From Peter Bamberger

Arriving to the Technion as a young immigrant social scientist in the early 1990’s, I found the place rather intimidating. And rightfully so, as the Technion was in many ways one big school of applied mathematics. As a social scientist, I was a bit like a fish out of water.  But it didn’t take long before Aya came to the rescue. Aya was different from every other “quant” that I had ever met.  She was neither intimidating nor dismissive. What I studied was actually of interest to her, and she wanted to help me study it better. Moreover, she wanted me to understand what I was doing methodologically.

Aya had a magical way of teaching statistics.  It was painless. In fact, it was kinda fun. And most of all, it was readily comprehensible, even to those “quantitatively challenged” folks like me.  Throughout high school, I found every excuse to avoid anything quantitative.  I chose my college on the basis that I wouldn’t have to take a math course.  But after working on my first study with Aya, my fear was replaced with curiosity, which led to exploration, and eventually, perhaps a bit of mastery.

But Aya became far more than my statistics teacher and mentor. As she was with so many people, she became my adopted Mom, inviting me over to her place to sample her baking, and arranging a medical internship for my new immigrant wife in the pediatrics department at Bnai Zion Medical Center (which, 25 years later, is the department my wife still calls home).

Aya’s retirement and my departure from the Technion changed nothing.  We continued to work together. And my wife and I continued to enjoy our periodic evening get-togethers with her and Elisha. 

I’m going to miss those evening get-togethers, not to mention Aya’s delicious baking, the amazing stories of her childhood in Israel’s early years, and of course the opportunity to learn from her.  I always knew that Aya shaped my career, but only now that she’s gone am I realizing how much she actually shaped me.  I miss her dearly.

Peter Bamberger