The conversation was about pizza. It was a couple weeks ago that I was talking with my Grandpa Marty on the phone, and asking him if the pizza my parents brought to him at the hospital had pepperoni on it. After a long pause it was apparent to me that one of the most intelligent people I’ve known did not understand the word “pepperoni”. It was sobering. And it was at that point I knew this would likely be my last conversation with him. The lymphoma that he had miraculously beaten into remission so many times before had finally—— I told him how much I loved him… and said goodbye. It is a very strange and unique set of feelings when you say goodbye to someone, knowing the likelihood that it will be the last time—— he turned ninety-two on April 18th, the day before I turned thirty. I should only be so fortunate as to live to see myself in the mirror at ninety-two, and live a life as full and wonderful and upstanding and altruistic as his. He was a role model through and though. I’ll never forget how at age eighty-six he wanted to learn how to use a computer, so he purchased an old PC and taught himself how to use it from the ground up, starting with the MS-DOS command prompt. I’ve never known a person at that age to be so mentally sharp, and curious, as to pick up something so complex and difficult and foreign with such a determination and a want to understand it. That was just the man he was: curious, intelligent, loving, honest, kind, altruistic, peaceful, and humble. Grandpa Marty passed away yesterday morning, May 5th, 2007. God rest his soul. I love you, Grandpa.

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