On my father’s recent birthday, a series of events contributed to me feeling close to him, Some background: Paul Magill, z”l, was born on November 14, 1918 in Guelph, Ontario. When he moved to Philadelphia to marry my mother Gertrude, a”h, he lived in the City of Brotherly Love for exactly 50 years to the day. When he passed away in July of 1991, I wrote an article based on his own memoirs and sent it to a newspaper in the small town of Aylmer, Ontario, where he spent a number of his formative years, and they published it. I had the article, which included a large, beautiful picture of him, put on a plaque and every year on his birthday (and on Father’s Day) I take the plaque out and display it prominently.
On this most recent birthday, as I looked at the plaque, it brought back many fond memories of his many kindnesses and the intelligent way he helped me and so many others, including his immediate family, extended family, neighbors and friends and perfect strangers.
It seemed that would be the moments I would have, relating to the man who my father was.
But there would be more.
It happened later in the morning at the Senior Home I work at.
It is important to know, that in addition to my father’s full-time job he fixed televisions on the side to earn extra money. Not like today’s flat-screen TVs, but televisions with picture tubes and other varying shaped tubes.
Once, when I was around 10, I saw my father go down to the basement in our Philadelphia home to his work space to fix a television he had taken home to work on. I went down a few steps and watched with great interest his incredible concentration as he worked with wires and tubes to try to get it to function again.
I was in awe of his dedication.
After 20 minutes of work, he happened to look up and saw me on the steps. “Why are you watching me?” he asked.
I happily answered, “Because when I grow up, I want to be just like you.” He answered these words many decades ago but I never forgot them. He said, “You should grow up to be just like you,” or words to that affect. Even at the young age, I realized the import of what he said. That I am in this world to make my own choices, but fully aware that I will be shaped by all of the good character traits he modeled for me.
And I did grow up to be my own person. Writing plays. Writing newspaper article. Performing comedy. Working with the senior and other populations to bring them happy experiences. But in almost every compliment I have ever received for the work that I do I could see a vestige of his positive character traits that I was blessed to receive from my father.
And now to what brought all of these memories back to me in the late morning of his birthday at the senior home I work at. I was going around to the resident’s rooms erev Shabbos, wishing them a good Shabbos. One woman, who I’ll call Sara, usually greeted me with a big smile. But today she looked forlorn. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. She said, “My television isn’t working.”
One thing I didn’t inherit from my father is a Mr. Fix It mentality.
But I told her I would take a look at it. I fidgeted with the remote control and ten minutes later, much to my surprise and much to this woman’s delight, I had the television working again. She thanked me profusely. And as I walked out of her room, I felt such a warm connection to my father. My daddy. Who had given me the freedom to find my own way in life. And I did. But for a few moments I had connected to what he was so proficient in, On his birthday. It was like he was there with me. It was wonderful.