The family of Buz Gitlin would like to thank everyone for coming here today to remember a really good man who successfully battled renal failure for 22 years and died peacefully surrounded by his loved ones on Wednesday, June 16th. What matters most to us is how Buz lived, and that is what we would like to celebrate today: his accomplishments, his challenges, and the life of love he created in his 52 years.

The son of Rose and the late Mac Gitlin, he grew up in Kensington, Great Neck in the 50s and 60s, the youngest child who had an older brother Bruce and older sister Susan. It was Susan who gave him the name Buz, for she was a three year old who couldn't say brother well. So Alan Michael Gitlin became Buz to all the world. He had a great childhood playing with his neighborhood friends, enjoying summers at Kensington Pool and attending Camp Pembina which was North of Montreal. He loved going on ski trips with his family and his special trip out West to all the national parks with his family when he was nine.

Buz graduated from Great Neck South in 1965, and he probably passed more on his outgoing personality than on his grades. He always used to say that he made the top 90 percent of the students possible. Academics were not his strength, but he excelled in athletics. A championship soccer player who played semi-pro ball in high school, he was also a school diver and swimmer.

In our family he regaled all the little nieces and nephews with his legendary froggie dive and had them spellbound in awe with his double twisting backward dives. He played an A level tennis game and later in life became an 8 handicap golfer at North Shore Country Club. He skied, snowmobiled, ice skated, water skied, swam like a fish, played soccer before there were clubs and soccer moms, and, if he were lucky, occasionally beat his mother in ping pong. His parents were very involved in all his sports and came to so many of the games.

Everyone marvelled at the irony that two renal patients ended up married together. I did not meet him, however, in a doctor's office. I met Buz when we both were 19 years old when his parents sent him to summer school at the University of Massachusetts. Someone dared me to throw a football at the next boy who walked through the door, and he really knew how to catch a tight, spiral pass. Amazed that a girl could do that in 1966, he asked me out for a soda and a few hours at a nearby lake and proposed to me that day with the pull ring from a TAB can, saying we could get married in June, 1969, when I graduated. Although I had promised myself that I would never date a New York Jewish boy again, Buz was irresistible and so handsome, dressing frequently in all white. He had a breezy, playful manner and was so much fun, the perfect antidote for a very serious student. He was the first boy that ever made me feel pretty. He loved the fact that when he brought me home to meet his parents, his father liked me so much that he asked Buz if I had a twin. Of course I did, my twin sister Joan. As he predicted from our first date, we were married on June 29, 1969 in Hartford, CT with Bruce serving as his best man. We almost got lucky enough to celebrate a 30th anniversary at the end of this month. When we wrote up the wedding announcement, we said that Buz was a materials and systems coordinator at Milgo Industrial in Brooklyn, where he worked for 24 years. In reality he was a gofer and forklift driver who was learning the metal business from his father and brother.

After a month long honeymoon to Las Vegas and California, we settled into Roslyn and then moved to Strathmore in 1970 and ultimately to our present home at 111 Village Rd. in 1978. On our first anniversary, he learned that he had less than 50 percent kidney function and would eventually need dialysis. When Buz lay dying this week, his beloved Dr. Robert Mossey, whom he has known for almost 25 years, was there for him, explaining to the family that Buz was one of the longest survivors with renal failure at North Shore University Hospital, a real pioneer. Dr. Mossey was there for his very first treatment, quacking like Donald Duck to distract him and telling him he would end up as a midget cause each dialysis treatment caused you to lose a half an inch, and he was there when he had to let him go and find peace.. They had a love and trust that is rarely achieved in a patient/doctor relationship. In his final years, Buz never wanted to be too far from Bob cause he always knew that Bob would be there for him, encouraging and supporting him through tough times. We are so grateful for the affection and great medical attention Buz received from the entire renal team at North Shore University Hospital. Even in dying, Buz taught them things about long term transplant drugs, the benefits of home dialysis, and the effects of smoking, which he was never able to give up although he tried everything known to man to help him beat his addiction to nicotine.

Although the doctors told us we would probably never have a child because he had advanced kidney disease, Buz fooled the medical pros again and was thrilled when his adored and adoring daughter, Nikki Renee, was born. He was one of the first fathers back in 1974 to have Lamaze training and watch as his daughter was born, turning from purple to bright pink in a flash. No father could possibly have been more indulgent and doting on a daughter. She definitely had him wrapped around her fingers, able to get whatever Mom wouldn't consent to by just saying two words: but dad. Nikki was truly the light of his life, his special blessing from God. And he indulged her because he always felt that he would never live long enough to see her married.

