Commentary: To Phil

Driver Tom nodded to his left, “I sure miss Phil’s flower garden.”

“Yeah, I do, too.” I said.

Phil.

Twice a day, to and from work, I get a reminder of Phil when I drive by what used to be Phil’s flower garden. Now the spot is occupied by a new house ready for somebody’s move. Nice house, but not as nice as Phil’s weedless garden full of all kinds of flowers.

I met Phil ten years ago. For ninety minutes, I sat around an interview table with Neil, Ed, Sharon, Cal, Louise . . . and Phil . . . at the corner of the table to my right.

I don’t remember if Phil asked me any questions. I think he mostly just sat there . . . and smiled. It seemed as if he was fulfilling some sort of grand mission, not to ask any brilliant questions, but just to listen intently . . . and smile.

Phil was a rather important guy. He’d been a chief meteorologist for a chunk of the middle of Pennsylvania, was a lay leader of his church conference. Phil and I had some great conversations in the years that followed. ‘Not sure I ever caught him without that . . . smile.

Phil got busy caring for his wife of many years. We didn’t talk very often.

A few years ticked by.

Three o’clock in the afternoon, on a Wednesday, my desk phone rang. “Hi, I’m Jim, Phil’s pastor. Phil’s in the hospital. He asked to see you.”

I dropped everything.

“Phil,” I whispered to the man sleeping upright. His eyes opened . . . the smile . . . and then, “Jurry!” (That’s “Jerry” in a Pennsylvania Dutch accent.) We talked . . .. . . and talked.

I prayed for Phil . . . waved goodbye.

Phil waved . . . and smiled.

Friday I walked into Phil’s room. There was no response . . . and no smile. Phil took it along with him the next morning.

The church was packed. There were tears, but there were more laughs. We listened to mischievous farm-boy stories. A very tall police chief told a story of faking an arrest of Phil in Kentucky.

Beside the Lutheran Church in Tusseyville there is a little cemetery with the name Phillip Neff carved in a stone. I stopped there one day . . . thanked God . . . thanked Phil . . . and smiled.

I’ve learned a lot from the people I’ve known. So, Phil, I think I’d like to talk a little less in the future; maybe smile more.

Glad we could get together.