Like all of you, I am deeply saddened by the death of my friend, Paula Hyman. I have known Paula and her immediate family since childhood. We lived in the same 3 decker house in Dorchester, we played together as kids, we often visited each otherÌ¢âÂã¢s homes, we took family trips together, her entire family attended my Bar Mitzvah, and our parents were life-long friends.
So before Paula becameÌ¢âÂÛ Dr. Hyman, Professor Hyman, author, social historian, women activist, et.al. -- she was, and still is, just Paula to us. She was, however, always brilliant. Even in elementary school all the kids in the neighborhood knew Paula was the smartest one in the class. And in spite of this, everyone liked her. There was no pretense or sense of superiority about her.
Paula was always a serious student, sometimes too serious. One time, at about age 7, we were on her front porch and she was reading to me. Then an apple fight broke out with some neighborhood kids, and we were in the middle of it. With Paula mostly out of the line of fire, she kept reading. Finally, in her stern teacher voice she said, Ì¢âÂÒSteven, be still. I am trying to read to you.Ì¢âÂå In my humble defense-- if I had remained still, I would have gotten hit.
In all of the eloquent tributes to Paula, one element is not complete-- the profound influence and contribution of her parents, Ida and Sid. In addition to Paula graduating Harvard and Hebrew College, her sister Toby also graduated from Harvard and Hebrew College (and then Harvard Law), and her youngest sister Merle graduated from Harvard and Hebrew College (and then law school). What a remarkable legacy for PaulaÌ¢âÂã¢s parents.
When reflecting upon the sad events of the past week, I am reminded of the Talmudic story of a man asking his friend how he could celebrate the birth of his child, knowing one day the child would die. He answered, Ì¢âÂÒWhen it is time to celebrate, I will celebrate. When it is time to mourn, I will mourn. Ì¢âÂÒ
In the midst of celebration of PaulaÌ¢âÂã¢s life, I miss my friend, and it hurts.
Remembering my Friend-- Paula Hyman
Like all of you, I am deeply saddened by the death of my friend, Paula Hyman. I have known Paula and her immediate family since childhood. We lived in the same 3 decker house in Dorchester, we played together as kids, we often visited each otherÌ¢âÂã¢s homes, we took family trips together, her entire family attended my Bar Mitzvah, and our parents were life-long friends.
So before Paula becameÌ¢âÂÛ Dr. Hyman, Professor Hyman, author, social historian, women activist, et.al. -- she was, and still is, just Paula to us. She was, however, always brilliant. Even in elementary school all the kids in the neighborhood knew Paula was the smartest one in the class. And in spite of this, everyone liked her. There was no pretense or sense of superiority about her.
Paula was always a serious student, sometimes too serious. One time, at about age 7, we were on her front porch and she was reading to me. Then an apple fight broke out with some neighborhood kids, and we were in the middle of it. With Paula mostly out of the line of fire, she kept reading. Finally, in her stern teacher voice she said, Ì¢âÂÒSteven, be still. I am trying to read to you.Ì¢âÂå In my humble defense-- if I had remained still, I would have gotten hit.
In all of the eloquent tributes to Paula, one element is not complete-- the profound influence and contribution of her parents, Ida and Sid. In addition to Paula graduating Harvard and Hebrew College, her sister Toby also graduated from Harvard and Hebrew College (and then Harvard Law), and her youngest sister Merle graduated from Harvard and Hebrew College (and then law school). What a remarkable legacy for PaulaÌ¢âÂã¢s parents.
When reflecting upon the sad events of the past week, I am reminded of the Talmudic story of a man asking his friend how he could celebrate the birth of his child, knowing one day the child would die. He answered, Ì¢âÂÒWhen it is time to celebrate, I will celebrate. When it is time to mourn, I will mourn. Ì¢âÂÒ
In the midst of celebration of PaulaÌ¢âÂã¢s life, I miss my friend, and it hurts.
Steve Prenovitz Atlanta, GA