In Memory of

“Perfect!”

Has anyone ever heard Tim use that word? (That’s what Tim would say about today.)  Tim loved perfection.  He loved the beauty of it all coming together exactly – precisely. That was ultimate joy for Tim. And today has been beautiful. Thank you.

Thank you to the Bishop Lineberry, Sister Williams, our organist, and soloists — all those who helped set up the church.  Thank you for those who have come tonight to honor Tim.  Thank you.

I’m Tim’s sister, Shari, I’m speaking in behalf of Mom (who flew from southern California), Dad (who was unable to travel to be here with us), and Michael, my brother, (who lives here in Va. Beach)

 

My Mom wrote:
“The best way I know to show you who Tim really was, is to share bits and pieces of a letter he wrote to me for my 70^th birthday:

“You taught us how to be polite.  I still like to open doors for ladies or give up my seat on an airplane shuttle.  It makes me feel better than it comforts them.”

“Life became real easy after realizing that life was just easier getting A’s and B’s and avoid feeling bad about myself.”

“You made sure we all learned how to type…sew on a button….learn to iron. Thank you Mom.”

“I remember you getting me a cowboy hat like Granddad’s.  I also am grateful I could be with you when you placed Grandma next to Granddad.  Oh, how I wish I could have known them better now.”

“Thank you for the millions of special moments.  One of my favorite moments with you was just sitting on the beach in California, just listening to the ocean roll in, and both of us just being completely ourselves.  Thank you for allowing each of us to figure out and be ourselves.”

 

My Dad wrote:

“Tim you have been a wonderful son. I am proud of the way you have lived your life. You were always fun to be around, happy-go-lucky, a big smile on your face, and a friend to all. 

 I am proud of all the friends you have made in the magic world.  As you may remember, I was very against you going into magic.  And yet, you’ve made a wonderful, rewarding life out of it.  For that I’m very grateful. 

 I am proud of your medals and trophies from the magic world, although I didn’t know anything about them until recently.

 How does a father say goodbye to a son.  I’m trying Tim.  It’s just hard.  I’ve learned so many lessons from you.”

 

Michael wrote:

“Tim, you were my guardian angle. You mean the world to me.  I grew up in the same room with you.  I love you with every fiber of my soul, and pray you will continue to be a major part of my life until I see you again.  You will never be forgotten. You’ll be loved forever by those who had the blessing of meeting you.  You have graced my life more than you’ll ever know.  God bless you, my brother.”

The sudden tragic death of son and brother has broken our hearts, and touched our souls.  We’re grateful that today we’ve come together to honor and celebrate this unique man.  Together we can share our pain and grief, and remember the man who inspired so many around the world with his infectious enthusiasm and joy of life.

When I got on the plane to come out to Virginia Beach– knowing that Tim didn’t know anyone in Virginia Beach – Mike and I thought it would just be the two of us, and possibly Mom and Jim (step-father), at the services.

Arriving in Detroit between flights, I called Mike to see how he was doing, in tears and in amazement he said: “Shari, you won’t believe it!  The whole magic world is mourning Tim!”  For the next several days, through Facebook and emails, we’ve come to better understand — you’ve lost one of the world’s greatest magicians and a wonderful friend, we’ve lost one of the world’s greatest sons and a fabulous brother.

 

To me he was Timmy. 

As a sister I had special privileges, I was allowed to call him Timmy.  Just a few weeks ago, in early January, he and I were working on my website. We’d Skype back and forth or get on the phone –for hours on end–everyday for a week.  Each time we’d initiate a new call, I’d sing out, “Hi, Timmy!”

However, not everyone was allowed to call him Timmy.  Eric Mead told me the story of the time he called him Timmy (and let me express great thanks to Eric, who couldn’t be here tonight, for putting together the slide/video show that will be played during refreshments).  Eric and Tim were working on the same event, and staying in the same room.  In walks Tim, Eric said, “Hey there, Timmy.” Tim turned and said, “Please don’t call me that.”  Eric said he thought that was strange since a number of older friends, Scotty York, Bill Wells, and others always called him Timmy and he never said a word.  Eric asked about it, Tim’s explanation: “I’ve known them for so long, I can’t correct them now.  But I hate it and I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”  (Eric said, OK then.)

