Paul Angelini

Paul’s Story

This is a time of unbelievable sorrow and loss.  Hopefully, the gift of
sharing and remembering, will eventually lead to healing.

I hope what I say will be a celebration of Paul’s life on Earth.

From the first time I met Baby Paul, it was apparent that this boy could
break anything.  Luckily for us, his Dad, Fred, could fix anything.

This was no ordinary little boy.  He had the mind of a scientist.  Possibly
being the most inquisitive child in the universe, Paul had to know what
made something tick.

Be it fire, water, or electric currents, Paul was in the mix.

Small town Randolph had their own street gang on Alpine Drive.

Big sister Carolyn and friends Audrey and Sage who were capable of causing
their own chaos, often had baby Paul and Brooke trailing behind.

Easily influenced by the suggestions of the older girls, they could wreak
havoc in the neighborhood.

Baby Paul and Brooke removed the entire neighborhood mail from the
mailboxes and put them in the sewer at the urging of the older girls.

With the threat of Federal charges, Fred and Len spent the day fishing out
the mail with crab nets.  Paul looked on in horror.  We had our own Dennis
the Menace - but to know him was to just love him.

He tried to hang out with the older girls, but was not always welcome.  At
one birthday party, when the celebrant did not want Baby Paul ruining
anything, he was told to sit and enjoy the magic show.

He tried for the first few minutes but it was only a matter of time when
Paul explained to the entire audience how each trick was done and to the
hysterics of the birthday girl watching her party go down in smoke.

As Paul got older, he developed his own friends.  He was the most popular
kid around - he was a leader and the others followed.

When the girls started coming around - his sister Carolyn said it best “So
Paul, who is the flavor of the week?”

Paul’s friends all adored him and felt at home in the Angelini’s house.  It
was a safe place for fun and mischief.  Needless to say, my friend Diane,
turned grey at an early age.

In High School, Paul was admitted into the Randolph Police Department
Explorer Program which was a major honor.  After graduation, Paul was
accepted at NJIT and his parents beamed with pride.  And again, Paul was
Mr. Popular with all the frat brothers.

If someone had nowhere to go for a holiday, Paul would include them at his
home.  We shared many holidays with the entire Angelini Family.
Thanksgiving was at our home.  My husband made about 20 different dishes
each year.

One year we decided to cut the menu a bit, figuring nobody would notice.
At the end of the meal, most people were grateful that they had elastic
waist bands, Paul got a very disturbed look on his face and demanded to
know why didn’t have our traditional Manachevitz Wine Jell-O Mold.  You
could not put one over on that guy and we never left it out again.

The Angelini’s home was Christmas heaven.  For many years Fred would make
an amazing dinner and we would stuff our faces.  The house was filled again
with friends of Paul who might not have had another place to celebrate.

When our beloved Freddy passed, to our amazement, Paul emerged as the Chef
du Jour and his cooking abilities astonished us.

He loved to play Santa on that night and just picturing him with that silly
hat on is enough to make me smile.

Paul and his sister Carolyn worked the Christmas dinner like true
professionals.  When I would leave the house Christmas Eve, I would always
think how Freddy must be looking down with pride knowing that his tradition
was being carried out with such love.

Paul knew that family and friends where the most important thing in life.
Several months ago, I was taking care of Ace the cat when the Angelini crew
left for Savannah and Florida.  Paul flew in from Germany with Kathrin and
the girls.  In Savannah they rented vans and a house and eventually the all
went to Florida to go to Disneyworld.

Diane, Carolyn, Josh, Jaxon, Carter, Manny and Megan and
Kevin and Robbie joined them as well.

It was one of the hottest weeks in recent history.  I thought to myself why
would anyone schlep like this in such heat with children, dogs, relatives
and friends to Savannah and Florida.  I knew I certainly would not want to
be there - except when I started to get the photos of the trip.  Their
faces were smiles and joy.  They truly had an amazing family vacation in
Disneyworld.  Did this family know something that I didn’t know?  Did they
know as they say in Latin “Carpa Diem” - Seize the day!

In this unthinkable tragedy of loosing Paul. was there a lesson to be
learned?  I know I did - family and friends are the most important thing.
Paul has graced us in life more than he will ever know.  He took the time
to do what was important.  He really knew how to love and how to live.

After Paul lost his dear Aunt Susan, I know he felt a great void as we all
did.  He held her in his heart when she left us.

He so loved his cousins Justin and Megan.  They were more like brother and
sister to him.  He was a very kind and special friend to so many people.

He brought joy and laughter wherever he went.  As a partner to Kathrin and
her two daughters Elena and Anika he was a strong provider of love and
security.

He and his brother-in-law Josh, were more like brothers and had a very deep
bond.  Manny has lost more than a nephew.  They shared so many of life’s
challenges and good times.  I hope that Jaxon and Carter will always
remember their uncle who made sure to send them toys from Germany with love
abound.

My dear sweet, sweet Carolyn - may you hold the memory of a brother that
did not have a mean bone in his body and loved you with all of his heart.

My friend Diane - your little boy turned out to be a wonderful man of
decent thought and character.

When I started my story of Paul I said he could just about break anything
and when I look at everyone today that he has touched, I know he finally
did it - his leaving us all so soon has broken all of our hearts.

