Phyllis G. Jones

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little lives are rounded with a sleep.
THE SUMMARY Phyllis G. Jones, nee Gibson, was born in Montreal. She passed away Sunday, December 14, at her home in Glencoe. Her beloved husband Curt was by her side.
THE EARLY YEARS Phyllis' mother, Francis, was from Dundee (Scotland, not the Glencoe one); her father, Robert, was from Ballynahinch (Ireland, not the Republic). Phyllis' parents met on the boat to Canada where Robert was pursuing his sister's philandering love interest (honestly, as Irish as it gets). Francis the tutor obviously disapproved of all of this but found Robert the Scottish engineer interesting.
Francis and Robert settled in Montreal and had two children: Phyllis and Donald. Both Robert and Donald died far too young (and far too dramatically. Details on request, in person with this author only).
Francis and Phyllis made their way. After graduating, Phyllis found both theatre and modelling (it should be noted, Phyllis was drop dead gorgeous. This author only wishes she had her mom's looks ). Amongst other acting things, Phyllis did a serial radio version of Anne of Green Gables, many many commercials - usually running in heels in old Montreal - and some sort of professional theatrical gig where she kissed William Shatner (there are rules against this now).
In the way of things in the 50's, Phyllis was briefly engaged to someone French, but the less we speak of this the better. It always had to be an American.
AMERICA It was on a modeling job. Upstate New York. Someone allowed the Canadian girls to attend a dance at the Plattsburg Air Force Base. The next day, the chaperone got a call from a lieutenant "J Curtis Jones". He asked to speak to the actress. "Which one?" He thought before he answered: "The blond".
They were married for 66 years.
WINNETKA Phyllis and Curt moved to Chicago (after a brief stint in the military) and settled near Curt's family on the north shore. Locations (in order):
Northbrook. White Fish Bay (much like the French fiancée, the less said the better). Northbrook again. Boal Parkway in Winnetka for a million years. Glencoe.
They had two children, Peter and Laura.
In Winnetka, Phyllis found her calling. She became the advocate, mentor, advisor, lawyer, champion. Peter had special needs and she took those needs as her crusade. She was on the ground for the drafting and writing of the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act). She protested in Springfield for wider doorways for wheelchairs. She became a lawyer. She was a pro bono advocate for all the families who needed – pro bono advocacy.
She was fierce.
She was also a master entertainer. Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Canadian Thanksgiving, Valentines Day, 4th of July, Flag Day, Arbor Day, Labor Day, Memorial Day, President's Day, National Cat Herder Day. A day didn't exist that Phyllis couldn't wrangle into an elegant gathering overflowing with warmth and friends and very often cheesy potatoes.
OTHER THINGS Phyllis was an active member of the Winnetka Women's Club, the Canadian Women's Club, The Winnetka Antiques Fair, The Botanic Garden and Lambs Farm.
Through Northwestern University she mentored and became a second mom to a group of international champions from (in no particular order) Brazil, Turkey, China, Taiwan, Netherlands, France, Belgium, Germany, New Zealand. Her family spanned the globe - and included all the dogs and cats she could find (several of whom were technically unknown to Curt). Fittingly, Phyllis' last week was full of visitors and wine and stories and laughter and food and 'Tit Chou the cat.
Phyllis is survived by her husband, Curt, her daughter, Laura and Laura's life partner, William Sidney.
In lieu of flowers, please eat more cheesy potatoes and Bouche de Noel. Have company over at the drop of a hat. Read mom's favorite poem (the Fiddler of Dooney). Out loud (see below). Consider a donation to Lambs Farm.
The Fiddler of Dooney When I play on my fiddle in Dooney, Folk dance like a wave of the sea; My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, My brother in Mocharabuiee. I passed my brother and cousin: They read in their books of prayer; I read in my book of songs I bought at the Sligo fair. When we come at the end of time To Peter sitting in state, He will smile on three old spirits, But call me first through the gate; For the good are always the merry, Save by an evil chance, And the merry love the fiddle, And the merry love to dance: And when the folk there spy me, They will all come up to me, With 'Here is the fiddler of Dooney!' And dance like a wave of the sea. -W.B. Yeats