We are so sorry to share the news of Phyllis Wright Thomas’s death (1930-2023). We wanted to share Seth’s beautiful remembrance, which can also be found in the Doug Wright Awards newsletter.
“Phyllis Wright Thomas was someone I admired. She made an immediate impression. I first met her many years ago, when Chris Oliveros, Brad Mackay, and I made the pilgrimage down to Tillsonburg, Ontario, to discuss the possibility of making a book about her late husband Doug. I didn’t know what to expect of her. I suppose I imagined some demure little old lady. Far from it.
Phyllis was a commanding presence. I do not mean that in any rude way. Often when people speak in terms of eulogy, phrases like that are code words meaning someone was difficult. Phyllis was not difficult. Quite the opposite. Approachable, kind, helpful, engaged. And she had gravity—forthright, direct, unsentimental, a doer. The kind of person who makes a decision and then gets down to the details and makes it happen. Perhaps that sounds too businesslike. I wouldn’t limit her in that manner. She had such a smiling quality about her too. Sweet. Funny. Over the many years I knew her she took Brad and me under her wing, a bit like a mother hen. And between the three of us we often joked about this, enjoying our roles as adopted sons.
When I look over this list of qualities I have assigned her, I see they match well with the cartoon qualities of the mother in Doug Wright’s Family. It was never any secret that the family in Doug’s cartoon was, of course, his own family. The only difference between the cartoon family and the real one was a third son. I’m sure Doug simply understood that two boys were more than enough characters for the strip. So, while Bill Wright was undoubtedly Nipper, Jim and Ken got to share being the little brother. And Phyllis, well, Phyllis was the mother. You can’t help but see it when you’ve known her. An active force in that cartoon household. Handling everything. But nurturing too. And yes, the occasional explosion. I never knew Phyllis to get angry in my presence, but it’s not like I couldn’t have imagined it. She struck me as someone to be reckoned with. All this leads to me say something very old fashioned: She was a lady. The kind of lady I associate with the old Canada of my childhood—gracious, straight-forward, no nonsense.
Some folks get old and their death is often stated as “not a surprise.” I suppose that should be the feeling I have about Phyllis’s passing, I mean, she was over ninety years old. And yet, I cannot dismiss her death so simply. She presented as decades younger. At her ninetieth birthday party, she was striding around and working that roomful of guests like a much younger woman. She was one of those folks who seem destined to live forever. So her passing hurts. I loved that lady. I will miss her.”