Hi,

I’m Carolyn Angelini, Paul’s only sister. If you knew me closely you would know that I try to focus on the good things in life. That to remind me of how great full I am, I concentrate on positive elements and not dwell on negative ones. That I know all to well that our time with loved ones here on earth can be short and that it’s a shame to waste life hanging our heads in sorrow at the loss of a loved one. That our time here is a gift that we should experience to the fullest. That I cherish the basic pleasures of having family and friends around and that each night I thank God to simply have been here on earth and to have enjoyed all of the experiences and people in my life that day.  I felt it necessary to express my gratitude to the lord for the wonderful gift he gave me of my brother so I decided to write a thank you note which I will share with you today.

Thank you lord for the gift you gave my heart.

For a brother I was always proud of. One I could count on no matter what. Who shared in my childhood memories of family dinners together, of gathering out with the neighborhood kids in the street to play, of investigative explorations in the woods behind our home, of the simple things my family would enjoy. For a brother who shared with me the joyful arrival of every new family pet and the sorrowful good bye to every pet we put to rest. Who agreed with me that Mom was quirky at times and that Dad kept a tight rein on his son, whom he wanted to grow up to be an honorable man.

Thank you lord for a friend that was always there for me.  Who was only a phone call away even though he was 1/2 way across the world. Who I could turn to for advise on what the best digital camera on the market was and who I could depend on to keep me up to date on the latest news in the world.

Thank you lord for such a wonderful son for my parents. In him I saw the strong zest for life and a general curiosity of how everything works that my mother has. And the gentle kind heartedness of my father along with his ability to fix just about anything. Lord, now who will I ask mechanical questions about my car to?

Thank you lord for a son that treasured family traditions. That felt it was just as important as I did that we keep up the laborious Christmas Eve Dinner traditions that my father had cherished. That insisted we prepare all of the same family recipes and who like me, felt there was never too much food on the table.

Thank you lord for such a majestic uncle you gifted my two sons. Through him they felt the love my father would have shined on them if he was still here with us on earth. I am so great full each of my boys were able to know him. I pray that Jaxon will be able to hold onto his memories of my brother so that years from now we can reminisce about Paul together and that my son can share these wonderful memories with me.

Thank you lord for giving me this kind hearted person in my life. For someone who had a love for all of Gods creatures here on earth. Who loved animals and always reached out to pet a dog walking down the street or to pick up and snuggle the neighbors

cat in his arms. For someone that children were magnetically drawn to. Who was just excited as they were to open a new toy and play with it for the first time. Who shared with them a zest for life with the same youthful sparkle in his eye that faded in many of us long ago.

Thank you lord for the big bear hugs my brother would give me. Wrapped in his arms I felt so secure, as if he had super powers to protect me from harm. These hugs were like a bit of heavens love here on earth.

Thank you lord for granting me the pleasure of someone who just simply wanted to share life’s good times with anyone who was around him. He enjoyed bringing friends and family together for conversation and a great meal. Everyone was a friend to Paul, whether you were a stranger he just struck up a conversation with on the street or he had known you for years.

Lord I am thankful for these gifts you gave me with Paul. I will not question why you have taken Paul so early and I will cherish the days I had with Paul and not weep over the days we would have had if he was here on earth longer. I pray that everyone else in his life will find solace in similar thoughts. 

Friday September 1^st was the last conversation I had with Paul. We spoke about what each of us was doing over the weekend. I told him I missed him greatly and wished we could be together for Labor Day weekend. That I was sick of all of the simple hot dog and hamburger BBQs we had been having all summer and that it would have been great if Paul and I could have cooked up a great meal and shucked a bushel of clams.  The conversation was cut short when I heard a child at the door speaking to Paul in German with an anxiousness to his young voice. “Gotta go” Paul said to me. And tramnslated in English what the child had said, “Big cat attacking the little cat next door”. Those were the last words my brother spoke to me and I find them poignant. That’s simply just who Paul was. Someone this young child could turn to save the day.

Thank you for honoring Paul with your presence here today. I hope each of you holds a piece of Paul in your hearts and remembers my brother with fondness. Let’s consider this a celebration of Paul’s life and walk away holding a bit of the sparkle in our eyes that my brother had. 

Hi, for those of you I haven’t met before I am Paul’s sister Carolyn Angelini. For those of you who heard me speak yesterday and are thinking to yourselves “Why is she getting up again”? It’s because my brother deserves it. And if each of you were a friend of Paul’s, then you’re a friend of mine now and you deserve to be touched by some of the wonderful things I have to say about my brother.

This past Monday we held a memorial service for my Paul is Stuttgart Germany. It was very special for Mom, Kathrin and I to see such a great turn out and to hear everyone say such special things about my brother.  A co-worker of Paul’s said one of the eulogies in which he stated that the normal statement that people often say at the time of a death of “That’s Life” wasn’t accurate in the passing of Paul. That instead “Paul was Life”. That he experienced it to the fullest. That he was always on the go and making things happen. A Major that sat right beside Paul at work said Paul used to yell over to him “Your slowing me down Aderman, you’re slowing me down”. How true these words are of Paul. He was always concocting some type of plan, that to the frustration of his loved ones, sometimes seemed to change by the minute. Places he wanted to visit, new restaurants he wanted to try, and recipes he wanted to cook. There were times Mom and I needed a play by play to keep track of his changing plans. I used to tell her, “I’m not counting on it until I see him walk thru the door”. 

Paul was always on the move, making it happen. Paul’s girlfriend Kathrin recently relayed a conversation they had had about the possibility of planning a last minute weekend trip away. “It’s not that easy to just drop everything and just go Paul”, she said. That the girls would be starting school soon and they had a ton of things to take care of.  Paul’s response to her was “Put them in the freezer”. Not too much slowed Paul down. He was always on the move, making it happen. Packing in as much pleasure as he could in the day.

