Leslie and I were great friends during our college and post college years. The first thing I noticed about Les was his long frizzy shoulder length black hair, the second was his laugh. I was hooked. His interests then were eclectic: the Beats, Kerouac, Updike, the Beatles (he was a huge fan), Stravinsky, 60 Minutes (which he watched religiously), Woody Allen, Dr. Winter, Jerry Weinberger, Leon Miller, Charlie Patton, David Hume, Wittgenstein, Bertrand Russell, Springsteen, Charlie Parker, chicks, beer, and more beer.
Being with Leslie, you knew you were always one step away from an adventure. One fond memory: hopping into his black VW bug and driving from Lancaster to Philadelphia to see Allen Ginsberg perform at the Main Point. By this time Ginsberg was more performer than poet, but we loved every minute of the show. On the drive back back, with beer in tow, we shouted out lines from HOWL for all to hear: "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madmen, starving hysterical naked dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix..."
It was a glorious moment in time.
It was being with Les.
--Tom Korman
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
From one of Leslie's oldest friends...
I get up every morning and think that Leslie is gone, but I must go on teaching and helping people. Helping students think for themselves is so important and that is what your brother did so well for so many years. It is cold and rainy here today much like western PA. I long for one more day standing in the kitchen looking out the window listening to Mike and Becky [Leslie's parents] quibbling about nothing before Leslie and I headed out to get robbed at the Hickory Grille or Tara. And Mike would say"Those sons of bitches are going to rob you!" as the breezeway door shut behind us. Les would laugh and smile.
-BIllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll (Evans)
-BIllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll (Evans)
Sunday, December 14, 2008
An email found on Leslie's computer...
Dear Dr. Marenchin: I just wanted to take the time out to let you know how wonderful it is to have a teacher with your teaching style at UH. You make your class (ethics) so interesting, no wonder it's always full. I agree with all your philosophies and points of view and your laid back teaching style. We need more teachers like you at UH!
-- Shawn P.
-- Shawn P.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
From a former peer at Texas A&M...
Leslie and I were one year philosophy professors at Texas A&M in the late 80s. I remember that Leslie wrote a dissertation defending the view that universals exist, on their own, independent of all minds. I remember thinking at the time, who else would take on such a project? The idea that universals are real was hardly a popular idea in the humanities of that era, a period of post-structuralist Katrinas. Leslie did not believe in God. He did believe in Truth. Especially moral truth and meaning. Although he did not see the universe as designed, I believe he did see it as worthy of our wonder. The Leslie I knew always allowed that we might be mistaken in our beliefs. Any of us. He was bold and unapologetic, never dogmatic. So who knows, if Leslie was mistaken, and if Someone awaits us after this life, then maybe Leslie lives on in that someone's love. His memory lives on in ours.
Thanks,
Dan Montaldi
Thanks,
Dan Montaldi
Friday, December 12, 2008
From an old friend from home...
I've known Leslie and his sister Renee for over 30 years, they are like family..when they came home to Pennsylvania to visit we got together for dinner and a few drinks and many many long deep discussions about life, religion, the universe, etc. Leslie always had a big smile on his face...he loved traveling to Italy...the news of his accidental death really shocked me and others...although I didn't see him more than once or twice a year since he moved, I will miss him and our conversations...he was very intelligent...hang in there Renee he is now with your parents and sister.....love, Andy
From an old friend...
I remember best two traits about our friend Leslie – his longing for love and his devotion to the search for truth.
The reminiscences of friends and students on this blog amply demonstrate the love that he gave and received. He loved, and was loved by, his sister Renee and his good friends, Freebird, Bruce, and Fernando.
I remember that he adopted a stray cat some years ago. The veterinarian told him that the cat had a feline disease that would be eventually fatal. Leslie chose to keep the cat as long as he could, to give the animal a few months of comfort and happiness, even though he knew that he would grow to love it and that therefore loss and sorrow were inevitable.
But, it is his search for the truth that I think most about now. I saw Leslie on Thanksgiving and when I asked him how his classes were going, he said, “Oh, my classes are wonderful. I love teaching.” Sharing his passion for inquiry with his students brightened his life.
Leslie had been in a philosophy reading group with two friends for over 20 years, and appropriately, it was those friends who found his body when they came to his home for a meeting of the group.
Leslie has now proven the final theorem, unraveled the last syllogism. Whatever is after death, he has encountered, and the encounter left on his face an expression of great peace.
His friends have different beliefs about the afterlife. Some of us may believe that the atoms of his fragile mortal body are even now dispersing into the sweet oblivion of the cosmic dust. Some may believe that his soul is taking its seat on the vast Ferris wheel of reincarnation. While we are left behind like children in line at the county fair, he is carried away from us toward the lights of a new city. Some may believe that he has been welcomed by a loving and forgiving God. Perhaps he has solved there the true nature of universals and can ask Kant a few pointed questions in that inimitable wry voice that we remember so well.
Regardless of these beliefs, we can all take comfort in the indisputable fact that the effects of Leslie’s life continue in the hearts and minds of those gathered here today. He leaves behind friends and a sister whose hearts carry the imprint of his humor and his intelligence and his sadness. His students, whether they become businesspeople or teachers or engineers, carry forward his commitment to the search for truth and the ability to reason critically about the important issues in their lives.
-- Donna
The reminiscences of friends and students on this blog amply demonstrate the love that he gave and received. He loved, and was loved by, his sister Renee and his good friends, Freebird, Bruce, and Fernando.
I remember that he adopted a stray cat some years ago. The veterinarian told him that the cat had a feline disease that would be eventually fatal. Leslie chose to keep the cat as long as he could, to give the animal a few months of comfort and happiness, even though he knew that he would grow to love it and that therefore loss and sorrow were inevitable.
But, it is his search for the truth that I think most about now. I saw Leslie on Thanksgiving and when I asked him how his classes were going, he said, “Oh, my classes are wonderful. I love teaching.” Sharing his passion for inquiry with his students brightened his life.
Leslie had been in a philosophy reading group with two friends for over 20 years, and appropriately, it was those friends who found his body when they came to his home for a meeting of the group.
Leslie has now proven the final theorem, unraveled the last syllogism. Whatever is after death, he has encountered, and the encounter left on his face an expression of great peace.
His friends have different beliefs about the afterlife. Some of us may believe that the atoms of his fragile mortal body are even now dispersing into the sweet oblivion of the cosmic dust. Some may believe that his soul is taking its seat on the vast Ferris wheel of reincarnation. While we are left behind like children in line at the county fair, he is carried away from us toward the lights of a new city. Some may believe that he has been welcomed by a loving and forgiving God. Perhaps he has solved there the true nature of universals and can ask Kant a few pointed questions in that inimitable wry voice that we remember so well.
