My 7th Grade Science Project

I attended Eric Smith Junior High in Ramsey, NJ. I took a drafting class in the 7th grade; probably my precursor to my chosen field of engineering (like my dad). One day I came home from my class with an 11 x 17 sheet of heavy paper and an assignment to turn it into the tallest structure possible without using any glue or tape or adhesive. Most kids just cut the paper into a couple of big pieces and folded them and tried to stack and balance them to 34 inches. Those kids all had regular dads. I had Edwin Phillips, the genius.

My dad didn't even take 30 seconds to know that he could design a structure unlike that ever seen in any middle school in northern New Jersey. He was on it in no time. He took that paper and had me mark it and cut it into ¼" strips lengthwise, and then fold each strip in half lengthwise to make a slender paper angle, just like the shape of a steel beam. He then had me cut points into one end of each angle and put a small slice in the other end. Insert the pointed end of one angle into the slot on the end of the next angle and you've now got yourself a 34 inch angle beam. Can you picture it? We weaved them together into beams and columns, horizontally and vertically, starting with a wide footprint at the base and tapering to a point at the top. Think of a scale model of the Eiffel Tower; that's what we were making.

My mom and I carried the pieces to school in a cardboard box and when assembled, we had three 17" sections that stacked atop one another, each section narrower and gradually tapering into the one that sat upon it. We added a 17" antenna to the top and voila, we had a 68 inch tall structure! It was awesome, and I knew that my dad had created the tower that they would talk about at Eric Smith Junior High for years, perhaps even generations, to come.

I was never so proud in my life to be Edwin Phillips' son. I think the next day he designed a huge ship for fun...

Edwin's Legacy of Longevity

Edwin Phillips had a real sense of the word “longevity”. Not many people LIVE that word – especially today. I wanted to make note of a memory of a man who lived with purpose – and that purpose was in large part based on longevity.

When Dad was in the U. S. Naval Academy, there was one degree and one degree only – naval engineering. Degrees in philosophy, humanities, languages, or others were not available when Dad attended. EVERYONE took the SAME courses throughout their four years at the Academy. There was no ‘menu’ of choices. He graduated, and for the remainder of his years, my Dad was and remained a naval engineer. Statistics tell us that we will change careers at least five times during our lifetime. My Dad was a true example of longevity – he never changed careers. He was among the most renowned naval engineers throughout his career. While the tools of his profession evolved from slide rules to super computers, his career remained the same. Longevity in his chosen career.

My Dad married June and stayed married to June until the day he passed away. He loved her – adored her! - and that love never, ever faded. Longevity in his marriage.

He stayed in the same town and same house for over 30 years. He loved that house and that town and never wanted to leave. Junie continued to remodel and update and keep the house beautiful as new area codes, new highways, new shopping centers and large living communities replaced fields and pastures -- but Dad’s address never changed. Longevity in where he lived.

He converted to Catholicism when he met my mother. He remained a good, faithful Catholic servant who attended church, lived his faith and was prayerful as long as he was able. He remained a Catholic until the day he died. Longevity in his faith.

He took on projects such as model ship building (previous post), bonsai, fishing (he was always the last in the family to pull up his line), and completed puzzles – a cryptogram expert and solver of many crosswords - things that take patience and thinking…and more patience. Longevity in his hobbies.

Our current generation – including my own - has no clue what this word really demands. My Dad did. He knew all good things take time. This is but one part of his legacy. Longevity.

So You Think You're A Smarty Pants?

We're all generally proud of our parents, and we love to talk about their endearing qualities and the characteristics that set them apart and that we cherish so dearly. Some people will say "My dad was the smartest person that ever walked", but they seldom provide data to support this conclusion. Well, I have said it countless times, and I can produce data to back it up! I found my dad's resume while I was going through his things. Check it out. Reckon you could do half these things? I can't even pronounce a lot of them!

My Dad Loved His Dogs

My Dad loved dogs - as a kid, we went to the American Kennel Club shows just about every weekend. They were a blast. For my Mom and Dad, it meant showing two different breeds as their interests changed over the years. We began with Long Haired Dachshunds:and then (don't ask me how this transition occurred) moved on to Old English sheepdogs:My Mom was the handler - she took care of showing the dog most of the time and grooming. My Dad was a steward - he organized the comings and goings from his 'ring'. This meant making sure the judges showed up on time and, well, a myriad of jobs including calling clean-up crews when a dog pottied or personally filling in for an absent judge. My brother and I spent the day roaming around, watching some shows, begging Dad for snack and lunch money from his never ending pocket of change. Our dachshund finished as a champion and our Old English sheepdog basically retired without devouring another dog - a real success as this appeared to be her chosen vocation when in the show ring.

