A Remembrance of Paul Lippmann

I met Paul Lippmann in June 1990, when I went for the first time to Stockbridge for the annual meeting of the Rapaport-Klein Study Group at the Austen Riggs Center. I was coming from Italy, was the only one of the group coming from abroad, and immediately Paul invited me to stay in his house on Cherry Street. I still remember my excitement in seeing Fran and Paul’s house, which was huge for the standards I was used to, with many rooms, a swimming pool, a lake in the front, golf courses all around, and at times you could even see some deer, an experience that was extraordinary to me. What left me full of envy was also Fran’s office, that was in a separate part of the house with its own door, beautiful, full of books, pillows and nice furniture, surely a therapeutic place in itself. During every meeting, on Saturday from 6 pm to 8 pm, there were the traditional “Cocktails at the Lippmann’s” that was actually a fabulous party that ended much later, usually with everybody sitting in a circle, taking turns telling incredible jokes. Other guests were my friend Morris Eagle (with whom I usually came to Stockbridge), and Sophie Freud (a dear friend of Fran and Paul for a long time, who sadly died this year, like Paul). But I have to say that what was to me even more extraordinary was Paul, the person he was. He was full of affection, warmth, generosity, always engaging, stimulating, and I would say… beautiful (my partner told me she was attracted to him, which made me feel jealous). In this context, I want to report an experience that was somewhat shocking to me, because it was not what I was used to: one day, in greeting me, Paul kissed me on the mouth (Paul was the only man who ever did this to me). Later I learned that this is not uncommon in some American families and among friends, but I was coming from a different country, and if you add this to

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