Eponymous; RIP Phil Mosley

My heart is heavy and sad tonight.

It has been 20+ years since a good friend of mine died so I am not accustomed to this type of shock and dismay.  Today, Portland lost Phil Mosley, the much loved and revered proprieter of Phil's Meat Market in NW Portland at Uptown Shopping Center.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, loved Phil.  Phil was the embodiment of what it means to be a small business owner in our little hamlet of Portland Oregon.  He was a true entrepreneur in the best sense of the word, and ran his business in a most informal and friendly way.  Forget your wallet?  No problem...Phil would put it on your "tab" and then try to convince you the debt was paid upon your next visit to the store.   My perception of Phil is that he always strived to be a kind and generous boss, in addition to being a truly great man.  He succeeded.  Phil was a young man when he died today, far too young to leave his wife, his son, and all his customers and friends who can't imagine Portland without him in it.

I met Phil many years ago when my father would bring me along with him for the sacred selection of meat for Sunday dinners.  Phil was always friendly, funny and warm.  He also had a masterful sense of how to pair wine with food (don't worry, I didn't figure that out until later in life), and I always relished joining my dad for those trips into his store.

Years later after I started a family of my own, I became one of Phil's most loyal customers; not only because he had the best selection of meat and seafood and wine in town, but because each trip into his store was a cheaper version of a visit to a therapist.  Phil always knew what to say, whether you were happy, stressed, down, whatever.  It was ineveitable that if you came into Phil's Meat Market, you left feeling better than you did when you walked in.  Can you say that about many other places?  Do you go to Zupan's and feel like you have interacted with family?  I mean "family" in a good way, of course...

Over the years, business after business disappeared from the shopping center.  First to go was the Uptown Broiler, then Baskin and Robbins, and the flower shop called Stems Uptown.  Still, Phil and his incredible wife and partner Becky Mosley hung in there, knowing that the association people had with the Meat Market in that particular location was a strong component of their success.  The film store, the real estate agency, the blues bar Dandelion Pub all faded away, but Phil's Uptown Meat Market stayed, and prospered.  Thank goodness, so did the liquor store.  I have often noted how convenient it is to be able to make one stop for vodka, Marlboros, and tenderloin.  If you have those three things, what else could you possibly need?  Besides a very good doctor, obviously.

I spent the day today feeling sorry for myself, having suffered some sort of bizarre back injury that kept me in bed and sleeping all day.  What a waste of 8 hours, because who among us knows when our time will be coming to a close?  When the call came from Becky Mosley today, I simply could not believe it.  "He's gone," she said, and all I could say was "no."

No.

Mark Knopfler wrote in a song once that death would be a sweet release.  Well, it isn't.  Perhaps it is for those who pass, but for those who remain in the wake, death is an enigma.  I miss Phil.  I grieve for his wife and his son and everyone else in this city who knew and loved him.  My visits to his market were at least 3-4 times a week, more when Tom and I handled a legal matter for him (we were paid in steak and wine, and as a result became very fat, but that's another blog).  Tonight my son and I stopped by his store to deliver lillies and a card and I simply broke down in tears.

How is there a Phil's without Phil?  For those of you who knew Phil and frequent his store, this question is likely on your mind.  However, I urge you to be a continued loyal patron to this family-owned Portland landmark.  Phil's will go on into the future, under the guidance of Becky and her family, who include not just those people related by blood, but the family that is the Phil's staff.  It is inevitable when people hear about a death, especially a sudden one, they ask, "what can I do to help?"  This is what you can do.

Recent musings of mine have focused on a disbelief in a higher power and an afterlife.  But if there is a heaven, please tell me Phil is playing a fabulous round of golf, cooking a Kobe rib eye, and enjoying a bottle of Owen Roe.  His health in recent years had limited his enjoyment of simple pleasures such as these, and I hope that in the hereafter, God always sets a full table, cooks the meat medium-rare, and decanters the Burgundy

We all love you Phil.  May you rest in peace, my friend.

My heart is heavy and sad tonight.