Dennis James (Murph) Murphy
Husband, father, brother, friend. Born on Sept. 17, 1942, in Kingston, Ont.; died on July 12, 2014, in Port Dover, Ont., of a heart attack, aged 71.
There was only one Murph and he was a force to be reckoned with. He was a man you don't meet every day. He'd fill up your glass, and whatever it cost he would pay. A man of tremendous generosity, he cultivated the deepest of friendships, although he made a few foes. A fortress on the outside, he was a vulnerable and deeply affectionate man in his soul.
He was raised in Kingston,Ont., the third of four children born to Rita O'Hara, a teacher, and Bernard Murphy, a deputy chief of police. Perhaps not surprisingly, Murph knew and understood the value of discipline.
This took him to senior levels of General Motors Canada as director of marketing, Canada, a role that gave him the opportunity to travel the country with his life-long friend and first wife, Elaine "Luce" Murphy. For many years they made their home in Whitby, Ont., where they raised their children Dennis Jr. and Cathy. After 30 years of marriage, Murph and Elaine parted as friends.
The same discipline that fuelled him at GM stirred his ambition to become an independent dealer at the age of 44. Although Hogan Chev Olds in Scarborough gave him his start, Dennis Murphy Pontiac Buick in Cambridge, Ont., was his greatest love. Cambridge embraced him, offering new business associates and strong friendships to be cherished.
It was at this point that Judy Makovitch came into his life, a true gift. She offered a strong supportive partnership and when they married in 2004 his family grew with her children, Shannon, Kristen and Trevor.
Murph was a trickster from an early age. He and a fellow altar boy once took advantage of the darkness of the Easter vigil to navigate the altar on their knees, moving around in the darkness. Then the lights suddenly came on, catching them mid-crawl, centre altar, gowns hiked up. He never lost his rebellious streak. As coach of a girls' Little League team in Whitby, he was thrown out of a game for taking on the umpire, but led that team from last place to silver-medal winners, and gave the girls a valuable sense of self. If he told you, as you stepped up to the plate, "Hit a triple," you did.
He lived by the edict that anything worth doing was worth overdoing. He was merciless on the racquetball court, fell out of trees he ought never to have been pruning, and flattened his fingers with hammers that then went flying across the yard. But he sure knew how to make a garden grow, gut a fish, swing a golf club, toss a horseshoe and refurbish antique furniture to perfection.
Murph could pick himself up from almost anything, but the blow of losing his dealership in 2009 as part of GM's restructuring was a fatal one. His eyes faded to a paler blue the day he got that call. Retirement followed.
He spent his final day at his cottage in Port Dover, Ont., the place where he found his greatest comfort, gardening and watching the boats sail up the channel. Murph left us in a way only he could: a little too briskly, without ceremony, and with the strength to go by himself. He was magnificent, and is sadly missed.
Ann Ball and Betty McKeown are Dennis's sisters; Cathy Murphy is his daughter.