So many memories of Paul are in our thoughts right now. Many of them, like Paul are quite entertaining.

I pulled together a few stories about Paul that my family treasures as the highlights which I will share with you.

Let’s start off with the PyroTechnics….

Paul loved fireworks as a child. I’m talking about the ones my parents would by him on trips to Pennsylvania and illegally sneak into New Jersey. The rule was always that my Mom and Dad had to be around when he wanted to set them off. Well one day Paul decides to be a show off and snuck out a few to bring to a friends house. The boyish excitement over the fireworks was short loved since the real excitement came when the cops showed up and brought Paul and his buddy down to the big house to shake them up a bit.

To Close for Comfort

Paul had a fascination with making fires. When he was young he was playing with matches and a magnafine glass on the side of our home.  Things must have really gone his way at first as the first flames emerged but I can’t even imagine the look on his face as a few of the bushes started to go up in flames. Luckily our neighbor Bob Brembs ran over and put the fire out. It was a good thing too since the trees were only a few feet away from the house. Nice going Paul!

Dinner Entertainment

Speaking of a fondness for flames, one night as we were finishing a nice meal with company Paul decides he is going to follow desert with some Pirotechnic Entertainment in the dining room. “You don’t even need to leave the table” he says to everyone and runs out to his room to gather up a few supplies. He comes back, turns off the lights and proceeds to take out a vial of Iron Filings, which he pored into his hand and then carefully sprinkled over the candlesticks set out on the table. There were some popping noises and we all did see some very pretty sparkles but boy did the show end early when everyone had to step away from the table as Moms polyester tablecloth went up in flames.

Don’t Tell Mom and Dad

One Christmas as we were decorating the house, Paul decides that he will be in charge of wrapping the tree in the front of the yard with a set of lights. We used to use a strand of lights that had been my grandparents with the very large egg shaped bulbs.  He proceeds to march out into the snow with no coat or shoes on. A few minutes goes by and I notice that the lights in the front of the house had gone out so I assumed he had blown a fuse or something. I opened the front door to see Paul standing there looking a little pale and spacey. “What happened” I asked. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad” he said, “but I’ve just been electrocuted”.

Paul was always up for trying something new and when he was young he could easily be persuaded to do so. Mom’s friend Aboya was babysitting Paul and I one winter afternoon when he was about 7 and I was eleven. She had two kids that were around my age. Back then in the 80’s people used to let their children run free without supervision and that afternoon the four of us set out on a wonderful snow filled adventure in the woods. We trekked down to the river that was near by and concocted a great plan to float down stream on one of the large pieces of ice that lined the edge of the river.

Since Paul was the smallest and most naïve, so naturally he would serve as our test pilot. We proceeded to all give him a big push and launch the ice burg into the rushing river. Things looked very promising for a few minutes as we ran along the edge of the rivers edge following the ice burg. But as you can imagine it wasn’t long before Paul began to sink as the ice burg split apart. Luckily we were able to grab a large tree limb near by and hold it out for him to grab onto. I will never forget the look on my Moms friends face when we returned home and rang the doorbell. Paul was covered in little ice chips from head to toe.

One day when Paul was a toddler he decided to sneak down to the garage and mimic something he had recently seen our Father doing. Siphoning gasoline out of the lawn mower. My father wasn’t far behind and caught him with a huge mouthful of gas. Off to the hospital it was for a visit to the emergency room. “Who are the parents of this kid” the doctors were asking. Can you imagine what the staff must have thought as they looked down at this child who was covered from head to toe with his usual cuts and bruises and had been admitted for drinking gasoline.

Though I could take up the whole afternoon telling funny stories of my brother I will leave you with my all time favorite. This is one that was relayed often in our home and I took every opportunity I could to embarrass my brother by telling it.

We refer to it as “You cook’n Ham Mom”

Picture Paul about 7 years old. He was a little portly at the time and had a fondness for pork products. It was Christmas time and my parents always set up their childhood sets of Lionel trains under the tree. This particular morning Paul was laying on his stomach with his shirt off and tinkering with the trains. Mom was in the kitchen when Paul yelled out to her “You cook’n Ham Mom?” “No Paul” she said. Paul resumed his work on the trains and about 15 minutes later called out to her again “You cook’n Ham Mom” “No Paul she said  “We just finished breakfast and I haven’t even thought about what we will have for lunch yet”. Paul just couldn’t believe that the scent he was experiencing wasn’t some large piece of pork cooking in the kitchen so he got up to investigate. It was then that we all realized that what Paul had been smelling was the scent of his own flesh being singed. He had been laying over the train tracks and there were imprints of the tracks slightly burnt into his skin.

I want to thank everyone for being a friend to Paul. Though the person sitting next to you may have been a stranger to you before this morning, we all have something in common. Paul touched all of our hearts.

One of Paul’s favorite things in life was to gather with good friends and family and enjoy a nice meal together. Please join us for lunch at the Branches restaurant in honor of Paul. We can enjoy each other’s company during this difficult time and reminisce about the good times we had with Paul.

My Technicolor Paul

All of the vivid, warm, wonderful memories of my childhood are wrapped up in Paul. What other five year old knows the word “shrapnel”? (When he was five, the Angelinis had some sort of clothing line outside in the backyard, which I do not think was ever used for clothing. I am unsure about what it was out there for, but Paul used it to launch his homemade explosives. I remember after one such “demonstration”, he turned to me and said: Want to see where pieces of shrapnel are buried in my skin?