Regardless of these beliefs, we can all take comfort in the indisputable fact that the effects of Leslie’s life continue in the hearts and minds of those gathered here today. He leaves behind friends and a sister whose hearts carry the imprint of his humor and his intelligence and his sadness. His students, whether they become businesspeople or teachers or engineers, carry forward his commitment to the search for truth and the ability to reason critically about the important issues in their lives.
-- Donna
From a friend in Iran...
I lived in Houston for 13 years, 1976-1989, and Les and I met in graduate school at Rice. We became good friends. I was always giving Les a hard time about whatever we were studying in philosophy. We were always arguing, sparring. I appreciated Les as an intellectual for his ability to connect philosophy with art and life. I appreciate him as a person for sticking by me through all the tumult of our lives during those years. The last time I saw Les was about ten years ago, when I came to Houston to give a lecture at the local Islamic center. I felt as if we had been away from one another only for a week instead of the years that had gone by. The conversations seemed to pick up right where we had left off. When I decided to move to Iran, Les was very encouraging. With Les I felt that we had a real understanding between us that far transcended whatever differences in our opinions about problems and issues. More important than understanding, though, we were friends; and I will always remember him with affection. My condolences to all his friends and family.
-Hajj Muhammad (Gary) Legenhausen
-Hajj Muhammad (Gary) Legenhausen
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
From a college friend...
Renee, So sorry to hear about Les. He was one of my Millersville roomates and a renewed correspondent and friend. I remember you from a visit that Les and Tom Korman and I made to your place in New York City in '74 or '75. You took us to dinner at Max's Plum or Apple or whatever it was called and remember you ordered a steamed California artichoke. I didn't know anything about artichokes. I'm not sure Les did. I'm sure he made some sardonic, amusing comment about your artichoke because I remember everyone laughing about it. He must have said something. Les always got the laughter going. He was one of the great comic commentators that I knew. I sure am going to miss him. My heartfelt sympathy goes out to you. -- Jim Henry
From the service...
Isn’t it a beautiful day for a memorial? I know that sounds a bit odd to say, but Leslie was the last person in the world who would want us to be sitting here acting all somber and morose. If he were here right now he’d be cracking jokes and making us all laugh.
I was thinking about him on the drive over here just now because I used to see him as I drove in to school. One semester we were on the same schedule and would often see one another while driving across Alabama to UH from Montrose. I would see him in his cute little red Mazda Miata convertible and I would honk and wave and he would honk and wave and flash me that big smile of his. I’ll miss seeing that.
Leslie wasn’t a particularly religious person, but I hope he would not mind if I read this quote from one of the Stoics who are perhaps the most religious of all philosophers—they have the religion of the worship of reason. This is from Epictetus’ Manual:
If you desire philosophy,
prepare now as one being ridiculed,
as you are being mocked by many,
who are saying, "Suddenly a philosopher has returned to us"
and "From where has this high brow come to us?"
But you should not have a high brow;
but hold thus to what is appearing best to you,
as to that place assigned by God;
and remember that if you remain in the same,
these ridiculing you before will later be amazed,
but if you are overcome by them,
you will receive ridicule twice.
Leslie was first and foremost a philosopher. I first met him back in the late 1990’s when we team-taught together in the Honors College course “The Human Situation.” One semester he was lecturing on Plato’s Phaedrus, which has a famous metaphor of the soul as a charioteer with one good horse and one bad horse. There is one passage that’s rather obscure that tells how in the beginning all the souls were trying to follow the chariots of the gods up to the rim of the universe to view the heavens, but the humans with bad horses—desires—could not get up to the top. Leslie made this all quite clear by telling the students to picture the universe as a big football stadium. The gods had great horses that could fly up to the top and look out over the rim but many of the humans had bad horses and were stuck in the fray down below on the field and couldn’t get to the top. He would stand on his tippy-toes and demonstrate the position of the gods looking out at the rest of the universe. It was quite funny and made the book come alive.
I always envied Leslie’s classroom presence. I consider myself a pretty good teacher, but Leslie was just a born teacher who was utterly natural and at home in the classroom. He was so casual and relaxed, always totally himself. He was at ease even lecturing on some of the hardest material like Kant’s Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals and explaining the categorical imperative. He could make things very clear and he had an easy conversational style. He would pause often and ask the students, “Do you get it? Anyone have any questions? What do you think?”
We were lucky to be able to have Leslie as an adjunct professor in the Philosophy Department for the last ten years. I know at first he taught too many classes for too little money, but we were able to improve that situation in recent years, with Dean Antel’s help, to get him more money and fewer courses, along with TA’s so he didn’t have to do all the grading. The students really loved Leslie and he got very good teaching evaluations. I looked over his most recent evaluations in preparing for this talk, and found a number of very positive remarks (keep in mind these were done two weeks ago, before his accidental death):
Very smart and a good communicator.
Funny and very interesting, cares about his class.
Did a great job at not rejecting someone’s thoughts.
He truly cares about what he teaches and if we understand it or not. He’s my favorite teacher.
My most favorite class so far in college, a very clear and funny professor.
Students were able to express their opinions.
I liked this class a lot. I made this subject my minor from this class.
Wonderful personality and knowledgeable.
Funny, related material to everyday life, easy to understand.
Actually made me think rather than just give facts.
Very respectful of students.
I know his students will really miss him. If you could have seen their faces when they learned about his death, you would have seen how much he meant to them. They showed shock, horror, and great sadness and dismay. The students really considered him a friend.
It would not be fitting to speak of Leslie without mentioning his sense of humor, which could at times be outrageous and rather off-color. I have one anecdote to tell about that. Once he was at a party at my house for some famous philosopher (I think it was Bob Brandom). Those who know me know that I am a cat person and I have too many cats. One of my cats was being very cute and rolling around on the floor showing off her fat spotted belly. I was patting her and talking sweet-talk to her like people do with cats, “Nice kitty! Sweet pussy-cat!”, etc. Leslie stood there and kind of grunted and said, “Eh, doesn’t it just make you want to get laid?” I said “WHAT?!” –but I’ve never quite been able to look at my cats in the same way since.
