Samuel "Nick" Barol

Nick Barol was born in Philadelphia on March 6, 1929. "As far as I know", he recalled, "it was not declared a national holiday." Neither was May 7th, 2024, the day he told his last joke, at the age of 95, to the people he made laugh the hardest - his family.

His birth certificate from Germantown Hospital reads Samuel Richard Barol -named after his grandfather - but it's not a name he went by for long. When Samuel was a baby, his Jewish grandmother said he looked like a round loaf of pumpernickel bread, and from then on he was known to everyone as Nick.

He was a deeply funny person, with a propensity for puns - the more appalling the better. He loved a good wisecrack and threw everything he had into laughing, even at the end of his life when coughing made it difficult. No one could make him laugh like Mel Brooks' jokes. Nothing could make him dance like Benny Goodman's clarinet. And nothing could make him cry like his beloved Dallas Cowboys on a losing streak. Yet, no matter how bad the Cowboys were, he never gave up on them. Loyal is one of many qualities friends and family admired about Nick. His neighbors, Amy and Larry, remember him as "thoughtful, smart as hell, a voracious reader, witty and soft-hearted, especially to animals." Long-time friend, Bomi, said "In Nick, integrity was always a guiding light." Grandsons Logan and Jaden called their Pop-Pop "wise, calm, inquisitive, and kosher." (Pop-pop would be proud of their choice of words, especially that last one). He credits his parents with instilling many of those qualities in him. Both immigrants from Eastern Europe, Alfred and Pearl raised Nick and his two older siblings in Philadelphia's Logan neighborhood. It was the heart of the Depression.

Nick had a few heroes over his lifetime -his older brother Dan, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, and a handful of college and medical school professors - but none made an impression on him like his father Alfred, a chemist who ran the research lab at the penicillin manufacturer Wyeth Pharmaceuticals in Philadelphia. Nick was proud of his dad's accomplishments. One of his happiest memories was a business trip Alfred took him on by train from Philadelphia to California and back in 1937. Eighty-seven years later, Nick could still remember the itinerary.

During his 70s, Nick wrote a collection of memories from his life that he titled "Snippets":

"It's not that my recollections are important or valuable to others," he wrote. "But it is important to me, in hindsight, to be able to review my life, to understand where I could have done better, and in what ways I did well."

He attended Central High School and Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, where he was, by his own admission, an indifferent student. With the relentless introspection that followed him through life, Nick always wondered if his decision to train as a physician after graduating Swarthmore in 1950 -rather than be a zoologist, which he was interested in - was an attempt to please his father, who had risen in the professional world in spite of the slights that came his way as an immigrant Jew. "My father used to tell me that because I was Jewish, I needed to excel, not just get by," he wrote in his memoirs. "I am not sure that Dad would believe I have excelled. I certainly don't." That self-deprecation was typical of him. It was also, along with his empathy and genuine interest in people, what made him a better doctor than he ever thought he was.

In December 1952, while a medical student at the University of Pennsylvania, Nick married his first wife Barbara. They eventually divorced, but had three daughters, Sylvia, Margaret ("Rita"), and Mary, who are lifetime residents of New York State. Nick opened his private internal medicine practice in Ithaca, NY in 1960. One of his professional duties in Ithaca was to instruct nurses at the Tompkins County Medical Center in cardiac care. It was there, in 1968, that he met Margery Vaughan, an ex-Army nurse and Ithaca native. One of their first dates was dinner at the faculty club on the top floor of the Ithaca College high-rise dorm, with a view over the city and Cayuga Lake. "We had a fancy steak dinner, complete with wine," he recalled. "Boy, was I in love." They were married on the Cornell campus in June of 1969. "For our honeymoon we rented a pop-up tent trailer and went to Maine, where we camped in the rain, ate seafood at the beach, and then returned in time to go to the Woodstock Festival."

They began their life together in a beautiful home in the woods outside Ithaca welcoming their first daughter, Juline, in 1970, and two years later, Jennifer.

It was after a medical meeting in Albuquerque in 1973 that Nick and Margy began to think about getting out of upstate New York winters. A trip to Tucson the next year nudged them further along. When Nick heard about an opening in the Department of General Medicine at the Lovelace Clinic in Albuquerque, he applied and got the job. It was July 1975, the beginning of a new chapter. Nick piled his wife, two small daughters, and a very sedated cat into two cars and headed west.

The transition to Southwest life wasn't without its speed bumps. During one dinner early on in Albuquerque, Nick was given a tamale and attempted to eat it wrapper and all, a story he delightedly told for many years. But New Mexico soon felt like home. Years later he recalled "the wonderful aroma of roasting green chile in autumn."

After four years of big city living in Albuquerque, Nick and Margy moved their girls - and a growing animal brood - 20 miles away to the East Mountain town of Cedar Crest, where they were reacquainted with tire chains, snow shovels and freezing temperatures. For more than 20 years, Cedar Crest was the family's home, and Lovelace was Nick's professional base. He became the chairman of the General Medicine department a year after he was hired. In 1984, he was named medical director of Lovelace's HMO. He held that position until his first retirement in 1994.

Being raised in the Great Depression by immigrant Jews, Nick was taught the importance of economic security as well as hard work. Retirement would not come easily for Nick, and he returned to the work force after a few years as a part-time utilization review for various HMOs.

There was travel, of course. Nick's favorite adventure with Margy was probably a two-month RV trip from New Mexico north into Canada, accompanied by the family's two cats. There were Elderhostel trips to Africa, Costa Rica, and New Zealand, as well as many in the US.

He and Margy volunteered for NMAS, giving loving support to people living with AIDS. Nick had a passion for roses, and spent many hours tending his rose garden. Always feeding his mind with books, he had a particular fondness for Westerns. He participated in a men's group for many decades, staying in touch with Jim, the last remaining group member up until Nick's death.

Nick enjoyed taking photographs and videos of his travels and glorious rose bushes, as well as holidays and quiet moments with friends and family. Thanks to Margy, those memories are neatly organized in a collection of photo albums and scrapbooks that fill Nick's bookshelf. He frequently flipped through them and reminisced about his life through photos of his family, including photos of his pets, and pictures from his past- from the pumpernickel baby, to the boy who survived scarlet fever, to the man who had the respect of his peers and the love of his family.

As much as he loved the Southwest, he never stopped missing the woods and waterfalls of Ithaca, as well as the wonderful friends and colleagues he knew there.

He took great pleasure in his life with Margy, showing his unconditional love for her for 56 years. He was proud of the accomplishments of his daughter Juline with her successful voice studio, and Jen's career as a social worker for underprivileged families. He adored his grandsons Jaden and Logan, and sons-in-law Eric and Mark, and his niece, Ellen and nephew, Bill. He was loved by all, including his devoted caregiver, Shawna.

As his life neared its completion, the one constant he adored was his dog Pepper who insisted on being on his bed at all times.

Asked shortly after entering hospice how he was feeling, Nick - in his trademark dry wit - responded, "Well, you know what they say: If you got it, you got it. And I've had it."

To honor Nick and his love of animals, please donate to an animal rescue of your choice.