The next day Eric and Tim arrive at the location to do their show. There are 100’s of unruly little children, with adults pretending not to notice. Tim immediately went outside, lit a cigarette and began to pace. Eric said that when he came out to talk with him, Tim was a nervous wreck.  “I’m doing mind reading,” Tim said, “they’ll hate me. They’re kids. My show’s not for little kids” (pacing).  Eric told Tim he’d open the show, he would tame the room, and he’d have them paying attention by the time Tim came on, “but let me ask, what about the introduction, what do you want me to say?” Eric said, “Tim smiled that big smile where his eyes would go squinty, giggled a little bit and said, ‘Just say ‘Heeeerre’s Timmee!’ They laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks (and by the way, the kids loved Timmy.)”

 

There are countless words to describe my brother Tim – in all his unique and wonderful characteristics.  I can’t begin to cover them all, but I’d like to share a few of the many really meaningful words that best describe Tim to me.

Tim was a giver.

My brother Tim, along with my older brother Michael, started very early on looking out for their little sister.  When I was a newborn baby happily cooing in my crib, Mom walked in to find Michael and Tim feeding me their chocolate candy bars, and chocolate smeared all over me. They just figured, “They liked it—maybe our new little sis would like it too.”

Throughout Tim’s entire life, he has continued to give, not just to me, not just to our family, but to so many he came in contact with.  I’m sure each of you has a story of Tim “giving” to you, or to someone you know.  Since Tim’s passing Michael and I have received hundreds of personal emails sharing stories of Tim, and the way he’s given in their lives:

Here’s one such story:

Mary Ann Richardson Stisher shares the story for her father: [I only referred to this at the Memorial since Paul Gertner had already mentioned it.] Tim’s heart was as amazing as the slight of hand and the mentalist act that he so passionately performed for my customers over 20 years. I loved him like a brother and I told him so, the same day that we talked about his illness and then prayed together in my room at the last meeting that he performed for my company in May 2010. I want to share a personal story about what Tim did for my 10 year old son, James, that best personifies his amazing heart. James was backed over by a car in a neighbor’s driveway in the fall of 2001 and sustained permanent brain damage. He almost died and my wife and I lived in the hospital with him for over a month. One day out of the blue I got a call from Tim saying how sorry he was about James and that he wanted to do something special for James when he was strong enough to sit up. A week or so later James was able to sit up for 30 minutes at a time and Tim flew in to give James his own personalized Magic Show. James could not talk at the time, but Tim poured his heart out to James with his slight of hand magic. All who knew Tim can just imagine the excitement and energy that was poured in to his show for James right there in his hospital room when he said the word “EXACTLY” as only Tim could say it. Due to James’s brain injury James had very little short time memory but while in the moment with Tim, James was mesmerized!! And then Tim did two things for James totally unexpected. Since he knew his memory was not good, he had me video him performing an ancient rope trick (I stood on a chair above Tim and James). He wanted James to have something special that he would remember long after his performance. It is truly hard to describe just how special that day was. Two weeks later, James got a personal note with an autographed copy of a book that Magician’s use to study magic. What a beautiful person he was with a heart full of magic of his own. My prayer for Tim is that God’s enduring mercy love and grace will open the Kingdom of heaven to him where he will live forever!” [end of story]

Tim’s greatest joy in life was making other people happy.  He loved to see people smile.  He loved to brighten someone’s day, which takes me to the next descriptive word:

 

Tim was a prankster.

Did you know that Tim was born on April Fool’s Day? With that birthday –just like his maternal grandmother—he was destined to be a prankster.  He loved to make people smile – or jump—as the case may be.

When we were little, Dad would drive a carload of kids to Rehoboth Beach for a day at the ocean and fun in the sun.  There, Tim found the perfect way to pull a prank on little sis.  As a swimmer, Tim could hold his breath a very long time.  He’d start far away, take in a deep breath, swim underwater to nip at my legs – then turn around and swim far away before coming up for air.  He knew I couldn’t even THINK it was him … — he’s way over there—it must have been a shark….

I remember many a big bowl turned over on the carpet, giving Mom the illusion that he had just dropped the bowlful of food upside down on the floor. The initial “jump” and “shock” from Mom was all the encouragement Tim needed to continue his mischief.

I see these antics as the early beginnings of his desires to be great at misdirection and deception.

 

Tim was a dreamer. 

As a child, Tim loved Peter Pan.  He wanted to fly just like Peter.  Tim used flying as his way to getting over/above/around /beyond and on the rainbow. “Birds fly over the rainbow, why, oh why, can’t I?”