Perhaps this might suggest that Leslie was somehow inappropriate or lacking in decorum. On this point, and as my final remark, I’d like to comment on the definition of decorum from Cicero’s book On Duties. This is another text Leslie lectured on in “The Human Situation” course. It was above and beyond the call of duty for him to do that because another professor was scheduled to teach it but he had quit just a week before classes began. No one really wanted to teach Cicero, who is a bit dense and dry, but Leslie volunteered and did a good job. When Cicero discusses decorum or the virtue of seemliness, he describes it in this way:
Each person should hold on to what is his in so far as it is not vicious but peculiar to him, so that the seemliness we are seeking might more easily be maintained. For we must act in such a way that we attempt nothing contrary to universal nature; but, while conserving that, let us follow our own nature… If anything at all is seemly, nothing, surely, is more so than an evenness both of one’s whole life and one’s individual actions. You cannot preserve that if you copy someone else’s nature and ignore your own. (On Duties, selections from 110-111)
By this definition, Leslie Marenchin definitely manifested the virtue of decorum or seemliness, because he was always precisely just himself, and no one else. He was truly his own person.
Cynthia Freeland
Professor and Chair, UH Philosophy Department
I was thinking about him on the drive over here just now because I used to see him as I drove in to school. One semester we were on the same schedule and would often see one another while driving across Alabama to UH from Montrose. I would see him in his cute little red Mazda Miata convertible and I would honk and wave and he would honk and wave and flash me that big smile of his. I’ll miss seeing that.
Leslie wasn’t a particularly religious person, but I hope he would not mind if I read this quote from one of the Stoics who are perhaps the most religious of all philosophers—they have the religion of the worship of reason. This is from Epictetus’ Manual:
If you desire philosophy,
prepare now as one being ridiculed,
as you are being mocked by many,
who are saying, "Suddenly a philosopher has returned to us"
and "From where has this high brow come to us?"
But you should not have a high brow;
but hold thus to what is appearing best to you,
as to that place assigned by God;
and remember that if you remain in the same,
these ridiculing you before will later be amazed,
but if you are overcome by them,
you will receive ridicule twice.
Leslie was first and foremost a philosopher. I first met him back in the late 1990’s when we team-taught together in the Honors College course “The Human Situation.” One semester he was lecturing on Plato’s Phaedrus, which has a famous metaphor of the soul as a charioteer with one good horse and one bad horse. There is one passage that’s rather obscure that tells how in the beginning all the souls were trying to follow the chariots of the gods up to the rim of the universe to view the heavens, but the humans with bad horses—desires—could not get up to the top. Leslie made this all quite clear by telling the students to picture the universe as a big football stadium. The gods had great horses that could fly up to the top and look out over the rim but many of the humans had bad horses and were stuck in the fray down below on the field and couldn’t get to the top. He would stand on his tippy-toes and demonstrate the position of the gods looking out at the rest of the universe. It was quite funny and made the book come alive.
I always envied Leslie’s classroom presence. I consider myself a pretty good teacher, but Leslie was just a born teacher who was utterly natural and at home in the classroom. He was so casual and relaxed, always totally himself. He was at ease even lecturing on some of the hardest material like Kant’s Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals and explaining the categorical imperative. He could make things very clear and he had an easy conversational style. He would pause often and ask the students, “Do you get it? Anyone have any questions? What do you think?”
We were lucky to be able to have Leslie as an adjunct professor in the Philosophy Department for the last ten years. I know at first he taught too many classes for too little money, but we were able to improve that situation in recent years, with Dean Antel’s help, to get him more money and fewer courses, along with TA’s so he didn’t have to do all the grading. The students really loved Leslie and he got very good teaching evaluations. I looked over his most recent evaluations in preparing for this talk, and found a number of very positive remarks (keep in mind these were done two weeks ago, before his accidental death):
Very smart and a good communicator.
Funny and very interesting, cares about his class.
Did a great job at not rejecting someone’s thoughts.
He truly cares about what he teaches and if we understand it or not. He’s my favorite teacher.
My most favorite class so far in college, a very clear and funny professor.
Students were able to express their opinions.
I liked this class a lot. I made this subject my minor from this class.
Wonderful personality and knowledgeable.
Funny, related material to everyday life, easy to understand.
Actually made me think rather than just give facts.
Very respectful of students.
I know his students will really miss him. If you could have seen their faces when they learned about his death, you would have seen how much he meant to them. They showed shock, horror, and great sadness and dismay. The students really considered him a friend.
It would not be fitting to speak of Leslie without mentioning his sense of humor, which could at times be outrageous and rather off-color. I have one anecdote to tell about that. Once he was at a party at my house for some famous philosopher (I think it was Bob Brandom). Those who know me know that I am a cat person and I have too many cats. One of my cats was being very cute and rolling around on the floor showing off her fat spotted belly. I was patting her and talking sweet-talk to her like people do with cats, “Nice kitty! Sweet pussy-cat!”, etc. Leslie stood there and kind of grunted and said, “Eh, doesn’t it just make you want to get laid?” I said “WHAT?!” –but I’ve never quite been able to look at my cats in the same way since.
Perhaps this might suggest that Leslie was somehow inappropriate or lacking in decorum. On this point, and as my final remark, I’d like to comment on the definition of decorum from Cicero’s book On Duties. This is another text Leslie lectured on in “The Human Situation” course. It was above and beyond the call of duty for him to do that because another professor was scheduled to teach it but he had quit just a week before classes began. No one really wanted to teach Cicero, who is a bit dense and dry, but Leslie volunteered and did a good job. When Cicero discusses decorum or the virtue of seemliness, he describes it in this way:
Each person should hold on to what is his in so far as it is not vicious but peculiar to him, so that the seemliness we are seeking might more easily be maintained. For we must act in such a way that we attempt nothing contrary to universal nature; but, while conserving that, let us follow our own nature… If anything at all is seemly, nothing, surely, is more so than an evenness both of one’s whole life and one’s individual actions. You cannot preserve that if you copy someone else’s nature and ignore your own. (On Duties, selections from 110-111)
By this definition, Leslie Marenchin definitely manifested the virtue of decorum or seemliness, because he was always precisely just himself, and no one else. He was truly his own person.
Cynthia Freeland
Professor and Chair, UH Philosophy Department
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
From an old friend...
I was a transplanted Catholic school kid venturing into public high school; no friends, no experience, no clue. In my sophomore year a mutual friend, Bill Evans, invited me to sit at his table in the cafeteria. My life would never be the same; it was here that I got to know Leslie. Though our high school career I was accepted into the group, most of whom were lifelong buddies; while Les was recuperating from back surgery we became family. We shared a Croatian heritage, Lord knows we drank enough of my grandma's homemade brandy on those inumerable crazy weekends that always started out in Leslie's dining room. Leslie' s humor was a natural, his dad Mitchell kept us rolling every time we were there .