He always caught us off guard, always in the middle of some action in mid-occurrence, half the time creating the action, too in love with the possibilities of life. He loved things vibrantly and intensely, was full of a wonder which never left him, even when he grew out of being a child. He gave the strongest bear hugs in the world and you felt completely wrapped up in his warmth when he placed his two arms around you. He gave amazing back massages with the same strong hands Mr. A had, and when he held onto you, you were fully inside his embrace the way he was fully inside of life. Paul did nothing small because he knew life was not small.

Paul was so funny. I remember being asked to leave so many times as a child at the Angelinis dinner table by Mr. A because Paul would look over at me and make trouble, just because he knew it would make another laugh uncontrollably. I came back again and again for more dinners; for more laughter. Paul understood the power of humor from a very young age. Besides Carolyn, no one else has ever made me laugh so hard, so often. And what a beautiful, wonderful thing it is to laugh! And to be able to make others full of joy and laughter! How rare and special. I could probably spend hours (Carolyn could tell you!) delving out so many funny memories where Paul brought light and joy and humor into my life on a daily basis. Even though I was older, and Carolyn was my best friend, I hung around Paul as a child so much because his curiosity and humor made my life more energized, more vibrating and more alive. And on an even simpler, but equally as important level, it just felt good. It always felt good to be around Paul.  

I think Paul truly did celebrate life in every way possible. His curiosity took him to new places mentally and physically, and his charm and humor made him popular with all types of people, from military types to artsy girl types to people to whom English was not their first language – everyone felt embraced by his warmth and humor and kind nature.

I will forever be grateful for all the moments of joy he gave to me. For all the laughs that spilled forth, for all the love and huge hugs and for his equally huge smile which filled up any space he was in. I can truly say that my childhood would not have the happy memories it does if it weren’t for Paul and his curious antics while he was searching always for ways to figure out life and how it works. There were many times in my childhood, more often than not, where I felt very different and alone in regards to my peers, an outsider, perhaps even a reject. But when I came over and Paul was around, I felt light and free, caught up in his Technicolor world and journeys, where I never knew what might happen next, and so I always stuck around (sometimes for days on end –without even a change of clothing, even though I lived just up the block, literally footsteps away) to become part of his spontaneous world. The truth is: I didn’t want to leave those moments where Paul made things happen, whether it was deconstructing a record player or calculator, making something explode (where else would I get to see THAT?), or just doing something that I could never have fathomed occurring just a moment before he made it unfold before us. His curiosity and spontaneity, by proxy, made ME curious and spontaneous. And in that way, I, too, had an unending interest in life.

What a beautiful, special, precious life. I feel so blessed to have been a planet orbiting his brightest sun. What warm rays of light he filled us with, making us feel whole in his presence.

I love and miss him. I will take from him the lesson of celebrating all that is life, every moment, every ounce; remaining forever curious through all the days.

Sage Meridyth Jacobs – September 12, 2007

Although this is an extremely sad occasion I feel privileged and honored to be here to pay my respects to Paul. Paul was more than a friend to me. He was like a brother and although he was not my blood, he became my blood. He and his family welcomed me into their home and made me feel loved and accepted. And became the family I gained.

When I first moved to New Jersey seven years ago I was not the same person I am today. I was overweight and felt very awkward in my own skin. None of that mattered to Paul. He was a special, caring person that saw beyond my physical appearance and taught me to enjoy life and accept myself for who I am.

As all of you know Paul was bigger than life, he was a force of nature. Like his Uncle Manny would say, “Some people come into your life and make no impact, but Paul was like a ripple in a lake. His influence and kindness touched everyone.”

Every happy memory I have during the last seven years somehow involves Paul. At work he was a professional in every way and although he was aggressive he was never rude or unkind. And after work is when the real Paul shined. He was always fun to be around. He had an unbridled thirst to enjoy each moment. He inhaled life with every breath.

Paul loved the ladies, he was the biggest flirt I knew. However, once Kathrin came into his life I saw the new Paul. He loved Kathrin and her children and wanted nothing more than to spend time with them. Paul had a zest for life.

He found pleasure in everything. Like music - he loved all types from hip-hop to rock and from alternative to techno. He loved gadgets too. He was always tinkering with something. No matter what he was always trying to improve things? Make them faster, make them louder, make them better. That was Paul’s gift. He always looked on the positive side of life and always wanted to make it better.

He loved his friends, he loved life and he loved his family more than anything. He would do anything for them. Like with food. Paul loved food. He loved all types both to eat and to cook. I think his favorite thing though was to see people enjoy his food, especially his family and friends.

On Christmas Eve Paul and his sister Carolyn would start cooking at ten am and cook through the night to prepare a fantastic feast. We would start eating at noon and wouldn’t stop until midnight. Carolyn was so dedicated to her “cooking” with Paul that she even cooked on her wedding night. She and Josh got married on Christmas Eve and before, during and after the ceremony, Carolyn and Paul were cooking.

I am so grateful to Paul and to his family for all the happy memories they have given me and for letting me share the holidays with them. His mom, Diane, his Aunt Sue, his Uncle Manny, his sister Carolyn, his brother-in-law, Josh,  his nephews, and all of Paul’s cousins gave to me a gift I’ll never forget.

Although words cannot describe how I feel about Paul or the great person he is, a quote of Abraham Lincoln’s embodies many of my sentiment.

It’s not the years in one’s life but the life in one’s years. If we base our definition of Paul’s life on those wise words, Paul would outlive us all.

