At Stu Kumm's funeral "celebration" on July 14, 2004 one of the speakers called him a "Renaissance Man." Usually I cringe when I hear this term. Most times it is given to people who do not deserve it. However, when used to describe my friend Stuart Kumm, the accolade pales before the man.

The first time I met this 6 ft. 3 inch giant of a man from Plainview, he was engaged in a heated political argument with a tiny, female elementary school teacher. I rushed into the fray on Stu's side and we became fast friends forever.

Making lifelong friends in your mid-60's is almost an oxymoron. The childhood years are missing and usually cannot be retrieved. With Stu we had a whole world to talk about. We spoke of the Bronx, Dewitt Clinton High School, the New York Yankees, world travel, CCNY, politics, Long Island, religion and the inadequacies and the foibles of man.

Stu was a New York City assistant principal and he and his delightfully adventurous wife Sherry have been everywhere - all six continents except Antarctica, as one of the eulogists mentioned. He graduated from CCNY as a chemist, was an expert on opera, Gilbert and Sullivan (he could sing entire scores) - literature, and art. As his son Gary said at the "celebration" Stu would stand in front of a painting for over 10 minutes. He would expertly analyze the art and categorize it accurately.

He would call me three and four times a day to discuss a New York Yankee or Brooklyn Dodger player from the 1950s, 1960s, to the present. A rabid Yankee fan, he would attend Yankee games and with his voracious appetite polish off more food than any human I had ever met.

Stu was kind and he always had a joke or pun on his lips. When I told an old joke for the second or third time he would laugh uproariously as if I had told it for the initial time. When he started a joke no human force could stop him, even if you told him he had told that story to you six times previously. I remember and I miss his deep, hearty laughter very much.

We were in the park at Grant's Tomb when the first signs of tragedy struck. We (Stu and Sherry, Lorraine and I) were on our way to see Iolanthe, one of Stu's favorite Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. He began to have trouble remembering the lyrics. It was unusual. When he spoke he also could not remember nouns. He said, "You know," every time he wanted to use a name or object. Lorraine, who is an expert on speech, whispered to me that possibly Stu had a blockage or a brain tumor. Unfortunately she was correct.

After over a year of steady decline, my pal Stu succumbed. His memorial/funeral was filled with wonderful eulogies. One of his former students, now a special education teacher, spoke of his encouragement. Music that he loved was played between the stories of a lifetime, delivered by faithful friends.

At the "celebration" there was much more laughter than tears. My pal Stu would have loved it that way. He would have told a few jokes himself.

A true "Renaissance man" has left us.