The good times we shared are immeasurable, from sitting in his bedroom listening to all the great music we all brought to share, to walking drunk through his neighborhood almost every Friday and Saturday night; Sunday afternoon baseball at Westinghouse Park. Climbing down Wintergreen Gorge in Erie, PA (not to mention "sneaking" to Erie one Saturday afternoon to get some weed). All the while laughing and disrespecting just about everything and everyone we encountered.
I lost contact with Leslie and everyone else from those days as I moved away and set about raising my family; not that hardly a day went by without thinking about those days. The news of his passing was devastating, but I am a better and more fulfilled individual for having had Leslie in my life.
-- Joe Gagliardi
The good times we shared are immeasurable, from sitting in his bedroom listening to all the great music we all brought to share, to walking drunk through his neighborhood almost every Friday and Saturday night; Sunday afternoon baseball at Westinghouse Park. Climbing down Wintergreen Gorge in Erie, PA (not to mention "sneaking" to Erie one Saturday afternoon to get some weed). All the while laughing and disrespecting just about everything and everyone we encountered.
I lost contact with Leslie and everyone else from those days as I moved away and set about raising my family; not that hardly a day went by without thinking about those days. The news of his passing was devastating, but I am a better and more fulfilled individual for having had Leslie in my life.
-- Joe Gagliardi
From a friend...
I've only been to a few memorial services in my time and to even fewer receptions afterwards. I've never heard as many people get up and speak about someone before. And never with as much humor, either. The memorial service was truly touching... and the setting was beautiful.
I don't ever want to be old and infirm; but the only way around it is to die young. The most tragic thing about Leslie's accident is the void that is left behind for you and Freebird and his friends; and of course the years of new experiences he will now miss. The most consoling thing about it, though, is that he was at a happy time in his life; and this happened with no sense of foreboding or dread. Way better than a slow, sad death.
--Barbara Grove
I don't ever want to be old and infirm; but the only way around it is to die young. The most tragic thing about Leslie's accident is the void that is left behind for you and Freebird and his friends; and of course the years of new experiences he will now miss. The most consoling thing about it, though, is that he was at a happy time in his life; and this happened with no sense of foreboding or dread. Way better than a slow, sad death.
--Barbara Grove
From the memorial service (pardon the length)...
Leslie Michael Marenchin was born in Sharon, Pennsylvania, on June 8, 1954, and he grew up in nearby Hermitage. To help visualize his world, Leslie always referred me to the Deer Hunter, which was filmed in those parts.
His mother, Becky, was a school administrator, and his father, Michael, a mechanic, welder, and a jack of all trades…this was a guy who built his own house. Leslie had two older sisters, Shelly and Renee.
Tragedy struck early for Leslie’s family: Shelly, the oldest, died in adolescence. This explains in large part why Leslie and Renee remained so close for the rest of their lives. His mother died in 1996, his father only 2 years ago.
Leslie attended the Hickory School system in Hermitage, and graduated from high school in 1972. His friends described him at the time as the “skinniest kid” they ever knew. And of course, the funniest.
He attended Millersville State University in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, from which he graduated in 1976 with a bachelor’s in political science/English literature.
Eventually, Leslie followed his sister, Renee, to Houston, where he enrolled in the graduate philosophy program at Rice. He completed his Master’s Degree in 1983, and his Ph.D. in 1988.
While at Rice he taught English as a Second Language, and after graduating, began to teach philosophy at Texas A&M in 1989. After a few years there, he returned to Houston to teach at University of Houston Clear Lake, Texas Southern University, Rice University, University of Saint Thomas, Kingwood College, University of Houston Downtown, and University of Houston Central Campus, where he continued to teach until he left us. Over the course of his academic career, he taught basic philosophy courses, graduate courses in metaphysics and the philosophy of education, and courses in the history of western civilization. He also taught small groups outside of the university environment. Just folks who wanted to learn and talk about philosophy, and they’d meet in coffeeshops or in somebody’s house in West U. and talk about important ideas.
As a scholar, his area of expertise was Analytic Philosophy. And at the time of his death, he had developed a summer course in Europe, and was working on proposals for developing a textbook for a course in Business Ethics based in part on his work on Immanuel Kant.
Leslie was a man of wild and complex contradictions:
He could be profound and silly in the same sentence.
He could hold forth in one breath on metaphysics and tell a dirty joke in the next.
He was fiercely logical and insanely irrational (he played the lotto for god’s sake, religiously).
He was brutally honest but always gracious, and had manners that would have made his mama proud.
He loathed pretension and pomposity. And enjoyed playing the fool, letting the air out of windbags, hypocrites and the self-righteous.
And he had the PUREST of hearts.
Above all, Leslie was FUNNY.
But to say that he merely told JOKES would fail to give him the credit due.
His was a non-stop monologue of hilarity, filtering the world through his unique sensibility, and leveling everyone within earshot with his take.
He wasn’t just funny. He was gut-busting, tear-inducing, pants peeing funny.
And no, he wasn’t always politically correct. And sometimes he stepped over the line, in and out of the classroom.
But his humor was never mean or petty. It was, if anything, CELEBRATORY, as if to say, “Can you fucking believe people? I want more!”
His sense of humor played a big part in his teaching, of course.
Leslie was a born teacher—it was all he ever wanted to do. And it was in the classroom that he was most at home.
If you’ve had a chance to visit the blog we created in his memory, you’ve learned that he was wildly popular with his students: in fact, he was consistently ranked by student evaluations to be among the top ten percent of professors at UH. He loved nothing more than challenging kids, and making them think and consider the possibility that the view of the world they showed up to class with might not be the one they should leave with. And most of them appreciated the challenge.
Other than the classroom, the place he was most at home were social gatherings. He was in his element at parties, where he’d glide across the room from group to group, spreading his silliness.
Leslie was a stranger to no one. The world over. I was always amazed at the ease with which he made friends, instantly and everywhere. I remember, after a day and a half in Istanbul with Leslie, Renee and I lost him one afternoon. As you know, if you’ve been to Turkey, everyone and their mother try to sell you a carpet on the street. So Renee and I set off to find him, asking each of the carpet hawkers we passed if they had seen Leslie. (We identified Leslie by miming his silver afro with our hands.) To a person, they would smile and say, yes, yes, and point the way: everyone knew Leslie. Of course, it helped that he had bummed cigarettes from every single one of them.
Leslie was a great travel companion for that reason. And I was fortunate to take many great trips with Leslie. Most memorably, a couple of years ago, I stood with Leslie on top of the Acropolis, which was so important to him and the focus of so much of what he taught. And I got to share his glee—like that of a little boy—when he saw the death mask of Agamemnon…and the statue of Herakles that he first saw in his first Latin textbook.
