The Grammarians Toast Paul Violi Friday, May 6th5:30-7:00 p.m. Dixon Place - 161 Chrystie Street Free, open to the public, cash bar Directions at www.dixonplace.org Paul's death left many New York City creative writing students mourning their beloved professor. Those who wish to hear Violi’s work and share memories are invited to Dixon Place (161 Chrystie St.) on Friday, May 6, from 5:30 to 7:00 pm. The event is free and open to the public. For those who would like to volunteer as readers, please email Marty Correia at [email protected] by April 30th to be included in the program.

David Pinelli said... My older cousin, Paul Violi is gone and I'm still in a state of disbelief. I always looked up to Paul and he embodied what it was like to be a fine young man growing up after WWII in a rural setting, which was Greenlawn in those days. A period in time; both good and bad; which is forever gone. I remember his love of adventure, his curiosity, love of the outdoors and his knowledge of the many American Indian tribes. He read everything about their love of the land, of nature and about their survival skills, which he put into practice in the forests and rivers on Long Island. I remember Paul as a teenager, taking off and spending many days by himself with his canoe on the Nissequoque River, stopping to study the wildlife and flora, get in adventures and make friends along the way. In my eyes at that time, he was like Samuel Clemens and his Life on the Mississippi, only 2,000 miles closer to New York. Knowing Paul as I did, his writing seemed to me to be a combination of Walt Whitman meeting Bret Harte by way of Oscar Wilde. Great charm, wit and humor. From an early age, I always sensed that Paul found what we all want and very few of us get. I don't think that anyone could fail to be a better person for having known him. Goodness is the greatest force in the world and Paul had it in abundance.

This is stunning news. I taught with the perpetually youthful Paul for twenty years at NYU - until I left in 2000. I contacted him last Fall to ask for a poem to include in a new journal we're starting at CUNY, which he agreed to provide. Though I told him of my recent heart surgery, he never let on that he was ill -(said "things are swell" - which in retrospect sounds like a bit of Violian irony)- He just commiserated with me:"Glad to hear you're out of the repair shop." Paul always seemed ageless - and somehow so self-contained as to be inviolate - I think of him as forever 30. His shrewd intelligence, humor, and generosity will live on in all those he touched and influenced. He would have made a great young old man. Dear Paul - You are truly loved - Kate Falvey