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"Homily - Philip Carter's Memorial
Service"
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Glen Ellyn,
IL
March 9, 2007
Deuteronomy 31:7-8
Romans 14: 7-9
Matthew 28: 16-20
Psalm 118: 19-24
When Mother Teresa passed from earth to the heavenly realm,
she was especially looking forward to the sights and tastes
of the heavenly banquet. For her first breakfast, she was somewhat
disappointed to receive only a cup of water and a rather dry
crust of bread but thought that starting simple was probably
a good idea. When lunch arrived, and again there was only a
cup of water and another hard piece of bread, she was somewhat
taken aback. Given to patience and not wanting to complain,
she decided to wait for dinner – when the abundance of
the heavenly banquet would be unveiled. With great expectation,
dinner arrived. There was… déjà vu of lunch
and breakfast – a cup of water and a piece of bread. At
that moment, she heard a great commotion from below. Peering
down through the clouds, she beheld a scene of feasting in the
underworld – a great crowd gathered around goblets of
wine, platters of fine meats, lavish desserts and so on. Confused
and astonished, she gathered her nerve to speak to God. “Excuse
me…she started to say.” “I know, I know”
answered God…”it’s the food, isn’t it…it’s
just that it’s so hard cooking for two.”
You can be sure that the food will be improving somewhat,
now that there will be three to cook for. And I imagine that
Phil will not be reluctant about speaking up about quantity
or quality.
We are gathered today to celebrate and remember the life of
Phil Carter. There is much to celebrate, and by our being here,
representing many relationships and perspectives on Phil, we
are literally “re-membering,” bringing together
the community of those whom his life touched. There are many
others who are not here – but we are joined with their
prayers and spirit of love. We are also here to show by our
presence a sign of support and love to Phil’s immediate
family, especially his beloved wife of 60 years, Dru.
I have had a chance to read and hear many reflections and
comments about Phil and what he meant to various people. One
particular comment stands out. It is the last sentence in a
note to Phil’s daughter, Claudia, from Dave Rowland at
Seyfarth Shaw, which sums it up: “Your father was a great
man.” Period.
Yes, Phil was a great man – possessing great vision,
great humor, great humility, great respect for others and great
faith. He was a gifted, shrewd and tough negotiator. He was
kind and generous with his time and money. He was part of what
has been called the “Greatest Generation” –
those men and women who were born between 1915 and 1925, the
original baby boomers following World War I, who grew up during
the Depression, fought in World War II, and went on to build
the most prosperous nation that the world has ever known. It
is a world that subsequent generations are finding harder to
manage, but we need look no further than to the Phil Carters
for guidance, example and inspiration.
Phil was born in Moline – one of the Quad cities perched
along the Mississippi River. His family moved to Berwyn –
a bustling suburb of Chicago. It was the roaring twenties. And
at the age of 5, Phil got his first job. With five brothers,
there was no shortage of excitement in the Carter household.
Undoubtedly, his sense of humor was forged during this time.
Work, school, family, and church were the mainstays of his childhood,
until he had enough money saved up to attend what was then,
Iowa State College, driving there in a Model A Ford. With the
World War II escalating, he wasn’t there for long, being
recruited into the U.S. Army. As part of the 20th Armored Division,
414th Armored Field Artillery Battalion, he was dispatched to
France where near LaHarve, his unit was stationed in a chateau.
They moved up to the Rhine during the Battle of the Bulge. Phil
reports that there were several close calls. While on perimeter
duty, he encountered a German soldier about 20 yards from him.
Each grabbed their weapons and attempted to fire. When both
weapons misfired, each turned and ran. Later, his battalion
entered Germany where just outside of Munich, a German officer
approached their vehicles carrying a white flag. Because Phil
spoke German, he talked with the officer who handed him his
Luger pistol and holster. His memoirs tell us that his troop
was one of the first into the Dachau concentration camp. He
notes that he and the other Americans were called “Liberators”
– quotation marks intentional to deflect such honor and
to give credit to an effort far greater than himself. The horror
of what he saw goes un-elaborated. He writes, “many of
them were sick and emaciated …All were garbed in prison
attire.” With the end of the war in Europe, Phil returned
to the U.S. to a camp in New Jersey to feast on steaks and ice
cream in preparation for deployment to begin training for the
invasion of Japan, which never happened. Returning home in 1946,
Phil got a job selling calculators. His sweetheart became his
bride that same year, and he enrolled in DePaul’s law
school. Graduating cum laude, he began his career at Seyfarth,
Shaw & Fairweather. Over the next decades, he would move
to Glen Ellyn, raise three children, and become a partner of
the firm. Each of these - town, family and firm would reflect
his many talents – intelligence, humor, mentoring and
vision. In his retirement memo to the partners, associates,
paralegals, secretaries and support staff at Seyfarth Shaw,
Phil writes in explaining his decision to retire, “gradually
I began to appreciate that, as the Bible says, there is a time
for everything -- including a time to quit.” That’s
not an exact quote from Ecclesiastes, but close enough. He goes
on to ask a question: “Where have all those years gone?”
