At least once or twice throughout the course of our lives, we will have to move. We will all experience the feeling of moving into our first apartment. The feeling of having your own place. No matter how long you stay there or how many times you move after that, that place will always be the one that you remember with the most fondness. Be it two years or fifty years later, that place will be remembered by you the way a sea Captain remembers his favorite ship, or a jockey remembers his favorite horse, or a football player remembers his favorite team he played on. And whether your next house is a 2-bedroom apartment or a mansion in Bel Air, that will always be your favorite place.

My favorite place is, was – and always will be Paulie’s – and now Paulie’s is no more – and that has made me think a lot about what Paulie’s was – and always will be.

Let’s start with what it was: Paulie’s was my apartment on Brigham Street that I had rented in the Fall of 1996. It was my first ever apartment on my own. I had 100% control over the place: Where stuff could go, what the place could look like, and when everybody had to go home. For the first time in my life, when someone asked me where I lived, I could answer, “Well, I have my own place.” An answer I have always wanted to say.

In the Summer of 1998, my small collection of beer memorabilia morphed into a collection the likes of which many have never seen. The one plastic sign and two bar mirrors I owned became a bar with four stools, five neon signs, two-dozen bar mirrors, and an entire living room full of countless amounts of beer memorabilia including over two hundred beer bottles from around the world – but it was so much more than that.

It was a place where anyone could come to enjoy some good times with good people. It was a place where whenever you opened the door, you would hear the laughter of all of your friends having a great time. It was a place where you could have a great time on a Friday night and take a picture with everyone there – and then return two nights later to find that picture on the wall. It was a place where on any given night that you decided to drop by, you had a good time waiting for you.

And now that place is gone – and all I can do is remember what it was –and what it always will be.

It will always be the place where I made the most friends in one summer, where I had the most good times, where I knew every night meant friends would drop by – and where I will always look to when I want to remember the fondest moments of my life.