Hi, I’m Josh, Paul’s brother in law. When you enter into a marriage, you inherit all the qualities of your spouse’s family. One of the great benefits of marrying Carolyn was to be introduced to Paul. I have known Paul almost as long as I have known Carolyn and I consider him to be the brother I never had.

Paul and I have very different personalities. When we first met we were from two different worlds and as we grew to know each other our worlds became closer. Paul brought to the table everything that I could not. He was the spontaneous one. Paul made every family outing an epic adventure.

On one such occasion the family decided to go along with the Toribios to New Orleans to visit Coyle relatives. In an ugly white van that looked like it should be used to transport prisoners Fred trekked us around town with our long lost Coyle brethren.

After a day of sight seeing under the hot, southern sun, Paul, Justin and I decided to take advantage of the city’s nightlife. Needless to say we all enjoyed our time at the local strip club. As the night began to draw to a close I decided to turn in. Entering the hotel room I open the door to Carolyn saying, “Where’s Paul?” In a slurred voice I responded, “I don’t know, I left him at the titty bar.” “Go back and get him” she shouted. “He’s a big boy” I responded and passed out. At about 5am I was shaken by Carolyn yelling in my ear that Paul had not yet returned and that Freddie would be up soon. “Where was he the last time you saw him”, she asked? “At the Money machine with a stripper I responded”. “Get up” she said. So out the door I stumbled and back down the New Orleans alleys to find the MIA Paul. As I enter the mostly now empty bar, whom do I see at a corner table…a young Paul with three strippers on his lap and the biggest shit eating grin ever. There was Paul enjoying every moment of life. Together, not rushing to get back to the hotel, Paul and I saunter through the streets talking, laughing and joking. Entering the hotel room to a few choice words from Carolyn: we go to bed, sleep like babies and get up the next morning to begin a new family adventure.

This is how I know Paul. Through his laughter and the smile that was always on his face.

Paul and I have been known to have a turbulent relationship in the kitchen. Every family event that involves food, which means all of the Angelini family events, usually consists of Paul, Carolyn, Diane and I shuffling and yelling at one another in Diane’s kitchen. Paul and Carolyn were always the ringleaders of a kitchen crew consisting of myself and Diane who were both always half crocked on wine halfway through the cooking process.

“Wait Josh…don’t do that yet!”  “You don’t know what you’re talking about you can use the shrimp shells to make a broth for the risotto.” These are the sounds that shot forth from the kitchen to the regular crew of family and friends in the next room. After the cooking was done and the six courses, Christmas Dinner was served over an 8 hour period, phrases from stuffed, exhausted guests would emanate. “This Christmas dinner was the best ever. There was wayyyyy  to much food. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Paul, Carolyn and I would smile at each other and think, “It’s never too much food.” And as the guests filed out the door to go home and Diane was passed out on the couch with a glass of desert wine, Paul, Carolyn and I would find ourselves sitting around the kitchen table eating again and talking. Not about anything special. “The calamari was good this year.” “We still don’t have the marinated mushrooms quite rite.” “What do you want to make next year?” This was always one of my favorite times during the Christmas Holidays. It was like the three of us at the kitchen table were in a fishbowl looking out at the rest of the world.

Paul and Carolyn were the two people that I had planned on growing old with. There was no hurry when the three of us were together at the table. Paul was the gentle uncle to my sons. My boys would always hug Paul even while they went through those teenage years where they wouldn’t dream of hugging me. Carolyn was my loving wife and I was just happy to be there. Now that Paul has left us there is a space at the table we sit at in the late hours of Christmas Eve. Now in the future as we sit at the table in the late hours of Christmas Eve there is a void in the family that will never be filled.

I honestly had a tough time putting into just a few words how I feel about Paul, our friendship, and how much he’ll be missed.  I just didn’t know where to begin.  So I started to think about how he would want to be celebrated.  The first thing that came to mind was to go to Big Ed’s BBQ for some ribs or Manhattan Steak House for a porterhouse, and have a few drinks and laughs with friends.

From the countless dinners we had together because we were both craving steak, all the trips to NYC with the crew from Fort Monmouth, to the numerous times he tried to teach me how to drive a stick shift on the old Colt…we seemed to always be laughing.  That was the thing about Paul, no matter what was going on, he never seemed to let anything get him down.  99% of the time he had a big smirk on his face…and anyone that knows him can remember that mischievous laugh of his before he was about to do something sneaky.  He lived every day for what it was worth, and didn’t look back.  I admire him for that, and always will.

He was a brilliant engineer, a patient teacher, a witty comedian, an amazing chef, but most importantly he was a great friend to so many of us.  Paul was always willing to be there for me when I needed someone.

And I know that held true for so many other people, as well.  I had the chance to read some of the online messages posted from his fraternity brothers, and the common theme throughout all of them seemed to be that Paul was a great friend.  He would always help get his friends out of trouble….even though he may have been the reason they got into trouble in the first place.

Paul was an all around great guy, who will definitely be remembered for his character, love of life, friends and family…I know I’ll miss him.

Knowing that I’m not good w/ words, I’d like to share with you a poem written by Maya Angelou.  I felt it appropriate for times like this….

When Great Trees Fall

When great trees fall,
Rocks on distant hills shudder,
Lions hunker down in tall grasses,
And even elephants lumber after safety.

