During my dad's last few days, with his family and friends gathered around, we made a list and sang to him some of his favorite "car songs". Is it any surprise that the list of songs included Sunshine on My Shoulder, Oh What a Beautiful Day, It's a Wonderful World, or High Hopes? My dad woke up every day and was even more optimistic and enthusiastic than the day before. He loved every day he lived. And his unforgettable smile announced this to the world.

My dad loved solving problems. And no problem was too big or too small for his enthusiasm. He always had time for all of us, and our problems - so many times he was part of the solution. When something could not be fixed, he would encourage us not dwell on it, but move on. But, of the problems that were fixable he would never be content with the first solution - how often we heard him say "that's good, but I think we can do better". And when a problem was solved, his ever enthusiastic "you got it!"

Dad had a deep love for his work. And he taught us all the value of this love. He worked hard, but smiling every day he would tell you he was having fun. And he wanted those with him to be having the same type of enjoyment. About our own careers, he would tell our family, to "find a job that you love, and when you stop loving your work, find a new job." He always pushed us to explore our interests. He loved learning new things, and he loved when those around him were learning new things.

Dad always struck me as so incredibly humble and modest about his personal achievements. In fact, it was my mother who called me to tell me dad had been accepted into the National Academy of Engineers -something I knew he felt was one of the greatest of recognitions in science. But he was never humble about the successes of his friends and family. He would call me to tell me of everyone's triumphs. He was always calling to tell me about a story my sister wrote, or about a case my brother successfully resolved. His warm laughter would engulf me as he would share a conversation he had with his sister Hope whom he loved so much. He beamed when he talked of the milestones of his grandchildren Alex, Molly, and Celia, and his grandnieces Nina and Naomi. And his friends as well. When he told me of the fish Gary Westerhoff caught in Argentina, you would have thought it was he who caught them. Larry Kaiden's latest sailing adventure was told as though he had been there. Barbara Manners political achievements were told as if he lived in Ridgefield. And even over the phone you could just feel the warmth of his smile.

But there was no one he who talked more of than my mom. She was his bedrock foundation. He knew that what ever he choose to do, she would be there cheering him on. His greatest fan. He knew that all of his children's successes were really do to Iris's commitment to all of us. It was mom who would call him and say, one of us needed help with a school essay or complex business problem. Mom was his catalyst. And he never missed an opportunity to let everyone know.

We have gathered here today, because each of us feels lucky to have known Paul - to have shared his friendship. But if my dad was here (and he would have loved such a gathering), I know he would say that it was he who was so lucky to have had all of you: his wonderful family and friends. Several years ago just before an invasive cardiac procedure, he told me "if anything happens to me, I have no regrets. I have been very fortunate and have lived a great life. I fell blessed. Tell everyone that." And so today I am doing exactly that.

There is no child in the world luckier than I been - my father was my best friend. He shared his love with me every day. But I do not want today be a day of mourning for what we have lost, but a day to celebrate his life, and the gifts that he has given each us. My dad was not a hero, he as a superhero. And we all know that real superheroes never die. They live forever in our hearts and minds. I know my dad will.