I met Leslie in graduate school, and I didn’t know what to think of him at first. I was in the English graduate program at Rice, he was in philosophy. The literature students would meet at Willy’s Pub every Friday evening to drink beer, commiserate, talk literature, philosophy, and try to figure out what the hell they were doing. Leslie, from over in philosophy, started dropping in. He was the only non-literature student there. I couldn’t figure out why: He admitted later that it was because there were many more WOMEN studying English than philosophy. Leslie and I agreed, years later, that we probably learned as much from these Friday night adventures—especially from our mentor professor Bill Piper—as we learned in any classroom at Rice.
Something clicked back then, and Leslie and I soon became friends which we remained ever since. I’ve gotten to know Leslie pretty well over 3 decades. Some things you might now know about him:
--He was good at fixing things, building things. Learned from his father, who EACH WEEK would take apart his lawnmower to soak the parts in gasoline…his father’s philosophy was: if you weren’t willing to go to such ends to take care of things, you shouldn’t own anything.
This was also the man who insisted that Leslie each week sweep their gravel driveway with a broom.
--Leslie was obsessively neat. So much so that one of his girl friends called him obsessive compulsive. He told her that he’d prefer to refer to himself as “fastidious.”.
--Who knows the significance of this for Leslie, but for him there was a rightful place for EVERY OBJECT in his world. Or he’d obsessively find one. You’d sit down to dinner with him and he’d, without thinking about it, arrange the silverware and salt shaker just so. To play with him, while he was distracted, we’d move the fork slightly out of place, and without missing a beat and without even noticing what he was doing, he’d slide it back into place. Where it was SUPPOSED to be.
--I want to dispel a myth about Leslie. His wardrobe, contrary to what his students may have thought, did not exclusively consist of a blazer, starched white shirts, and blue jeans. In the 1990s, he shook things up by acquiring 2 pairs of linen shorts, which he then sported around the world…which calls to mind an image forever burned in my head: I joined Leslie at a conference in Hawaii where he was giving a paper, and he wouldn’t go near the water—in fact, Leslie didn’t learn to swim until he was an adult, and he never considered himself a strong swimmer. So while I swam, he sat on a towel, in his linen shorts and starched white shirt on the sand, smoking a cigarette, as contented as the BUDDHA just to be there.
--You should also know that Leslie spent 6 months of his adolescence in a body cast that stretched down to his knees, immobilizing him. He suffered from scoliosis, and lived with a steel rod in his back for the rest of his life.
But it wasn’t all bad: Not able to move, Leslie retreated into the world of books for the first time in his life. It was a determinative period for him. His best friend at the time, Bill Evans, who would ride his bike over and sit with Leslie every afternoon, told me that Leslie began reading Kurt Vonnegut, Albert Camus, Franz Kafka, and even Bertrand Russell. And turning his friends onto these writers. This was the genesis of his intellectual career.
Bill also said that at this time—I love this image of Leslie—they’d routinely stay up as late as they could, and “when the air was right,” fix an AM radio with a wire coat hanger and listen to the crackling excitement of a someone called Bruce Springsteen blasting his music all the way from New Jersey.
A few other tidbits:
--In 8th grade, he and several of his best friends concocted a plan to taunt junior high school classmates by breaking into school and leaving pranks in their lockers. This was sophisticated stuff: for example, they wanted to leave a box of oatmeal in one girl’s locker because they thought she looked like a horse. They pulled it off: slipping out of Leslie’s house at 2 in the morning, dressed in all black, running the 5 miles to school, entering a skylight and—like some grand heist movie—lowering themselves by rope into the kitchen. Some of them were called into the principal’s office the next day…but as his friend Bill told me, none of them “cracked” under the pressure and they got off.
--Leslie studied ballroom dancing. To meet women, of course.
--He swam naked at Walden Pond.
--And he wrote a screenplay called Cathedral of Ash (with me), which I think he is pleased has not seen the light of day.
We found taped to his computer sticky notes with the following quotes, which I assume he regarded as principles to live by. They confirm for me that Leslie sought truth at any cost, believed living an ethical life was essential, and, most importantly, that one had to strive always to participate in all that life had to offer and to engage others at any cost.
A quote from the Roman lyric poet Horace: Sapere Aude! Dare to know!
An unattributed quote: Things are never what they seem.
A quote from the Roman philosopher Lucretius: Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas. “Fortunate he, who was able to learn the causes of things.”
A quote from the Roman philosopher Seneca: Colamus humanitatem. “Cherish humanity.”
From philosopher Karl Popper, “Minimize avoidable suffering. “
From Lee Kwon Yew: “Those who opt out, they suffer.”
From the Gospel of St. Thomas:
“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.
If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”
And one he quoted to me often, and which I knew he held dear: From E.M. Forster: “ONLY CONNECT.”
There’s no way to contain this man in a single eulogy, so I’ll give up trying. But in closing, I want to read something an old friend wrote me about Leslie:
“Where where has my madman gone? He was the smartest and the dumbest. God, he could jauntily walk right into it. And that was what I so loved about him—watching him coming toward me, drink in hand, ready to have an evening of to and fro, wry and ribald, his head full of big ideas, his heart full of conflict. The combination was potent, though he had a way of sneaking up on you as if he was just some guy, some regular guy out for laughs. He was anything but a regular guy. He was the most complicated guy I’ve ever known. I am devastated at his loss. I can’t imagine what you must feel except that it must be breathtaking to lose his side of the commentary. Your partner in crime.
She finally asks, “Oh what would he have made of such a fate?”
Surely, somehow, he would have found a way to make us laugh.
--Keith "Freebird" Johnson
His mother, Becky, was a school administrator, and his father, Michael, a mechanic, welder, and a jack of all trades…this was a guy who built his own house. Leslie had two older sisters, Shelly and Renee.
Tragedy struck early for Leslie’s family: Shelly, the oldest, died in adolescence. This explains in large part why Leslie and Renee remained so close for the rest of their lives. His mother died in 1996, his father only 2 years ago.
Leslie attended the Hickory School system in Hermitage, and graduated from high school in 1972. His friends described him at the time as the “skinniest kid” they ever knew. And of course, the funniest.
He attended Millersville State University in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, from which he graduated in 1976 with a bachelor’s in political science/English literature.
Eventually, Leslie followed his sister, Renee, to Houston, where he enrolled in the graduate philosophy program at Rice. He completed his Master’s Degree in 1983, and his Ph.D. in 1988.