My Dad loved his dogs. You would often see him in his chair offering a scratch to Brandy, Paddington Bear, Katie, Allie and his favorite of all time, his beloved Tibetan Spaniel named Bear - "My Buddy Bear". Ironically, Bear was put to sleep three weeks after my Dad had to enter The Cottages of Clear Lake. I will always wonder if Bear missed his master to death.

My Dad taught me to respect animals and to be compassionate. He had a soft heart, and never was that more visible than when he was with his wife, his family, or his dogs. My Dad instilled a love of all God's creatures. He had a demeanor of kindness and respect and was a true gentle-man. I miss him. I bet my Dad and his Buddy Bear are back together somehow.

My Dad Sang Bass

Queen of Angels Church - Dickinson, Texas

About 28 years ago, my Mom went to a church that had the Latin Tridentine Mass. This form of Catholic worship existed for thousands of years until Vatican II and Pope Paul changed the Mass. That's history. What was new for me was hearing the hymns, the prayers, experiencing the reverence, inspiration and familiarity that existed when I was a child. I began to go to Queen of Angels and joined the choir as I had been in choirs as a kid, sang soprano, was in All State, honors chorale, etc. The church choir sang very complicated things - four and six part polyphonic masses, baroque and classical music, Gregorian chant, music written in the 16th century and beyond that was transcribed by monks and handed down for generations.
This is what Gregorian Chant looks like - very different from modern notation!

We needed a bass - I remembered my Dad sang Bass in the Naval Academy choir. I asked him to join - and he did. Eventually my Mom joined too - she sang alto. It was awesome and I will never forget those days, but this is about Dad.

My Dad had a great voice - and that's not just my opinion. I have evidence in tape recordings. I heard his beautiful voice throughout the 9 years I was in the choir as we practiced long hours and sang for every Sunday Mass, wedding, funeral and other celebrations. I was so proud of my Dad and loved to hear him sing. But it wasn't just his voice that was an asset.... When you put more than 10 people in a group you will have at least 9 opinions of how things should be run. The choir was no exception. We would discuss our particular opinions over coffee and donuts in the parish hall after church. When we asked Dad what he thought about such things, he always had the same reply: "I sing bass in the choir". That was it. Done. My dad knew who was really in charge in that church, and it wasn't my Dad.

When I was home for Easter, I heard the choir sing a familiar Mass that I could sing with my eyes closed. What was hard was that I continued to hear my Dad sing - even though he had passed away the night before. I heard his voice come in when the bass' took the lead. I cried, because I realized that for those 9 years I took hearing that voice for granted. Now, I miss it so much. I will always hear my Dad singing bass in that choir. And, I will always remember who is really in charge -- we are all just doing our own little parts. God is the one who is really in charge. My Dad knew that.

My Dad the Model Builder

One of my dad's hobbies was building wooden models of ships and cannons. He would spend hundreds of hours on the cannons and probably thousands of hours on the ships. He had tiny drills and hammers, two sets of carving chisels, tiny Dremel tools with sanders and buffers and routers, magnifying lights, tweezers, small pliers, clips and clamps, glue and varnish, and countless other tools. He bought me a model kit when I was a teenager; I remember that it was called the Katy. I sanded the hull for what seemed like a year, never having enough patience or focus to complete the model. Dad hung onto that kit long after I left home, and when I was in my 30s, he presented it to me, perfectly crafted and ready to sail.

Below is a selection of cannons that my mom keeps in her living room. My dad made a lot more than this; he gave a lot of them away. Note the expert knots, the cannon balls glued into perfect piles, the chains hanging just right, the excellent woodmanship. My, how he had patience and skill.

Check out the detail below on this ship's cannon. Each little brad was inserted into a tiny hand drilled hole to make it look like the decking of a ship. The little door was on tiny brass hinges and could be swung open. The cannon could swivel on the brass rail, ready for the skilled sailor to position it quickly and get the first mortal shot at his enemy. Each thread (rope) was laced carefully through the miniature pulleys and meticulously tied into the exact type of knot that would have been used in the application. He used dozens of different knots.

This is one of his largest ships, the Sea Witch. This ship has everything from tiny rowboats to coils of rope laid on the deck. The hull is actually copper plated with little copper plates about the size of a match head, evenly and individually laid below the entire water line. There must be thousands of them! There are tiny pulleys and shackles and no less than 500 knots; each one tied and laid just so; ready for the tiny people to sail away on it tomorrow. He must have threaded a football field length of rope on this model. You can see the tiny anchor on its tiny chains if you look closely. This model is about 3 feet long and 2 feet high. It is beautiful. He made at least two of these size models.

And a smaller sailing vessel, I believe that it is a Schooner?

And a rowing boat, complete with hand carved paddles.

While I was going through dad's things, I found a big yellow box in one of the cabinet's in his office. I opened it and there was a model kit, untouched! I brought it home. I'm going to build a model just like my dad used to do. This time, I think I can finish it.