On the passing of a friend . . .
Paul W. Phillips, 80, was laid to rest at Carson Memorial Park in Oneida Monday morning.He touched the lives of many people, in many different ways.
Some remember him as the mail man, as he ran the Helenwood route for a number of years prior to his retirement. Others remember him as the handyman, as there was not a chore he wasn’t willing to do or help one of his friends or neighbors with. In recent years, Paul gained the respect and admiration of scores of individuals as he helped them find their roots through his exhaustive research into the archives of the Scott County Historical Society.
I remember him as a friend, one who would turn the coffee pot on upon your arrival and sit and talk — or just listen — for as long as you wanted to stay. He always seemed genuinely interested in you and what you had to say, whether it was life-shattering news or the latest rumor making the rounds.
But most of all, he was a very funny man, full of tall tales, homespun humor, a pocketful of pranks, and a witty way of getting his point across. In other words, he loved life, loved laughter, and loved being appreciated for just being himself.
Although he is survived by just one son, Marc, Paul W. Phillips leaves behind a huge “family” of friends and acquaintances who will miss him greatly.
He was one of those individuals who left his mark on nearly everyone with whom he came into contact, and you can’t talk about him to anyone who knew him without hearing a special story about what he once did or said.
On the mantle in his living room is a cute little plaque that says, to the effect, that the second greatest thrill in the world is flying, but adds: the first is landing!
I never saw him in the cockpit, but I do know that at one time he owned two airplanes, at least one of which he built himself from a kit, from complicated blueprints, in the second story of his home. It took years, but he had the patience to complete the task, then to take it apart and reassemble it in a hangar at the airport.
But that was just one of his many hobbies, or talents. Just a few years ago he started collecting as many photos of “Old Huntsville,” as he called it, as he could get his hands on, then began crafting and creating an N-scale reproduction of the county seat community he grew up in, one time-consuming and painstakingly accurate structure after another. He also recreated the landscape in around the tiny town, from the rocks in the creek bed to the trees and shrubbery.
Sadly, Paul never finished that project due to his failing health, but he expressed confidence that someday, someone else would pick up where he left off.
But that was one of only few projects Paul W. left unfinished at his death — unfinished business was not his trademark. He will be remembered by many people for many years to come — not so much for what he left behind — but for how he touched their lives.
