I called Paul “Lord Moshimer.” He was a big man, in his former life he was a fire chief and First Responder, he knew how to rescue things, it was perhaps natural that he and Pamela found one another and devoted themselves to the rescue and nurture of horses.

When I first met Paul, I could hardly believe his presence and charisma. Some days he looked like Moses coming down from the mount, on others he reminded me of Lord Nelson standing on the deck of his flagship, sailing off to challenge the Spanish Armada.

He filled whatever space he was in, he embodied the idea of the larger than life human being with his large frame and white hair and beard. But he was a gentle giant, he loved to laugh at himself and remind others not to take things too seriously. One day, a passerby saw a horse at Blue-Star taking a nap and he pulled into the driveway and demanded to know if the horse was being abused, and what was being done about it.

Pamela tried to explain that the horse was sleeping, but the man become more belligerent and obnoxious. Suddenly, Paul was hovering by the car, fixing the man with his steely blue eyes and asking softly “is there a problem here?” No, said the man, no problem, and he left.

Paul was a peacemaker, not a fighter, but he stood for many good things and would not easily back down from them. I liked his red bi-focals, always hanging from his shirt. He had a great dubious look when he put them on and stared at somebody.I think Paul had a good sense of who he was and how he wanted to be seen. He told me once that me and some of his other friends were going to do great things together.

I believe that is true, and I love him for saying it.