While at Rice he taught English as a Second Language, and after graduating, began to teach philosophy at Texas A&M in 1989. After a few years there, he returned to Houston to teach at University of Houston Clear Lake, Texas Southern University, Rice University, University of Saint Thomas, Kingwood College, University of Houston Downtown, and University of Houston Central Campus, where he continued to teach until he left us. Over the course of his academic career, he taught basic philosophy courses, graduate courses in metaphysics and the philosophy of education, and courses in the history of western civilization. He also taught small groups outside of the university environment. Just folks who wanted to learn and talk about philosophy, and they’d meet in coffeeshops or in somebody’s house in West U. and talk about important ideas.
As a scholar, his area of expertise was Analytic Philosophy. And at the time of his death, he had developed a summer course in Europe, and was working on proposals for developing a textbook for a course in Business Ethics based in part on his work on Immanuel Kant.
Leslie was a man of wild and complex contradictions:
He could be profound and silly in the same sentence.
He could hold forth in one breath on metaphysics and tell a dirty joke in the next.
He was fiercely logical and insanely irrational (he played the lotto for god’s sake, religiously).
He was brutally honest but always gracious, and had manners that would have made his mama proud.
He loathed pretension and pomposity. And enjoyed playing the fool, letting the air out of windbags, hypocrites and the self-righteous.
And he had the PUREST of hearts.
Above all, Leslie was FUNNY.
But to say that he merely told JOKES would fail to give him the credit due.
His was a non-stop monologue of hilarity, filtering the world through his unique sensibility, and leveling everyone within earshot with his take.
He wasn’t just funny. He was gut-busting, tear-inducing, pants peeing funny.
And no, he wasn’t always politically correct. And sometimes he stepped over the line, in and out of the classroom.
But his humor was never mean or petty. It was, if anything, CELEBRATORY, as if to say, “Can you fucking believe people? I want more!”
His sense of humor played a big part in his teaching, of course.
Leslie was a born teacher—it was all he ever wanted to do. And it was in the classroom that he was most at home.
If you’ve had a chance to visit the blog we created in his memory, you’ve learned that he was wildly popular with his students: in fact, he was consistently ranked by student evaluations to be among the top ten percent of professors at UH. He loved nothing more than challenging kids, and making them think and consider the possibility that the view of the world they showed up to class with might not be the one they should leave with. And most of them appreciated the challenge.
Other than the classroom, the place he was most at home were social gatherings. He was in his element at parties, where he’d glide across the room from group to group, spreading his silliness.
Leslie was a stranger to no one. The world over. I was always amazed at the ease with which he made friends, instantly and everywhere. I remember, after a day and a half in Istanbul with Leslie, Renee and I lost him one afternoon. As you know, if you’ve been to Turkey, everyone and their mother try to sell you a carpet on the street. So Renee and I set off to find him, asking each of the carpet hawkers we passed if they had seen Leslie. (We identified Leslie by miming his silver afro with our hands.) To a person, they would smile and say, yes, yes, and point the way: everyone knew Leslie. Of course, it helped that he had bummed cigarettes from every single one of them.
Leslie was a great travel companion for that reason. And I was fortunate to take many great trips with Leslie. Most memorably, a couple of years ago, I stood with Leslie on top of the Acropolis, which was so important to him and the focus of so much of what he taught. And I got to share his glee—like that of a little boy—when he saw the death mask of Agamemnon…and the statue of Herakles that he first saw in his first Latin textbook.
I met Leslie in graduate school, and I didn’t know what to think of him at first. I was in the English graduate program at Rice, he was in philosophy. The literature students would meet at Willy’s Pub every Friday evening to drink beer, commiserate, talk literature, philosophy, and try to figure out what the hell they were doing. Leslie, from over in philosophy, started dropping in. He was the only non-literature student there. I couldn’t figure out why: He admitted later that it was because there were many more WOMEN studying English than philosophy. Leslie and I agreed, years later, that we probably learned as much from these Friday night adventures—especially from our mentor professor Bill Piper—as we learned in any classroom at Rice.
Something clicked back then, and Leslie and I soon became friends which we remained ever since. I’ve gotten to know Leslie pretty well over 3 decades. Some things you might now know about him:
--He was good at fixing things, building things. Learned from his father, who EACH WEEK would take apart his lawnmower to soak the parts in gasoline…his father’s philosophy was: if you weren’t willing to go to such ends to take care of things, you shouldn’t own anything.
This was also the man who insisted that Leslie each week sweep their gravel driveway with a broom.
--Leslie was obsessively neat. So much so that one of his girl friends called him obsessive compulsive. He told her that he’d prefer to refer to himself as “fastidious.”.
--Who knows the significance of this for Leslie, but for him there was a rightful place for EVERY OBJECT in his world. Or he’d obsessively find one. You’d sit down to dinner with him and he’d, without thinking about it, arrange the silverware and salt shaker just so. To play with him, while he was distracted, we’d move the fork slightly out of place, and without missing a beat and without even noticing what he was doing, he’d slide it back into place. Where it was SUPPOSED to be.
--I want to dispel a myth about Leslie. His wardrobe, contrary to what his students may have thought, did not exclusively consist of a blazer, starched white shirts, and blue jeans. In the 1990s, he shook things up by acquiring 2 pairs of linen shorts, which he then sported around the world…which calls to mind an image forever burned in my head: I joined Leslie at a conference in Hawaii where he was giving a paper, and he wouldn’t go near the water—in fact, Leslie didn’t learn to swim until he was an adult, and he never considered himself a strong swimmer. So while I swam, he sat on a towel, in his linen shorts and starched white shirt on the sand, smoking a cigarette, as contented as the BUDDHA just to be there.
--You should also know that Leslie spent 6 months of his adolescence in a body cast that stretched down to his knees, immobilizing him. He suffered from scoliosis, and lived with a steel rod in his back for the rest of his life.
But it wasn’t all bad: Not able to move, Leslie retreated into the world of books for the first time in his life. It was a determinative period for him. His best friend at the time, Bill Evans, who would ride his bike over and sit with Leslie every afternoon, told me that Leslie began reading Kurt Vonnegut, Albert Camus, Franz Kafka, and even Bertrand Russell. And turning his friends onto these writers. This was the genesis of his intellectual career.
Bill also said that at this time—I love this image of Leslie—they’d routinely stay up as late as they could, and “when the air was right,” fix an AM radio with a wire coat hanger and listen to the crackling excitement of a someone called Bruce Springsteen blasting his music all the way from New Jersey.
