Harold Fass

Harold (Hal) Fass, 68, of Norwalk, Connecticut passed away at home in the early hours of Saturday, November 15, 2025 from a rare form of multiple myeloma.
Born in Brooklyn, Hal grew up in Franklin Square, Long Island, and attended Valley Stream North High School. (In a simple twist of fate, Hal passed away the same day as his 50th reunion, which he had planned to attend). He then went to Harpur College, at the State University of New York in Binghamton where he earned a degree in Political Science. It was during these college years that the main drivers of Hal's life-his creative mind, his writing talent, his love of music and travel came to the surface. He had a weekly show on WHRW, the school's radio station, playing punk and new wave. He bought himself a used Rickenbacker electric bass guitar, taught himself to play, and soon formed his first band, The Killer Tomatoes. He spent a semester abroad in Denmark, and traveled around Europe, seeing Bob Marley perform live in a bullring in Ibiza in June,1978. He joined the staff of Pipedream, the college newspaper, writing music reviews. And in another twist of fate, he met Carole Erger, Pipedream's staff photographer, when they were both assigned to cover The Talking Heads show at The Other Place, a tiny off campus bar. Always a joker, he often referred to Carole as his first wife, even though they remained happily married for over 40 years.
After college, Hal and Carole lived on Prince Street in downtown Manhattan, had a son, Gregory Dylan, and moved to Westport, Connecticut. Their daughter, Madeline Harper, was born shortly after. They lived in Westport for nearly 25 years, before moving to their dream home by the water, in Harbor View, South Norwalk.
Professionally, after earning an MBA at Baruch College, Hal worked in account management at Grey Advertising, eventually rising to EVP, Managing Partner. After stints at other agencies, he landed as Senior Consultant and General Manager at Consumer Dynamics, a marketing consulting firm in New York City, where he stayed until he was diagnosed with the disease that would eventually take his life. Even though he was commuting to the city five days a week, and travelling the globe for business (China, Russia, Japan, Australia, South Africa, among other places), Hal's love for life propelled him and his family to Ludlow, Vermont every weekend in the winter, where he taught snowboarding at Okemo Mountain for almost 20 years.
During the five years he lived with cancer, Hal made the most of every moment and never let the disease define him. He cherished his time with his family, traveling to Mexico for Greg's wedding to Emily Oster in 2022, and to Crete in 2024 to celebrate his and Carole's 40th wedding anniversary. He made it to Los Angeles this past August for the birth of his first grandchild, Lou Riley. He rode his 1968 Vespa Rally just for the thrill, and his Triumph Bonneville with his daughter Maddy riding pillion to raise money for men's health in the Distinguished Gentleman's Ride. He cultivated friendships new and old. He wrote a screenplay. And he picked up his Rickenbacker again, formed a new band called The Clams, and played with them until the end.
If you would like to make a donation in honor of Hal, his son Greg will be running in a marathon in 2026 with The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation Team for Cures. Here is the link to his fundraising page: https://endurance.themmrf.org/participant/1192
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Can we please demilitarize how we talk about cancer? By Hal Fass
I was diagnosed with an aggressive case of non-secretory multiple myeloma 5 years ago, in November of 2020. Since then, my life has been a rollercoaster of ups and downs. The times I've gotten to spend with my loved ones, family and friends when treatments have been working, have brought me joy that even exceeded many of the best experiences I lived before. The tough times have challenged everything I've ever assumed and hoped. I believe that I'm still here for a number of reasons. Yes, I put my trust in the best science has to offer, the best teams of doctors I could find. I learned, I questioned, I did everything possible to believe there was potential good news around the corner. I relied on the personal love and support of my family and friends. But I am also plain lucky. I haven't fought harder or battled the disease better than those less fortunate than me. And I certainly haven't been less of a winner than those who are living in remission long term.
Living with cancer is fucking hard. There has been plenty of bad news, debilitating side effects, loss of dignity, long hospital stays, and setbacks that have preceded and then followed every turn of good fortune. There's the feeling of being cheated out of a phase of life I always looked forward to-being retired and finally having time to do what I love most- travel, and write and play music. There's the need to make sure to communicate the realities to my adult children so they could be emotionally prepared for any eventuality. Through all of this I've tried my best not to lose hope or wallow in self-pity. That doesn't make me a better fighter, it just means I'm a hopeful realist.
In writing this I found a piece written by Betsy de Parry in 2002. Frankly, she said exactly what I'm feeling today - and she articulated it far better than I can. As she wrote, "The fact is, I never, not once, fought my cancer. Rather, I made a series of choices with the hope of extending my life – like, among other things, showing up at the hospital and treating myself to a series of potentially life-saving drugs until one of them worked. That's not fighting. It was choosing the possibility of life over certain death." She called to demilitarize the discussion of the cancer experience, but unfortunately her recommendation is still falling on deaf ears. When Steve Scalise was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, many of his colleagues and the media couldn't help but fall back on this trite military battle language. " Steve Scalise has battled like hell before, and I have no doubt he will beat cancer and recover." "My friend Steve Scalise has always been a fighter, and I know cancer doesn't stand a chance." And how many media obituary stories do we need to hear with headlines such as "Kelowna mother of 6 loses battle with cancer." Cancer is not a battle that you win or lose. You don't fight. And if you succumb, it's certainly not because you didn't fight hard enough.
Have I tried to be strong and positive? Yes. Have I followed the doctors' advice and recommendations? Yes. But, if I am fortunate to continue to survive and thrive, it's not because I fearlessly faced the enemy with guns blazing. It's because I believed in the latest science, I sought out the best doctors and treatments I could find, I surrounded myself with people I love and who love me, I stayed as positive and hopeful as I could be. But with all that, if my cancer comes roaring back after a treatment stops working, it's not because I didn't try hard enough. And if someone else's cancer takes their life too soon, it's not because they didn't battle hard enough and lost. Frankly it's insulting.
Dealing with cancer is not a battle. If anything, It's a test. A test of one's belief- belief in science, in positive thinking, in hope and in the power of love. The love and the people who support you with that love give you the strength to press on and live through that test at least for a time. To want to live to see that next milestone, to touch their faces again. They are my motivation. They are the dream of a future. And you understandably would give anything to be able to share that future with them. But there is also sadness, frustration, anger. There is questioning why, again and again, only to realize after all your studying and preparation, there is no answer to the unknown. There is no fight. There is no battle. There is no winning and losing. Yes, there is resistance. And at some point, there must be acceptance.
As I've told my wife and kids, when I ultimately succumb to this horrible disease it will not be because I lost my battle after a long and valiant fight. I never want anyone to express it in those terms. In respect to the millions of people with cancer, can we please demilitarize how we talk about cancer?