When Buz started dialysis in 1977, it was a completely different experience than it is today. Dialysis was a new technique that doctors thought would, with compliance, keep you alive for two to three years. He hated the needles, the burdensome fatigue, the five hour treatments, the inflexible schedule, and the limited food choices. He didn't have the energy to maintain a his last boat, the Energy One named after Nikki whose initial are NRG ,and he had to give up so much of his athletic life. He couldn't play his competitive A level tennis for he tired easily, but he discovered golf and that literally saved him. For eight years he loved his golf playing life at North Shore Country Club where he played with the pro on Monday and managed to sneak in four or five rounds of golf a week. Members of the club loved him, for he always had a funny joke or observation and played a speedy round of golf under four hours. He was a natural athlete. When we started home dialysis, we were pioneers again, the second family to do dialysis at home from North Shore. Nikki was just an adorable, blonde haired tyke who loved to play nurse for her dad, pumping up the blood pressure machine and bringing him bandaids. Only when she was about six did she realize that everyone else's dad didn't come home from work and go on dialysis.

Buz had a good sense of humor about his dialysis. When my brother Ed Samuels was on dialysis at the same time, they made a tape of their fistula sounds that sounded like the dueling banjoes from the theme of the movie Deliverance. Fistulas are the site at which an artery and vein are connected to forcefully pump blood into the dialysis machine. And, as niece Deborah Cherlin reminded us, he told our nieces and nephews that he was the real Six Million Dollar man with real bionics in his arm. The kids loved to feel his strange and scary arm with the loud thump. And, he was a fabulous Uncle. Debbie reminded us that he was the cool uncle who was magic, who could amaze them as he played with them. His favorite trick was taking a burning cigarette and making it totally disappear. Only years later did he reveal to his nieces and nephews that he performed the trick with a special rubber thumb. Buz waited for Nikki to grow up before he attempted a transplant and for better outcomes with the introduction of the drug cyclosporin. And he received a cadaver kidney in Boston from an 18 year old woman on his forty-first birthday. True to form, he told the doctor that he wasn't allowed to drink alcohol for three years and he expected a complimentary PAP smear yearly. The transplant freed him from dialysis and our family and friends rejoiced in our good fortune.

It is hard for me to believe that Buz won't be going into the millennium with me. He would have loved the technology of the future, for he was an avid computer buff who started 25 years ago with the first Apple and ended his life making web pages and creating a desk top publishing business that concentrated on real estate and health marketing. After Nikki, I'd say that his proudest accomplishment was starting and running a very successful desk top business where his clients and vendors became some of his best friends. Nikki's boy friend Scott Kranzler remarked that Buz had to leave us early because God needed him in heaven to solve the Y2K problem. Every time I turn on my computer and go on AOL, I expect to see an instant message or some sign from Buz. Perhaps one day we;ll meet on the grand internet of eternity. If you are what you eat, then Buz was a true boy of the 50s who was a brand manager's perfect client. Seven/Eleven coffee, Entemman's Chocolate Donuts, Hebrew National Franks, Heinz Vegetarian beans, pastrami sandwiches from Ben's, pizza from Pizza Pub, and Mallomars were his favorites. His favorite meal was a cheeseburger, fries and a coke from the diner. It is hard to believe that a man in the 90s who spent his entire life on the North Shore had never had sushi, Starbucks coffee, Perrier, Thai food, or cappuccino. And his idea of a great Chinese dinner was consistent: won ton soup, egg roll, chicken chow mein and beef with broccoli. His only splurge was a shrimp cocktail when he went to a finer restaurant.

Clothes were immaterial to him. The last suit he bought and wore was for Nikki's Bat Mitzvah 12 years ago. His clients understood and accepted his uniform: sweat pants, tee shirts, an old pair of sneakers, and a baseball cap. His tee shirt collection reflected some of his loves: he loved being volunteer fireman with the Roslyn Highlanders, regarding some of the men as his dear friends. Proudly he wore a baseball cap that said Jewish Firefighter, quite an oxymoron. He was steadfastedly devoted to volleyball...whether he was coaching for the Roslyn School district, helping the LI Big Apple Volleyball Club, or cheering Nikki at her high school and college games. As a Washington University volleyball dad, he traveled the country every weekend to see Nikki play volleyball and maintained a clipping service for her. That his daughter became an All-American volleyball player meant the world to him, because he was cut down from his sports ambitions with kidney disease at such an early age. And in the end, which was so bitter sweet, Nikki became his best cheerleader, never giving up, encouraging him to keep on fighting and get well.

Buz will sorely be missed by his family and friends. An outgoing guy who always had a joke in his repertoire and love in his heart, Buz has now found peace at last in a place where there are no dialysis machines, where he can access the world's speediest computers, where there are no real estate agents, where he always plays perfect golf, and where he has no physical limitations.

We thank God for his love and his life and wish him God speed on his next adventure.