A few other tidbits:
--In 8th grade, he and several of his best friends concocted a plan to taunt junior high school classmates by breaking into school and leaving pranks in their lockers. This was sophisticated stuff: for example, they wanted to leave a box of oatmeal in one girl’s locker because they thought she looked like a horse. They pulled it off: slipping out of Leslie’s house at 2 in the morning, dressed in all black, running the 5 miles to school, entering a skylight and—like some grand heist movie—lowering themselves by rope into the kitchen. Some of them were called into the principal’s office the next day…but as his friend Bill told me, none of them “cracked” under the pressure and they got off.
--Leslie studied ballroom dancing. To meet women, of course.
--He swam naked at Walden Pond.
--And he wrote a screenplay called Cathedral of Ash (with me), which I think he is pleased has not seen the light of day.
We found taped to his computer sticky notes with the following quotes, which I assume he regarded as principles to live by. They confirm for me that Leslie sought truth at any cost, believed living an ethical life was essential, and, most importantly, that one had to strive always to participate in all that life had to offer and to engage others at any cost.
A quote from the Roman lyric poet Horace: Sapere Aude! Dare to know!
An unattributed quote: Things are never what they seem.
A quote from the Roman philosopher Lucretius: Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas. “Fortunate he, who was able to learn the causes of things.”
A quote from the Roman philosopher Seneca: Colamus humanitatem. “Cherish humanity.”
From philosopher Karl Popper, “Minimize avoidable suffering. “
From Lee Kwon Yew: “Those who opt out, they suffer.”
From the Gospel of St. Thomas:
“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.
If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”
And one he quoted to me often, and which I knew he held dear: From E.M. Forster: “ONLY CONNECT.”
There’s no way to contain this man in a single eulogy, so I’ll give up trying. But in closing, I want to read something an old friend wrote me about Leslie:
“Where where has my madman gone? He was the smartest and the dumbest. God, he could jauntily walk right into it. And that was what I so loved about him—watching him coming toward me, drink in hand, ready to have an evening of to and fro, wry and ribald, his head full of big ideas, his heart full of conflict. The combination was potent, though he had a way of sneaking up on you as if he was just some guy, some regular guy out for laughs. He was anything but a regular guy. He was the most complicated guy I’ve ever known. I am devastated at his loss. I can’t imagine what you must feel except that it must be breathtaking to lose his side of the commentary. Your partner in crime.
She finally asks, “Oh what would he have made of such a fate?”
Surely, somehow, he would have found a way to make us laugh.
--Keith "Freebird" Johnson
From the memorial service...
It is a week since Leslie died and his disappearance has grown heavier for me - precisely because it is a week.
For it was week after week, for 25 years, first with the Magnolia Circle and then with another Reading group, that Leslie and I would come together to read and discuss Philosophy.
Leslie was a magnificent teacher of Philosophy - there are generations of students who are lucky to have had him as their professor. I know they are very grateful.
But allow me to say just a word about Leslie - the man he was, not the professor. For it is this man that I will miss dearly, this is the man that I encountered week after week: a man who was a philosopher and a sensualist. Not a usual combination!
As a philosopher he was a person with an unshakeable earthly, realism and common sense. Leslie had no taste for flights of fancy, mythologies, religious consolatory systems or mystical claims. The world for Leslie was this material world and no other. Week after week, but with increasing sophistication he would defend his Realism vis-à-vis Bruce Leutwyler’s radically different ontology. We all learned so much from these exchanges.
And quite consistently it was in this world that Leslie conducted his life. He loved this life – he was no ascetic philosopher!- he loved the sensuality of life, the pleasurable, the agreeable, the amiable life. And he loved it above all taken with sense of humor and a great sense of the absurd. Yes, he was all this, and he was also an admirable, thoughtful and consistent atheist.
Sensuality, intelligence and humor – in my book that’s not bad at all!
To loose a friend with such qualities is no small matter, but for Leslie to be cut so short from life - 54 years! - this is truly tragic.
I so much would like to have Leslie alive again so that HE may get more out of life and I could enjoy – surely with renewed appreciation – his being.
--Fernando Casas
For it was week after week, for 25 years, first with the Magnolia Circle and then with another Reading group, that Leslie and I would come together to read and discuss Philosophy.
Leslie was a magnificent teacher of Philosophy - there are generations of students who are lucky to have had him as their professor. I know they are very grateful.
But allow me to say just a word about Leslie - the man he was, not the professor. For it is this man that I will miss dearly, this is the man that I encountered week after week: a man who was a philosopher and a sensualist. Not a usual combination!
As a philosopher he was a person with an unshakeable earthly, realism and common sense. Leslie had no taste for flights of fancy, mythologies, religious consolatory systems or mystical claims. The world for Leslie was this material world and no other. Week after week, but with increasing sophistication he would defend his Realism vis-à-vis Bruce Leutwyler’s radically different ontology. We all learned so much from these exchanges.
And quite consistently it was in this world that Leslie conducted his life. He loved this life – he was no ascetic philosopher!- he loved the sensuality of life, the pleasurable, the agreeable, the amiable life. And he loved it above all taken with sense of humor and a great sense of the absurd. Yes, he was all this, and he was also an admirable, thoughtful and consistent atheist.
Sensuality, intelligence and humor – in my book that’s not bad at all!
To loose a friend with such qualities is no small matter, but for Leslie to be cut so short from life - 54 years! - this is truly tragic.
I so much would like to have Leslie alive again so that HE may get more out of life and I could enjoy – surely with renewed appreciation – his being.
--Fernando Casas
From the service: a meditation...
I am sorry I couldn’t be here with you today, but I am at a retreat in Assisi, Italy, meditating on the dreamlike circumstances that happened only last Monday, circumstances that, in consequence, have brought you here today.
Leslie’s life had consequence for all of us here, and I am sure others will do an exemplary job memorializing his life. I would like to memorialize his death by meditating on it, since for me, and I think for Fernando, and maybe for you, it may have lasting consequence.
As we all know, dreams can be understood as meaningful, and for thousands of years, shamans, including Freud, have turned to them to understand circumstance. In my experience, waking reality is also a form of dream, and I cannot help seeing events as meaningful, even when I do not fully comprehend their meaning.
The events of last Monday were one of the most powerful waking dreams I have witnessed, and I want to relate those events to you as part of a continuing meditation on death. Why me you may ask? Because it is I who found the lifeless body of Leslie!
So join me if you will in this guided mediation on death. Close your eyes if you will, let your mind be stilled, let your third eye open…
It was an ordinary Monday, yet a beautiful fall day in Houston, with the sun shining bright. As you may or may not know, I am part of a reading group that was formed a few years back. I have been part of two reading groups, and in these two Leslie was also a part. The first was called the Magnolia Circle, which after a long and wonderful life dissolved. The second, started a few years after the Magnolia Circle ended and dedicated to Continental philosophy, didn’t have a name.
