I've sat down to write this many times and had to walk away.  There are so many memories and emotions, it's been overwhelming. Paul was a big (yes, pun intended) part of my medical school life, and beyond.  He introduced me to wine, to travel, widened my musical horizons, became a formidable study partner, and I can't even begin to name everything.  I can remember 'za at Full Moon, amazing sandwiches on the Avenue (he even tolerated my vegetarian ones), and studying in the library at Fordham since Einstein's closed for Shabbos.  I remember playing racquetball together, which was fully unfair since he's an entire foot taller than me.  I remember trips to California, meeting his friends and family, including the other West Coast giants.  I remember afternoons in the beer garden in Astoria.  I remember visiting Felice in Dr. Lazar's office to score tickets to the Mets games (and his fury when I became a Yankee fan after marrying a Bronx boy).  I remember our extended AMA trip to Hawaii, where we missed our cardiology unit (oops).  Trips into the city to hear music at Smalls.  I remember his Princess (yes, Christy) having the patience of a saint with his shenanigans.  I remember the wine club where Paul tried to bring us young-uns a bit of class.  Nicknames, oh they were plentiful.  My Christmas card this year was addressed to Priya Samanich (sorry real Priya, but he was rather obsessed with your name).  The West Coast crowd knew me best as "the Broad", or "B" for short, ".com" and my bowling shirt for his Bachelor party deemed me Maude (not that there were too many options there).  And not only the nicknames, but the accents.  You can take the boy out of Queens, but..... I remember the Godfather marathon I think was at Andy's (AKA Noel's) (though admittedly I think I couldn't make it all the way through).  Even when we didn't see each other or talk so often the past few years, all of a sudden an alert would appear on my phone with a random quote.  Oh, B, I will miss you!

My earliest sense of Paul formed in my first five years (Paul was about 10 yrs older) was of a guy of a higher and unusual intelligence and very adult sense of humor. After a social intermission of 35 years, I saw in him someone who could both meet the challenges of living a successful life in the modern world, and crack jokes about it along the way. Usually it’s one or the other. 

Being around a guy like that makes life more fun, and the hard moments a lot softer. Including this one, contemplating the sudden loss — we have a record of a family man, who understood he needed to take on a bigger role in his family to really be there for his nephews (who are just wonderful strapping men at the start of their prime), who succeeded in a highly challenging field, and who in my mind would appreciate it a bit more if you could find a way to crack just the -right- joke about it.

And if you didn’t nail it, I think he’d see the humor in that as well. I look forward to cracking a joke with you on the other side Paul.  A Lamed Vavnik, a righteous man

So many things about Paulie that made him special. My nickname morphed over the years, from Tusk to Tuskalusa. My husband’s went from JW, to Weff to Weffersonian. His nicknames were always…unique. I will continue to remember mine and smile. :