As a little girl, I played with Barbies. I didn’t have any sisters, and I was the only girl my age in the neighborhood.  Tim and I were great buddies, and he was willing to play Barbies with me –ONLY if Ken could fly.  Playtime would go along pretty well, until Barbie and Ken were sitting at the dinner table –all of a sudden Ken would just rise out of his chair and start flying around the room.

“Timmy!  Stop it!”

“Nope.  I won’t play if I can’t fly.”

Flying was as real to Tim as every other bodily sense – he just hadn’t figured out how to get his body to do it yet—but he believed in it.

Tim, thanks for being the kind of brother who would play Barbies with his little sis.

 

Tim was happy – he always seemed to find reasons to laugh:

Years ago, when I lived with Tim in Manassas, VA, we went Christmas tree shopping. The first lot where we stopped, we liked what we saw, but when the salesman told us the price we obviously balked—it was really expensive. The salesman noticed our reaction and said in a snarky voice, “If you want some cheap tree, you can go down around the corner.”  Tim gave him that look of “Oh, there’s another place around the corner? Hey, thanks for the tip.” And off we went in search of our “cheap tree.”

After we found the perfect inexpensive tree for us, we drove back by the first place with our new inexpensive tree strapped to the roof of our car. Tim rolled down the window, gave a hearty “thumbs-up” sign, and hollered out to the salesman, “Hey, thanks again for the good tip!”  We laughed and laughed and laughed…

If you’ve ever heard Tim use “Hey, Good Tip!” that’s the story behind it.

 

Tim was focused.

One Christmas, When Michael and Tim were 17 and 15, Michael was given a harmonica set (which he’s still very good at to this day), and Tim was given a magic kit.  Tim was determined to learn every trick…. And more.  He poured over every detail, devoured every instruction, and studied every move.

I became his guinea pig.  Tim would wake me up in the middle of night to watch his tricks – from EVERY angle – let me repeat that– I mean “every” angle.  I’d watch the entire cups and balls routine, then move ¼-inch this way, watch it again – from start to finish – then move ¼-inch that way, and watch it again – from start to finish…. for hours.

He’d wake me up in the wee hours of the morning by throwing quarters at me, “Shari, watch this.”  It could be 3am and a school night…it didn’t matter to Tim… he was living, breathing, and “not sleeping” magic!

I take a little sisterly pride – knowing he and I shared that together. And because of my willingness, interest, and love for my brother, I helped him succeed in his dreams.  Anyone who has sat through one of those sessions: going over and over some move or method…. I apologize to you, because I set the standard.

 

Tim was a performer – well, most of you knew him as a performer…  let me tell you how it all started:

When Michael and Tim were quite young, they took tap-dance lessons together.  They trained hard for their recital.  Costumes were sewn, choreography learned.

The day came for the recital.  It was to be just the two of them – a brother duet.  The moment arrived for the two of them to step out on stage – but Tim wouldn’t budge from behind the curtain—he chickened out.  The music started and there were no brothers on stage. Michael finally ran out onto the enormous stage barely 3-feet past the side curtain – and performed the whole routine solo.

In high school, when Tim was a junior and I a sophomore, I was cast as Adelaid in Guys and Dolls; Tim was cast as a gambler of Sky Masterson.  During the Luck Be A Lady scene, Tim was to lean against the back wall and quietly perform his first onstage performance of the “Torn Newspaper” trick. The afternoon of opening night arrived… Tim walked into my bedroom, shaky and sweaty, and asked: “Aren’t you nervous?” I shook my head no. (I wasn’t.)

He survived the performance, but confided in me afterwards that he had horrible butterflies and said, “I thought I was going to throw up!”

Who would have known he would go on to be such a remarkable performer.

 

Tim was a protector:

Tim hated for me – or anyone — to be frightened or afraid.  One night I was home alone… (I was quite afraid to be home alone).  Tim was out on date.  He called to see how I was doing.   When he heard in my voice how frightened I was, he said, “We’ll be right there.”  Tim and his date arrived quickly and stayed the night with me – playing games, laughing, and hanging out with little sis.

Many nights I’d wake up from a scary dream, he’d come in, sit on my bed, and talk with me.  He hated for me to be scared or frightened.  He’d logically talk about all the different ways I was safe and nothing was going to happen to me.  But in the end, he’d always give me the same “last resort” suggestion:  “Shari, take a running jump, flap your arms, and fly  – Don’t forget…. You can always fly.”

