Paul and I became neighborhood friends in sixth grade while attending Jamestown. His father was a Foreign Service Diplomat and had just been reassigned from Bonn, Germany to the State Department. Over time, we would spend weekend nights together and while my Mother was no slouch in the kitchen, his parents were a team of gourmet chefs. We also were invited to join in each other’s summer family vacations. How good was our friendship? We even shared an Evening Star paper route for about 15 months (4 pm Mon-Fri and 5 AM on Sun. Ugh!).  Talk about male bonding!    Our family friendships continued and in April of 1963, much to my dismay, his father was reassigned to Vienna, Austria. Much to my delight, they invited me to go with them.  We would spend the 8thgrade together as “brothers by different mothers” and we all had great times together. Paul and I attended the American International School, learned to ski, to speak German, studied classical music, travelled whenever we could and generally learned to appreciate different cultures of the world. And, just like at YHS, Paul was the suave, debonair one who also enjoyed cigarettes and beer. I was the straight one who was content with cutting up with him while he enjoyed them.    What a unique experience it was to be “COMING OF AGE” in a foreign land. Speaking of which, we were in the school movie theatre watching “Spartacus” that fateful Friday night of November 22. It was 10:30 when the projector suddenly shut down. We were told to: 1. go directly home (most all of us transited by way of the streetcars) 2. do not speak to anyone we did not know and 3. do not to leave our homes … because our President had been murdered. There was plenty of fear in the air for these two newly minted teenagers. Tabloid papers were already selling on the street. Rumors were rampant: the Russians were behind it, world war was imminent and Washington D.C. was a top bombing target. Paul assured me that his family would take care of me if anything happened to my family. Surely, anyone reading this had similar fears and a similar serious dose of growth hormone.   Our friendship continued when Paul returned for the 10thgrade at Yorktown. We did travel in different social circles but we did see each other frequently. And, we enjoyed the benefit of Frau Holl’s German classes and we were in the German Honor Society. What scholars!    The visits changed with graduation. He and his parents moved to Connecticut where Paul went to UConn. We managed to stay in touch and he was one of the groomsmen in my 1974 wedding (still the debonair one – he wore a top hat with his tuxedo!).   Then, for the most part we would have only the occasional catch-up phone call (usually of the well-lubed, 1-3AM Fri or Sat night variety). Or, we would see each other if he stopped by on his way to or from Florida on his winter sojourn. Sometimes, we would stop in to visit on our way to or from a trip up north. We would pull into the nursery and always had a nice visit.   In the summer of 2009 we were making plans to visit him on the way home. Not having heard from him in some time, I thought I would look him up online to see if the nursery was still in business. The first search item listed was Paul’s obituary. I was devastated. I then started to track down his mother who readily agreed on a visit. Paul’s sister Cindy (YHS, 1962) just happened to be in town which made our visit even better. We remembered old times, shared lots of hugs and, as it happens, we all went on with the rest of our lives.   Paul was a good friend, loved a good time and enjoyed life. I still miss him and still thank him for my life-changing experience, great memories and the good times that we had.