When great trees fall in forests,
Small things recoil into silence,
Their senses eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
The air around us becomes
Light, rare, sterile.
We breathe briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
See with a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
Examines,
Gnaws on kind words unsaid,
Promised walks never taken.
Great souls die and
Our reality, bound to
Them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
Dependent upon their nurture,
Now shrinks, wizened.
Our minds, formed
And informed by their radiance,
Fall away.
We are not so much maddened
As reduced to the unutterable ignorance
Of dark, cold caves.

And when great souls die,
After a period peace blooms,
Slowly and always irregularly.
Spaces fill with a kind of
Soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
To be the same, whisper to us,
They existed.  They existed.
We can be. Be and be
Better.  For they existed.

I’d like to think that we can be better… for Paul existed.

How Paul Would Have Liked To Be Remembered.

I came to NJIT in the fall of 1994 and brothers from Alpha Sigma Phi had tried to get me to join since they met me but it took Paul to convince me to pledge in the spring semester of 1996.  I put Paul on the very top of my list for big brothers and I was excited when he was named my big brother even though I am older by a few months. It was the first week of pledging when I got my first impression of how serious Paul was about the fraternity.  For some reason I didn’t do my house duty, because I didn’t know that I had to do it, and Paul blackballed me for it.  When it was time to be serious, it was time to be serious, but any other time was time to have fun, relax, and to blow things up.  Over the next 4 years of my college life I lived with him in the second front room when we moved into the new house on M.L.K. Blvd.  I got to know him pretty well and he was my best friend all through college.  We were in the same major and we were in most of the same classes until we graduated together in January 2000.  This essay, as with Paul’s life, has its serious moments and its funny stories so I am going to share some of the great times that I remember about him in no particular time line order.

Paul was one of the first Alpha Sigs to work at public safety.  He was just a desk attendant, but because of the way Paul was he got the officers to go out on Friday nights to go to a local pub to blow off steam.  I think he truly enjoyed hanging out with the guys but it also gave him some “immunity” from his antics at the house late at night.  Paul always had his Minions, as he called them, and after initiation Paul bought some extra dry ice and collected empty plastic soda bottles to make Dry Ice Bombs.  For anyone who doesn’t know, you put dry ice in the bottle, pour some water in, put the cap on and quickly get rid of it because it is going to explode.  Paul was always looking for the bigger and better so he got a Pepsi Big Gulp with the wide mouth cap and put an excessive amount of dry ice in the bottle.  He filled it with water and threw it in the closet under the front stoop.  When that thing blew it was the so loud that it vibrated the house a little.  It sounded just like a gun shot and it was basically outside under the stoop.  Not two minutes later we got a knock on the door… it was NJIT public safety officer Ed Lincoln who was stationed just outside of St. Michaels Hospital.  Nicknamed “Sweats While He’s thinkin Ed Lincoln”, he is probably about 400 pounds and always rode around campus in the little Cushman and until this point I had never seen him get out of it.  Paul greeted him at the door and Ed said, “Are you boys shooting off weapons in here?” Paul assured him that we hadn’t done anything illegal but Ed didn’t really believe him because of Paul’s patented crooked grin.  So Ed looked around the room and saw blown up bottles everywhere but there was no other evidence, because Paul blew it all up.  Ed was too lazy to look through the rest of the house so we got away with it.

One night Paul and I were looking through the house and there was really nothing to eat, so he suggested that we go to the smelly deli and each get a package of bacon and eat that.  I guess at the time I thought it was a good idea, so that’s what we each had for dinner, a pound of bacon and a coke.  I think this started him on the Atkins Diet.

He was always up for Fight Club, not the movie but when we would shout FIGHT CLUB!, two brothers would fight until one gave up.

I don’t know if you remember some of his girlfriends but two of the weird ones stick out in my mind.  The first one was from Kean College and I don’t remember her first name but she was nicknamed “Tennis Ball” because of her pale skin and extremely short, very blonde hair.  Then there was this other girl who he met through one of his friends at a Lacrosse game.  She was very Italian and her name was Antonia, and she was a senior at Jefferson High School.  Paul seemed to get along with her pretty well for about a month or so.  One night he came back to the house and told me, that he needed to get out of the relationship because he had a strong feeling that her family was in the mafia.  When I asked how he knew he told me that her last boyfriend was killed in a car bomb just after they broke up. 

We were in a meeting one night trying to think up a nickname for Ryan Goldschmidt one of our Jewish brothers.  We were trying to come up with names like pennies or Lincoln because Lincoln is on the penny, or bagel… but nothing was good enough.  We sat for about 30 minutes with nothing until Paul shouted out, “how about Pop Tart?”  When we asked him why he said,“Because they are hot when they come out of the oven.”  The brotherhood roared with laughter and that was the name we went with.  It was one of the only nicknames that stuck so well that people who just met him didn’t know that Ryan was his real name.
Everyone remembers me to be the first ΔΚΕ (Dumbest Kids Ever) but Paul was the founding father and I was inducted because I was his little brother.  Our family tree is now known as the ΔΚΕ tree and it is the largest tree in the house.

