Lifetime Achievement Award Greater Gardner Chamber of Commerce Introduction by President Daniel M. Asquino, MWCC I am honored to have been asked by the Murphy family to say a few words about Jim Murphy and provide my thoughts as to why he is an appropriate candidate to receive the Chambers’ Lifetime Achievement Award. I am also a bit intimidated humbled and overwhelmed by this huge responsibility. How can words alone due justice to the life of James David Murphy. This award is being bestowed posthumously on Jim who passed away on October 31, 2009 at the age of 79. His contributions to humankind and community were many indeed as witnessed by one of the longest, if not the longest, obituary I have seen posted in the Gardner News. Jim Murphy was a lifetime resident of Gardner. During his life he was perhaps a member, leader and contributor to just about every organization in Gardner. The awards and recognitions that he received are numerous indeed. Citizen of the year, Man of the Year, Trustee Emeritus. Jim was multi-talented – he was an artist, a musician and a writer. He was often called upon to be Master of Ceremony for numerous organizational events and activities due to his quick wit and humor. Jim Murphy was a lot of things that were good. This community is a better place because of his presence and contributions. Jim was the consummate human being – friendly, compassionate, helpful, fun and competent. Most of all he was a wonderful husband to Louise of 53 years and a good father to Sheila, Sherrill and Donna. Acceptance Speech Who was Jim Murphy? Husband, father, musician, artist, story teller, humorist, volunteer, friend, a gentleman and a gentle man. He was a gifted man who was always generous with those gifts. As a husband he was a true romantic. He sent my mother an orchid corsage every week for the first year of their marriage. He never forgot an anniversary or a birthday and was always in search of the perfect gift. Mom isn’t easy to buy for. She always says she has everything and she doesn’t need anything else. Years ago when dad asked her for her Christmas wish list, she said that all she wanted was a white Christmas. So dad thought about it and thought about it and was convinced that there was a way to defy the meteorologist’s forecast for a Christmas that was 50 and sunny. Being a creative thinker, he brought us to the Ice Rink where he had seen a pile of Zamboni scrapings that looked like mounds of snow. He put barrels and shovels in his trunk and we filled the barrels with the ice scrapings, and we made many trips from the rink to the house until he had filled our front lawn with “snow”. And so, that year, mom did have her white Christmas, but more importantly had his love. As a father he would often use storytelling and his artistic abilities to teach us. After the supper dishes were cleared, dad would tell stories about Gardner history and our ancestors who came to Gardner in the 1850’s to found Kelly Brothers Furniture Factory. He took us on both literal and vicarious journeys through his storytelling and his artwork. Sometimes, we would sit at the table for hours and laugh until our sides ached. As he talked Gardner, he would sketch funny cartoons of the people that he talked about. Wherever we looked in our mind’s eye, we’d see historic Gardner figures. We saw Dr. Jewett in his jodhpurs and hat on horseback on the corner of Peabody and Favor Street. We saw Cider Harding in leather apron, with ice tongs and dozens of children hanging off the back of his truck begging for a piece of ice. We saw a pilot carrying out a WWII romance by buzzing his girlfriend’s house as closely as he could get to the roof line without crashing. We learned about VJ Day by hearing of our grandfather donning a Santa’s beard from Goodnow’s Department Store to direct traffic in the square. Dad would have been with him, but he and his friend Richard Lapierre had the grand scheme of setting off fireworks from the roof of the Gardner News Building (much to his dismay, there was so much activity in the square, no one noticed). How ironic that later in his career, he rose to the top of The Gardner News, but through entirely different circumstances. We learned about the 1938 hurricane through dad’s adventures at the Hayes household where the primary concern besides the windows and doors blowing in was to keep the elderly Mrs. Hayes comfortable. This was achieved by sitting her in a wheel barrel, propped on pillows, with a bottle of holy water in one hand and a scotch and water in the other. He was never able to determine which helped the most. We learned about Pearl Harbor by hearing how our grandfather called up the staircase to dad and his friend that he had heard on the radio that Pearl Harbor had been attacked. His friend dropped the toys that he had been playing with and ran home because his brother was stationed there. And so we received mini history lessons disguised as stories Dad realized that an education didn’t just come from a book or inside a classroom. When he was attending the School of the Worcester Art Museum, he left his classroom, knowing innately, that it was much more important to seek out and find the visiting Eleanor Roosevelt to talk with rather than finishing a painting or hearing a lecture on Cezanne. He was a gentleman and a gentle man. He invariably opened doors for people, both literally and figuratively. He always stood up with an extended hand when someone entered the room he was in. He never wanted his criticism to be hurtful. So, he delivered that criticism in a gentle way. When my sisters and I would hand him a shoddy project, that we knew was not up to standard (I was known for coloring outside the lines), his only comment, delivered with a smile, was “that’s coming along nicely.” He made it a point to thank people for what he deemed “thankless tasks” for everyday jobs that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. He couldn’t bear to tell stories where anyone was hurt or suffered. He was a fairy tale revisionist long before it became popular. In his version, Henny Penny survived the sky falling down around her with nary a ruffled feather. The Three Little Pigs helped each other and each house stood against the mighty power of the Wolf’s breath. When he told us about Little Red Riding Hood, not only did the grandmother survive, but the Wolf was rehabilitated and eventually was taught to help around the house with chores. Dad was a consummate musician who played drums, trombone, piano, flute and bass. Our house was always filled with music. Dad and Mom fell in love over music and never stopped singing together. It was said that Dad could harmonize with a sneeze. His band, the Overtones, was dubbed the Shangri-La Trio by his fans because of their love of that song. Dad loved harmony in his music, his life and in his community. So, how fitting that they were called this as Shangri-La is a mystical, harmonious, earthly paradise. The leader of the Shangri-La trio was a hand holder from way back. He held Mom’s hand for their entire wedding reception. She finally had to ask for her hand back so she could use the bathroom. The last year of his life, we noticed that he opened his hand out to hold her hand constantly. And that was truly the hallmark of his life. An open hand to his family, his friends, and his community. Whether that hand held a pen, a brush, a drumstick, the slide of the trombone, or your hand, he always made you feel better. He always made you feel that anything was possible. He always made you feel that life was Shangri-La.