Looking back over his now 84 years, this is not hard to answer.
They went into creating things that endure: friendships, family,
community and a legacy of caring. Look no further than Central
DuPage Hospital. Beginning with a vision, a desire to see a
hospital in the heart of DuPage County, Phil helped to open
a hospital in 1964 – with 113 beds and 60 physicians.
Now forty years later, it is a full- service medical center
with 360 beds and 800 physicians, which is rated among the top
10% of hospitals in the nation for critical care. Yes, Phil,
this is where your years have gone! Consider the Wyndemere Senior
Living Campus – another dream that became a reality just
14 years ago thanks in part to Phil’s leadership. And
to put his money where his mouth was, he and Dru themselves
became residents of Wyndemere, occupying a beautiful unit no
less than half a mile of carpeted hallways from the front entrance.
Each of you present can add many more examples to the lasting
contributions that have marked those years of Phil’s life
– whether here at St. Mark’s, Seyfarth Shaw, DePaul
University, Glen Oak Country Club, Goodwill Industries or Literacy
Volunteers of America.
Other than his wife, Dru, perhaps the two things that made
Phil who he was were his humor and his faith. Phil didn’t
share many of his jokes with me, being the good, innocent priest
that he thought I was. But I know there’s the one about
the Sheik, the Sham and the Shaw…and another that goes
something like, “Here’s to the little girl with
the red shoes…” See, I’m already turning red
myself. You’ll have to finish it later yourselves. I appreciate
the story told by Michael Rybicki of his first day at Seyfarth.
He writes, “When I started at Seyfarth, Phil did my initial
orientation. One of his first questions was whether I had military
obligations, which were common back then. I replied that I did,
at which point Phil informed me that I would need to use two
weeks of vacation to cover my summer camp. I replied that I
had absolutely no problem with that but mentioned that it was
illegal. He looked at me thoughtfully and said, “Damn
it, I think you’re right. I wonder why no one has ever
raised this before?” I ventured that probably no one else
had been stupid enough to raise this on their first day of employment,
which provoked lots of laughter from Phil.” Me too. I
hope that some of you will take the time to write down some
of Phil’s jokes and send them to me. I’d appreciate
that.
If Phil didn’t share his jokes with me, his faith he
did – a generous and authentic faith that came from his
heart, the kind of faith that Jesus taught us to seek. The Scripture
readings we have heard today were ones that had a special meaning
to Phil. He looked at them often and kept them on pieces of
paper in his Bible. They contain a common theme – the
work of the Lord. The Lord leads. The Lord creates. The Lord
claims us as his own. The Lord stands with us. Andy, Jenny and
Claudia tell me that they often heard Phil humming and singing
the opening hymn to this service - In the Garden. “And
He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am
his own.” He felt a closeness to God that literally shone
in his face and through in his eyes. This is the living God
of faith -a God that goes before you. A God that had made this
day. A God that is with you until the end of the age. When people
talk about a personal relationship with God, perhaps this is
what they want to describe. But for Phil, personal didn’t
mean private, closely held or selfish in any way. In fact, Phil’s
faith poured out into the lives of others – his family,
colleagues, friends, members of this parish, and to those who
are hungry, lonely and those who struggle and are left behind
in our society. After retiring, Phil volunteered with Meals
on Wheels and worked one on one teaching people how to read
and write.
Yes, Claudia, your father was a great man, and we will continue
to celebrate his life and reap the fruits of it. I know that
you will continue to share your memories and stories about Phil.
They are a joy and a comfort. And it is fitting to conclude
now with Phil’s own words – the last sentence of
his retirement memo at Seyfarth: “I will still have an
office and intend to come in whenever I may be needed or whenever
I feel like it even if not needed. I wish you all Godspeed.
Amen.
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