So by the time i was vice-chair of TWUC Ted and I were good friends. He was amused when he found out I had written the libretto for a rock opera based on the Anglo-Saxon poem, Beowulf, from my own translation (music by Canadian composer Victor Davies., who called it “an epic musical”). Anyone who knew Ted at all well was aware of his passion for garage sales. He loved the bizarre and he bought prezzies for his friends, usually outrageous useless things that were always (almost always) funny. He bought me a Viking drinking horn. But later,when he learned that I had decorated my Muskoka home with ducks, he bought me a tiny, lovely cloisonné duck, among my most cherished possessions.
In my Other Life I had a very complete collection of sterling silver in my Birks pattern (Louis Quatorze). I even had oyster forks and a tomato server and a Stilton cheese scoop, all in my pattern, .and somehow—I don’t remember where I found it—I had a Pepsi Cola (so-named on the handle) bottle opener—in my pattern. I sold all my sterling silver flatware (Kate inherited my mother’s collection in a different pattern; no one else wanted it)). But I gave the Pepsi Cola bottle opener to Ted.
We made a point of having dinner together at the AGM banquet every year with his dear partner, Gordon Woodman. But the year Mavis Gallant was our Writers’ Trust speaker (accommodated by TWUC, paid by Writers’ Trust), and I was vice-chair, Ted joined me to eat with our guest. Penny Dickens, our then Executive Director, made up the guest list and knew that Ted was Old Montreal as was Mavis Gallant and that they would have a lot in common to talk about. Besides, he was always a delightful dinner guest, another one of his many social skills.
He wrote witty letters to people he didn’t see often, out of the country, usually. However, he kept in touch with his regulars by sending them a collection of (photo-copied) cartoons. I used mine judiciously to pass on to friends with a similar (but not identical) sense of humour. No one was like Ted, as I truly discovered when I was invited to spend a weekend with him and Gordon.
I had an overnight reading and speaking gig at a residential school in the Eastern Townships so I was close by. I arrived in Montreal (Westmount, of course) in time for Friday night dinner, and was almost immediately presented with a list of possible garage sale sites that Ted had looked over. He had asked me previously if I was interested. I had said yes.
“Are you sure?” he asked as he presented me with a possible list. I was sure and was happily confirmed in my assent. It was FUN.
Our early garage sale excursion was followed by a gorgeous Ploughshare Brunch with all those lovely nitrates: salami, country sausage, deli cold cuts (you know what I’m talking about) accompanied by lots of red wine, followed by a delicious nap in a guest room with the most comfortable mattress. Such a good memory!
Ted kept on being generous.When our dear friend and guide, Penny Dickens, died we had a potluck memorial party for her at the home of one of our past presidents in Toronto. I just took champagne. Ted Phillips,the only out-of-town person, sent money to the host to buy a Ploughman’s Platter—all the cheeses and deli meats and good bread that we had enjoyed with him.
So this is his memorial: a toast to the most generous, witty, kind and talented friend we ever had.