The name Paul comes from the Latin word paulus, meaning “humble.” And at Summer House, we have had the privilege of knowing two very special men named Paul: Paul Emard and Paul Furlan.

This year, we said goodbye to both of them. While their lives were very different, they shared something that meant so much to us: they were both an important part of the Summer House family.

When someone has been part of your community for many years, their absence is felt in all the little places. You notice when their voice isn’t there, when their familiar smile isn’t walking through the door, or when you find yourself expecting to hear a story you’ve heard a hundred times before. Paul Emard and Paul Furlan each left those kinds of memories behind. And for that, we are incredibly grateful.

Paul Emard. If you knew Paul, you probably knew about his love for music. Actually, “love” might not be a big enough word. Music was part of Paul’s identity. For an incredible 52 years, beginning in 1972, Paul volunteered with the UC Davis Marching Band, eventually retiring from the band in 2024. For generations of Aggie Bandsmen, Paul wasn’t simply someone who helped behind the scenes. He was part of the band family. And then there was the tambourine.

Paul’s performances as the “Tambourine Man” became legendary. He had a way of bringing energy and excitement wherever he went. He loved being around the students, his community, the music, and the camaraderie and the band loved having him there. Paul never seemed to need much in return. He simply wanted to be included. He wanted to help. He wanted to be part of something he cared about. That was Paul. His kindness, humor, gentle spirit, and unmistakable smile made him someone people remembered. He had a wonderful ability to make people feel welcome, and he formed friendships that lasted for decades.

Paul’s passing leaves a tremendous hole in our community. But when we think of him, we don’t want to think only about the sadness of losing him. We want to think about the music. The laughter. The tambourine. The friendships.  As Louis Armstrong famously said, “Musicians don’t retire; they stop when there’s no more music in them.” We don’t think Paul’s music ever really stopped. It simply became part of the memories he left behind.

Paul Emard (1951–2026)

Paul Furlan. A Familiar Face in Woodland. We also remember Paul Furlan, who passed away on May 22, 2026, at the age of 74. For Summer House, Paul’s story goes all the way back to the beginning. In 1973, Paul became one of the six original residents of Summer House, when Tom and Pat Monley began what was then an experimental residential home for adults with disabilities. After several years in the group home, he moved into his own apartment and continued his connection with Summer House through our Community Living Program. And Paul absolutely loved his community of Woodland.

Paul was outgoing, friendly, and loved to talk. He was one of those people who seemed to know everyone and, more importantly, everyone seemed to know Paul. His family or his staff could take him out to a restaurant or shopping, and it wouldn’t be long before someone called out: “Hi, Paul!” That was Paul. He was a familiar face. A friend. A part of the neighborhood. For years, people around Woodland also knew him as the man riding his three-wheeler around town, collecting cans for his recycling business.

Paul was proud of his work. He was proud of his independence. And he was proud to be out there in his community doing what he loved. One of Paul’s favorite places was Raley’s. The employees knew him and treated him with incredible kindness. When Paul’s three-wheeler was stolen, the Raley’s employees actually came together and bought him a new one. It’s a beautiful story but in many ways, it feels very much like Paul. He had built relationships everywhere he went. Even when walking became more difficult, Paul continued making his trips to Raley’s with his walker. Saturday mornings often meant a trip to the store and, of course, a doughnut. Those little routines mattered. They were part of Paul’s life, his independence, and his connection to the community he loved.

What They Gave Us

Paul Emard and Paul Furlan were very different people. One was happiest surrounded by music, musicians, and his beloved Aggie Band. The other could be found riding around Woodland, collecting cans, stopping at Raley’s, and talking with just about anyone.

But there was something very important that they had in common. They were connected. They belonged to communities that knew them. They had people who looked forward to seeing them. They had places where they were welcomed. They had meaningful ways to contribute. And they each brought something special to the lives of the people around them. That is what we love about Summer House.

Our work is not simply about helping someone learn a skill or supporting someone in an apartment. It is about helping people build a life where they are known, valued, included, and connected.

Paul Furlan was part of that vision from the very beginning. Paul Emard showed us what it can look like to remain deeply connected to a community for more than five decades. Both Pauls remind us that a person’s impact isn’t always measured in big accomplishments. Sometimes it is measured in something much simpler: How many people smile when they hear your name? How many people notice when you’re not there? How many lives are a little brighter because you were part of them? By that measure, both Pauls lived very meaningful lives. Their names may have shared the same meaning, humble, but their personalities and stories were uniquely their own.

Paul Emard gave us music, laughter, friendship, and that unforgettable tambourine. Paul Furlan gave us stories, determination, independence, conversation, and a lifetime of being part of the Woodland community. And both gave Summer House something we will always treasure: the privilege of knowing them.

As we remember Paul Emard and Paul Furlan, we also celebrate the communities they helped create around themselves and the many people who loved them. We will miss seeing them. We will miss hearing their stories. We will miss their familiar presence. But most of all, we will be grateful. Grateful that they were here. Grateful that they were part of our story. And grateful that, for a time, we got to call them our Summer House family.

You will be missed, you will be remembered, and you will always have a place here at Summer House.