Tim taught me how to drive in the snow. The first big snowfall after I got my driver’s license, Tim grabbed the keys and said “let’s go!”  It was nighttime and the snow was still falling. He drove me to the high school parking lot and told me to get behind the wheel. Tim explained that I needed to get the car going fairly fast, then slam on the brakes, putting the car in a spin. I wasn’t too sure about that idea…but Tim explained that an empty school parking lot was the best place to learn how to get control of a skidding car. As usual, he was right.

Thanks Tim, for watching out for me and teaching me so many of life’s important lessons.

 

Tim was caring:

When I was getting ready to start my freshman year of high school, I was really nervous about the new “big” school.  Tim sat me down knee to knee and drew a detailed map (and when I say detailed you know I mean “detailed”) of the high school.  On it, Tim pointed out the auditorium, my homeroom, the cafeteria (even the correct side to enter the food line), principal’s office, lockers, and the girls’ restrooms.  He told me about the different school groups (cliques) and which kids to hang out with, etc…  so when I walked in on Day One, and checked into my locker, I’d be comfortable and know where I was going.

When someone passes out of this life into the next, Andy (my husband) and I always affectionately remark that the deceased is now “checking into his locker.”

We imagine—ancestors and friends who have already passed on—show up to help the new arrival get settled.  Tim has now arrived to his new heavenly home, where someone has met him, and is giving him a tour and showing him around.

As I now realize that I’ve lost Tim here on earth, it makes me think, that when the day arrives that I will go to my heavenly home, it will be exactly the same as it was when I entered high school:  Tim will meet me, with detailed map in hand, check me into my locker, and give me a detailed tour around my new home.

 

Tim was humble. 

He hardly told us — his family — about his contribution in the magic world, we were just family to him.  We asked several times to come see some of his shows, and he’d always slough it off as not being important.  The first I knew my brother was on the cover of MUM magazine, his picture printed next to Dai Vernon’s and Channing Pollock’s in the Index (both names I heard Tim speak of with awe and respect as a boy), was just last week when I arrived in Virginia Beach to help my brother, Michael.

It’s not that Tim wasn’t proud of his accomplishments – it’s that his greatest accomplishment – his greatest desire — was to make people smile – and that we knew about.  Being on the cover of a magazine didn’t achieve that purpose—so he didn’t have a need to say anything to us.  But he would come home and tell us about the little old lady he gave his seat to on an airplane.

It’s not that we didn’t know he was a magician, or that we didn’t know he was highly revered and respected in the magic world, he just never boasted of his accomplishments or shared his magic contributions with us.  Many of you who knew Tim might say, “Tim was ethical to a fault,” but I stand here today and say, “Tim was humble to a fault.”   His humility kept us from knowing most of his magic accomplishments– I guess to us he just wanted to be a great brother and son, and in fact, he was.

 

Tim, thanks for always bringing the magic.

 

I’d like to share a poem:

“I’m standing upon the seashore
a ship at my side spreads his white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the ocean blue.

He’s an object of beauty and strength,
And I stand and watch him until, at length,
he stands like a speck of white cloud where the sea
and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Someone at my side says, “He’s gone.”
Gone! Gone where? Gone from my sight, that’s all,
He’s just as large in mast and hull and spar as he was when he left our side
and just as able to bear his load of living weight to the place of destination.

His diminished size is in me, not in him
And just at that moment when someone at my side says,
“There he’s gone,”
There are other eyes watching his arrival
and other voices to take the glad shout – ‘He’s coming!”

 

Tim, you will be missed more than words can express. I don’t want to say good-bye to you… but I know you have to go on and start your next adventure—an eternal adventure. Today we are gathered here together to celebrate your life, and today, we’re releasing you to go, to realize that your boyhood dream has finally come true: You can really fly!

Tim, I love you.  There are so many things you’ve done over your lifetime just for me. To all those who were close to your heart – Mom, Dad, Michael, me, neighbors, friends, acquaintances – you always gave.  And now it’s your turn to receive. You’ve now gone to your heavenly home, and you now see that you, too, have an Older Brother, even Jesus Christ, who gave his life for you – just for you.  You are now whole, and happy, and alive. Find peace in your next adventure, Tim. Share your talents with the angels. Spread your magic throughout the universe. God be with you till we meet again.

 

*****

Shari’s Memorial Talk followed by Justin Young singing his original song “Just For Me”
(available on iTunes)

Closing Remarks: Bishop Lineberry

Closing Hymn: God Be With You Till We Meet Again