Phil and I grew up in the same neighborhood, just a few streets apart. We went to the same school, and as the neighborhood was heavily Jewish, we also went to the same temple. We spent a lot of time together. I recall one afternoon walking home after school with him, when a car pulled up, and 5 guys got out. They didn't ask us for money, they just started beating us up. Phil suffered a bloody broken nose and we went back to school to see the nurse. It was frightening, but most of our time together was fun. 

We often went to each other's house to play. Snowball fights in the winter, eating pizza at a local pizza parlor, and playing board games like Monopoly. I fondly remember his parents, Marvin and Shirley, of blessed memory, his sister Julie, as a little girl, and his brother Neil, of blessed memory. Neil and I were also very close. I will never forget the day his wife Ruthy called me to tell me he was dying. I will always remember the day Kathy called me to share the similar news about Phil. It immediately takes the wind out of your sails, and you are floating on a sea without direction, tremendously sad. 

But that kind of feeling eventually gives way to all of the great memories of Phil for his years on earth. Few are as good natured as Phil was. He liked to make jokes, he liked to laugh. He was a gentle soul, a sensitive soul, a caring soul. He was righteous and has duly earned his place in heaven. Rest in peace, dear friend, rest in peace.