Driller aka Dave Moorhead built potato gun at his house and brought it to Newark.  This was no ordinary potato gun, it was more like a potato cannon.  It was made with some PVC pipe and it was powered not by hairspray but by compressed air.  When Paul heard of this it was like Christmas morning for him.  Driller, Paul and his Minions went into the back yard and decided to blow stuff up.  They shot potatoes at the fence, the tree, a cement statue named Stumpy, and at the 2 foot cement garden gnome that got me my nickname.  The potatoes weren’t doing enough damage so they got some wooden couch legs that fit perfectly into the barrel and they shot at the cement figures.  Needless to say that stumpy and the garden gnome didn’t stand a chance. 
The next story dates back to hurricane Floyd in September of 99’.  NJIT was flooded and there was no power on the whole campus but we had power back at the house so a lot of people came back to hang out.  I was bored so I went to see what Paul was doing.  He had these pills call Stacker II. I had never even heard of them until just then and he said, “Here try these, they give you a lot of energy….in fact take two.”  Remember that we were basically confined to the house with nothing to do because of all the rain and the state of emergency that New Jersey was in.  So about ten minutes later I was bouncing off the walls, so I went to the basement to find something to do and found that it was flooded with about a foot of water.  I was so hyped up on these freakin pills that I went to the basement and shoveled water out of the door for two hours like I was the Tasmanian Devil.
One of our brothers Matt Greimel worked for Newark’s Mayor Sharpe James.  The Vice President of the United States Al Gore was coming to Newark’s brand new NJPAC (New Jersey Performing Arts Center) for some sort of fundraiser and charity event.  The secret service needed a few people to join in the Vice Presidential motorcade so Matt asked Paul, me and Rob Owens to go.  I remember the date was December 6^th 1997 and I had just turned 21 years old less than a month before and that is the year that you have to renew your license but I hadn’t done it yet.  Paul convinced me that it would be ok though.  We met the secret service agents at the van rental center by Newark Airport and they brought out bomb sniffing dogs to search the vans, and then they did an ID check of our licenses.  I was sweating but Paul seemed confident.  When the President landed we followed the motorcade out of the airport and down the parkway at about 70 mph through a toll that we didn’t pay for.  We then drove to Newark where cops were stationed at every street corner to make sure there was no traffic and so we could get through with no problems.  We felt like kings.  When we arrived at the NJPAC we parked in the back by the storage area, Al Gore got out of the car and went inside.  We were supposed to stay outside in the vans just incase motorcade needed to leave for some sort of emergency.  We sat there for about 2 hours and Paul got a little antsy so he got out of the van to come to my window.  One of the secret service agents came over and told Paul to go back to his van because the snipers stationed atop nearby buildings were getting nervous.  Paul got back in the car pretty quickly.  Soon after we followed the motorcade route in reverse to Newark Airport where we shook Al Gore’s hand.  We finished up the night by having drinks with the secret service met at a bar by Penn Station. 

Paul loved to go to Cluck U Chicken by Seton Hall University, so one night before a ritual event we drove to get 911 wings.  You need to know two things about these wings.  First the sauce is so hot that it slowly eats through the Styrofoam container that they come in, and second they are so hot that you have to sign a waiver just to take them out of the store so you don’t sue the company.  I had never tried them before but I was willing to try anything.  Paul stood by as I bit into the first wing.  When I finished it my mouth was instantly on fire and Paul stood next to me laughing maniacally like it was his plan all day.  Soon my eyes were watering just as much as my mouth, so I wiped the sauce from my fingers and then wiped the tears from the corner of my eyes.  Bad Idea.   My eyes were burning now and I stood in the kitchen for 45 minutes with my eyes under the faucet while Paul continued his evil laugh. 

I don’t remember how it got started but one semester we were playing pranks on each other.  One day I decided to take a bunch of porn magazine pictures, cut them out and tape them all over Paul’s things.  They were on his computer screen, in his butter tray, under his pillow so he would find it when he slept, on his EE books… and the list goes on.  He came home and found all of the pictures except one.  The one he didn’t find was a playboy centerfold picture that I taped to the roll up window shade.  A few days later he rolled down the shade and saw it, but he left it up because he thought it was funny.  About a month went by and it was parents’ day, so we cleaned the room pretty meticulously because we knew his parents would be coming over.  When his parents got there they came up to our room, and we were talking for a while when his mom reached for the pull cord for the window shade.  We both looked at each other knowing exactly what the other was thinking.  Paul’s mom pulled the cord and the window started to roll down but just as it got to the top of the centerfold picture she let the cord go and the window shade stopped.  We both looked at each other in relief. She never saw it.

A girl from his high school had a picture in one of the college editions of playboy magazine.  Paul came home that day and shouted, “MY LIFE IS COMPLETE, I KNOW A GIRL IN PLAYBOY.” 

One semester there were a bunch of muggings on Martin Luther King Blvd.  So one time at a highway clean up service event Paul found a long steel rod. I think it was an old, broken camshaft.  He brought it home, painted it red and black, hung it on the banister by the front door and called it the H.B.G. stick, which stood for Homie Be Good. 

Paul and I were at Home Depot looking at tools and we found a Hilti nail gun, the one that takes a bullet charge for propulsion and a hammer as the firing pin.  This gun, with the right size bullet charge, could shoot a nail into concrete or even steel.  Of course we bought the gun and the charges to shoot into concrete to build a bed in our room.  We were testing the gun by shooting the nails into 2 x 4’s and the 2½ nail drove the whole way into the piece of wood.  Paul got the brilliant idea to open the door to our room so that it was parallel with the front of the house and fire a nail into the wood panel of the door.  He loaded the nail and charge into the gun and put the gun against the panel of the door.  He then hit the hammer at the end of the gun which fired the nail.  The nail blew completely through the door panel, ricocheting off the closet door back at us and it sailed just past Paul’s head, finally coming to rest by sticking in the wall next to the window.  Paul just smiled and did that Paul laugh like he just escaped death.

