Peter Phillips
THE following are excerpts of a tribute to the late Thelma Joyce Phillips by her son, Minister of Transport and Works Peter Phillips
MY MOTHER, known variously as T.J., Thelma, Mummy, Grandma, Aunt Thelma, and Mother Phillips to some, was among the most generous, compassionate and considerate person I have known. Modest to a fault, she was meticulous in her planning, self-effacing and possessed of the utmost humility.
I am already in breach of (the letter of) her instructions regarding this service by offering this tribute. She had managed to design the Order Service in detail and her instructions in bold hand-written capitals were clear - "No Eulogies please!" she wrote.
So we have called this a "tribute" and it must be brief lest she find someway to express her displeasure.
Such an instruction was indeed typical of her, for she was the epitome of humility, and self-denial; not for her the limelight, but rather quiet service, much of it unspoken and not recorded except between her (the giver) and the various receivers.
Born in Manchester some four-score and one year ago, the second of five children, she formed the early love of learning and service to be expected of a child of teachers. Subsequent journeys from Middlesex Elementary School where both parents taught, to St. Andrew High School and then on to the world of work in the civil service refined, but did not alter her basic commitments.
In summary, her entire life revolved around her Trinity of God, family and country. Her God and her Anglican Church were central to her life. My early memories of her as a member of the diocesan choir, and of the Mothers Union. She persisted with the choir until later years and even after she gave that up, she was regularly at Communion on every Sunday that she was at home.
Service
Her religion was not marked by formal observances however. She believed in service above self. It was service first of all to her family. Aubrey, her husband, was her world when he went off to study overseas, or to pioneer a new teachers' college at Moneague as its first principal, she never flinched or complained about travelling the journey with him.
She put herself to the task at hand eagerly and with industry.
Together with Aubrey, she did succeed in putting Moneague on track and developed a social "network" among the early students which remains to this day (and which I might add does not hesitate to offer me advice, support and censure up to this day).
In my own life, she was present at my every struggle. I can remember well my mother typing every single word of my Masters Thesis, editing it even when I had approved it, making certain that what I wrote was in fact English. She remembered the special needs of myself and each of her grandchildren. It was cookies for David, cake for Mikey, lunch for Tsahai; fudge for Ruth, and Tennis racquets and balls for Luke and Jacob whenever they visited. Indeed, to eat at her table in her heyday was a delightful culinary experience.
Careful, meticulous and conscientious; these were the hallmarks of her commitment to country. She ensured that travel arrangements were such that she and Aubrey would be present at the National Stadium on August 6, 1962, for Independence. I even remember her in those hopeful, expectant and idealistic times, venturing to a political public meeting or two.
She wasn't a political person, however, independence for her meant most of all, the opportunity to demonstrate a capacity for excellence in all things. The job must be done on time and it must be done well. Many a night she spent at home working on some urgent task, whether for the Ministry of Education or Agriculture, or latterly, the Department of Social and Preventive Medicine of the University of the West Indies.
My father's passing in 1984, severely tested her being. Her diary entry for that day tells it all "Aubrey died today", she wrote "My World has ended" Try as she might, she never succeeded fully in shrugging off her grief Mikael her grandson was really appointed by Divinity to be her saviour. He went to stay with grandma a few weeks after grandpa died to ease her transition. Those two-weeks became sixteen years. He never left her side.
If anything, in later years her gentleness and her generosity were accentuated if not her happiness. The piano, which she so loved to play was heard less her frugality was more pronounced her only extravagance was in her giving. She eschewed all silver and gold, and gifts of silk and linen remained unused.
She refused every entreaty to change her 25-year-old car. "I don't need anything more, it does what I want," she would say. Moreover, she pointed out, the police once stopped her for speeding and she pointed out the obvious impossibility of that, given the age of the car. She was not so sure they would have believed her if the car were newer.
Throughout this past week, I have received so many phone calls and letters from persons many of whom I cannot recall or do not know, outlining the true measure of my mother. The children assisted through school; friends comforted and helped through illness; and words of encouragement offered in times of trial.
Her house was always open. Her generosity knew no boundaries. She observed no distinctions of class or social status. Each human being was judged on the merits of his or her own behaviour.
I know all her generations, friends, acquaintances and I, shall miss her. She taught us the true meaning of love and gave us of herself and her substance. Pray God that we could be as honest, faithful and sincere as she was.
