I can't remember a time when Michael and I weren't friends, more like brothers really. From first grade at Horace Mann to the present we remained in each others' lives. Always there for each other through the ups and downs, major illnesses, for all the good times we celebrated and the losses we grieved together..He was always one of the best dressed kids at school and I envied his straight surfer hair cut. He drove me to school for a couple of years, the first in a brand new Chevy Malibu SS. Together we watched the arrival of the Beatles, the first moon landing, and Joe Namath's Super Bowl victory. After high school and into the college years Michael's house on LaPeer was a weekend gathering place. There I was introduced to Irv Zakheim, Ralph Punaro, and Stuart Blumkin, three of Beverly's finest athletes and funniest guys ever.
As the years rocked on, and even though our lives would go in different directions, Michael and I never moved away from each other. Many Dodgers games, kids' birthdays and graduations followed, and we always had time for regular phone calls. He later developed a passion for cycling and participated in some pretty major rides. One he was most proud of was a national ride from New Jersey to D.C. honoring deceased members of police families. He encouraged us to move to Thousand Oaks near his home in Camarillo. His loving wife Pam would be our daughters' middle school science teacher. Michael bravely fought his year long battle with stage four gastric cancer. As our Horace Mann P.E. teacher would dismiss us on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving weekend he liked to say "Don't eat too much turkey." Every year at this time without fail Michael and I wanted to be first to lay that greeting on the other. Although this Thanksgiving will already be very different I'll again think about our traditional phone call and add RIP my brother from another mother. Love,
Howard Sall
I can't remember a time when Michael and I weren't friends, more like brothers really. From first grade at Horace Mann to the present we remained in each others' lives. Always there for each other through the ups and downs, major illnesses, for all the good times we celebrated and the losses we grieved together..He was always one of the best dressed kids at school and I envied his straight surfer hair cut. He drove me to school for a couple of years, the first in a brand new Chevy Malibu SS. Together we watched the arrival of the Beatles, the first moon landing, and Joe Namath's Super Bowl victory. After high school and into the college years Michael's house on LaPeer was a weekend gathering place. There I was introduced to Irv Zakheim, Ralph Punaro, and Stuart Blumkin, three of Beverly's finest athletes and funniest guys ever.
As the years rocked on, and even though our lives would go in different directions, Michael and I never moved away from each other. Many Dodgers games, kids' birthdays and graduations followed, and we always had time for regular phone calls. He later developed a passion for cycling and participated in some pretty major rides. One he was most proud of was a national ride from New Jersey to D.C. honoring deceased members of police families. He encouraged us to move to Thousand Oaks near his home in Camarillo. His loving wife Pam would be our daughters' middle school science teacher. Michael bravely fought his year long battle with stage four gastric cancer. As our Horace Mann P.E. teacher would dismiss us on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving weekend he liked to say "Don't eat too much turkey." Every year at this time without fail Michael and I wanted to be first to lay that greeting on the other. Although this Thanksgiving will already be very different I'll again think about our traditional phone call and add RIP my brother from another mother. Love,
Howard
Debbie Newmark (Green)
Dear Howard ,
That was such a beautiful tribute to your age old friendship...
May MIchael's memory forever be a blessing.
With my condolences,
Debbie
Bunny Bari Schwartz (Brown)
I remember Michael fondly at Horace Mann. I'm saddened that he left us too soon.