I don’t remember when this story took place, but a whole bunch of us went to the NJIT bowling alley for a bowling match against another fraternity.  We ended up winning, and as we were leaving Joe Fass and a bunch of guys Paul included decided to acquire a bottle of bowling alley wax.  We took it home and spread it all over the newly tiled chapter room floor.  We were just sliding across the floor and crashing into things, but it was so much fun we called ΦΣΣ, a sorority from down the block, over to hang out and we had what we called the “Slip and Slide Party.”  Paul and his Minions put the wax on the stairs to add to the fun and called people from up stairs to come down.  I am sure you can visualize what happened next.  The best part was that the wax didn’t come off the stairs for a week and people forgot it was slippery.  Paul thought it was hilarious.

When I entered NJIT in 1994 they gave out brand new 486 computers with an amber screen that didn’t even run Windows 95 because it didn’t have enough memory.  They told us that we could keep when we graduated but when it got close to that time the computer was more than obsolete.  I graduated in January 1999 and I came up with a plan to get a new computer for free.  I would somehow break the computer so badly that computer services wouldn’t be able to rebuild it (or format it) and they would have to give me a newer model.  So I enlisted the help of good ol’ BaPow.  Paul went upstairs and got the Jacobs Ladder from Drillers room.  If you don’t remember what a Jacobs Ladder is from high school physics, it is two pieces of metal that are put in a V shape and 50,000 volts are put through it to make an electrical arc between the two pieces of metal, however the 50,000 volts is the important part.  We opened up the computer in our room, exposing all the inner workings.  Paul took the two ends of the Jacobs Ladder to the computer and I remember saying, “Do you know what you’re doing?”  He said, “trust me”…….and he proceeded to short out everything.  A few times he waited too long and certain parts caught fire.  After it was all done we dropped it a bunch of times just to loosen any parts that weren’t set aflame.  When Paul was done we dropped it off at computer services.  A few days later I got a phone call, it was computer services telling me they had fixed the computer and that I should come to pick it up.  We couldn’t believe that they could fix it, apparently they had a bunch of old 486 machines in the back and they used spare parts to repair it.  The computer was still worthless so I gave it to Paul to “stress test” (this was another of his favorite things).  He took it to the roof and dropped it three stories to the ground to finish it off. 
At the end of every chapter meeting we did something called “Brothers and Assholes.”  This was when a brother did something good for another, or someone did something stupid, we would tell the story about what happened.  Well one semester we had “Brothers, Assholes, and things Paul blew up in the Electrical Engineering lab.”  I was in the class with Paul, about 5 guys who we always took class with and a bunch of random E.E. dorks.  There was a tower that held equipment that we needed to perform experiments called LabVolt.  You could interchange power supplies with oscilloscopes with resistors and other technical crap that isn’t important for the story but was really expensive.  Each lab group got their own tower and we would perform experiments while the professor walked around checking on us.  Paul would inevitably blow something up and everyone had their special jobs.  Paul would run across the room to get the new part Dave would take the old one out, and I would distract the professor until they rebuilt the circuit.  Somehow the professor never knew and it happened about 5 times. 

I saved my favorite story for last.  A bunch of brothers went to do an AIDS walk at a local park.  All we had to do was walk around this little pond about 20 times and go home.  There were a few hundred people doing this walk but the Alpha Sigs all stayed in the same general area while we walked and talked all morning.  The only problem was that I had such bad gas.  Now remember we are outside with the wind blowing but it was so bad that everyone couldn’t take it.  Paul kept punching me in the arm so that I would stop, but I just couldn’t.  He got so pissed at me that he challenged me to a duel…. a duel of asses.  When we were done with the walk we went back to the NJIT all you can eat cafeteria and we both ate 2 salad sized bowls of cucumbers and onions, we each had 4 or 5 bowls of Raisin Bran and anything else that would give us gas.  He dubbed the contest Fart Wars.  We locked ourselves into our room that night and farted until one of us couldn’t take it anymore and gives up.  It smelled so bad in the room that no one would come in, and those that did left immediately.  After about 4 hours he conceded defeat, but I just couldn’t stop.  The torture continued for 2 more days.  We kept the windows open to air the room out, and the door closed so not to let it leak out to the rest of the house, but people who were just walking in the hall complained to us about how bad it was as they passed.  Paul never made that challenge again.

I will never forget Paul and all the great times we had together as well as the lessons that he taught me.  I am so lucky to have him as my big brother and my best friend all through college.  I would never have graduated with out him and I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I had never met him.  Causa Latet Vis Est Notissima. 

Brian Feuer     549     aka Bilbo

Paul Angelini’s Farewell party held at Bar Anticipation in Lake Como before he left for Germany.

http://www.dotphoto.com/Go.asp?l=bobboth&P=&AID=1683187&T=1

This is a picture of Paul the first time he tried snowboarding:

http://www.paulangelini.com/gallery/main.php?g2_itemId=176

It was at my parents’ house up by Gore Mountain. The picture was taken in the driveway. I gave Paul simple instructions: Put your weight on your front foot–don’t lean back or you’ll wipe out. Of course, pretty much every beginner has to learn that the hard way, and that’s what Paul did. As he gained speed coming down the driveway, he started leaning back more and more until he did an in-the-air spinout and landed on his back.

“Uuuuugh, I think my ass-crack is leaking”

It turns out he meant to say “bleeding”, and not “leaking”. Apparently his uphill cheek landed before his downhill cheek. Combine that with the momentum he had going, and I guess you can imagine how it must’ve felt.

-Rob “Hick” Owens

AA Class, #518