As I arrived to continue our reading of Heidegger’s Being and Time, I saw Fernando in his pickup truck, waiting. I looked over to see if Leslie’s Honda was in the carport, the sign that Leslie was back from teaching philosophy at the University of Houston. It wasn’t. So I got out and Fernando got out, and we walked over to the wicker bench Leslie had placed right outside his front door. We sat down on the bench to wait for Leslie. The sun was shining directly onto us. It was so bright. We started talking about what everyone is talking about these days, the state of the economy, was it a depression, what would a 21st century depression look like, and suchlike. It was so bright, and Fernando got up, so that the sun wouldn’t shine directly into his eyes. So bright... He stood up and leaned against Leslie’s front door, and we continued chatting? Time passed and we were oblivious until Fernando restless asked, “Where’s Leslie?” Fernando straightened up from leaning on the door and walked out… out to the driveway. I followed him. I called Leslie on my cell phone, but there was no answer. This was getting a bit strange. Fernando was slowly moving to his truck. Leslie didn’t look like he was coming. I looked up at the second floor garage apartment, up as if trying to see into the apartment, to feel Leslie’s presence. I said, “maybe he’s here, I’ll go check.”
I walked to the front door and tried it. It opened. “Great,” I thought, “That’s a good sign. He wouldn’t leave his front door open if he wasn’t here.” I opened the door, and it opened halfway, but there was resistance, something wouldn’t let it open fully. I squeezed by, and looked down to see what was blocking the door.
… see something big on the floor at the foot of the stairs … a tumbled form… a body lying on its back…
Time began to break up into stuttered images. Somebody! A thought formed slowly in the back of my mind, “Is that Leslie?” My vision stuttered to the tumbled form’s face, and I couldn’t recognize it… who is it?” And then a dreamlike shift in the syncopated temporality and the face I saw… it was Leslie’s, and yet it wasn’t his. My mind couldn’t figure it out. Then time broke up further into still pictures: a face, a rigid arm askew, a trickle of tacky blood on the floor beneath the head, a blue cast to the skin.
“Fernando. Fernando, something bad has happened to Leslie, Fernando…” Fernando squeezed into the stairwell, “Fernando, I think … I think Leslie’s dead.” Fernando beside me, not seen by me, but felt to be there. He said urgently, “Call 911, call 911!”
The door… I had opened that door, and walked in, and for me an old reality collapsed and in the stuttering of time, a new one formed… the light that had animated Leslie’s face, that light was gone, and this new reality seemed and still seems to me, just a bit darker.
Feel for a moment the dreamlike quality of this. For 10 minutes or so, as we chat, a doorway separates Fernando and me from what is on the other side, a threshold to a completely unsuspected reality. We chat together as if a world, a reality, could not be shattered by opening a door we stand not 2 feet from, not 2 inches from. And then we walk past the door and cross a threshold.
Leslie, perhaps, also found himself on one side of a door, on a threshold he never quite imagined. And then he passed through that door that, passing through, shattered reality into vast spaciousness…
Please gently return from your meditation, open your eyes if you will…
For 25 years I had the privilege to question the nature of reality with Leslie Marenchin. My path, my investigation into the nature of reality, is replete with his questioning, skepticism, and yet openness of mind. So perhaps it shouldn’t be a complete surprise, although to me it will always remain so, that Leslie went first, tumbling down the rabbit hole, to pass through the doorway, across the threshold, into the we know not what…
but we will.
- Bruce Leutwyler
Leslie’s life had consequence for all of us here, and I am sure others will do an exemplary job memorializing his life. I would like to memorialize his death by meditating on it, since for me, and I think for Fernando, and maybe for you, it may have lasting consequence.
As we all know, dreams can be understood as meaningful, and for thousands of years, shamans, including Freud, have turned to them to understand circumstance. In my experience, waking reality is also a form of dream, and I cannot help seeing events as meaningful, even when I do not fully comprehend their meaning.
The events of last Monday were one of the most powerful waking dreams I have witnessed, and I want to relate those events to you as part of a continuing meditation on death. Why me you may ask? Because it is I who found the lifeless body of Leslie!
So join me if you will in this guided mediation on death. Close your eyes if you will, let your mind be stilled, let your third eye open…
It was an ordinary Monday, yet a beautiful fall day in Houston, with the sun shining bright. As you may or may not know, I am part of a reading group that was formed a few years back. I have been part of two reading groups, and in these two Leslie was also a part. The first was called the Magnolia Circle, which after a long and wonderful life dissolved. The second, started a few years after the Magnolia Circle ended and dedicated to Continental philosophy, didn’t have a name.
As I arrived to continue our reading of Heidegger’s Being and Time, I saw Fernando in his pickup truck, waiting. I looked over to see if Leslie’s Honda was in the carport, the sign that Leslie was back from teaching philosophy at the University of Houston. It wasn’t. So I got out and Fernando got out, and we walked over to the wicker bench Leslie had placed right outside his front door. We sat down on the bench to wait for Leslie. The sun was shining directly onto us. It was so bright. We started talking about what everyone is talking about these days, the state of the economy, was it a depression, what would a 21st century depression look like, and suchlike. It was so bright, and Fernando got up, so that the sun wouldn’t shine directly into his eyes. So bright... He stood up and leaned against Leslie’s front door, and we continued chatting? Time passed and we were oblivious until Fernando restless asked, “Where’s Leslie?” Fernando straightened up from leaning on the door and walked out… out to the driveway. I followed him. I called Leslie on my cell phone, but there was no answer. This was getting a bit strange. Fernando was slowly moving to his truck. Leslie didn’t look like he was coming. I looked up at the second floor garage apartment, up as if trying to see into the apartment, to feel Leslie’s presence. I said, “maybe he’s here, I’ll go check.”
I walked to the front door and tried it. It opened. “Great,” I thought, “That’s a good sign. He wouldn’t leave his front door open if he wasn’t here.” I opened the door, and it opened halfway, but there was resistance, something wouldn’t let it open fully. I squeezed by, and looked down to see what was blocking the door.
… see something big on the floor at the foot of the stairs … a tumbled form… a body lying on its back…
Time began to break up into stuttered images. Somebody! A thought formed slowly in the back of my mind, “Is that Leslie?” My vision stuttered to the tumbled form’s face, and I couldn’t recognize it… who is it?” And then a dreamlike shift in the syncopated temporality and the face I saw… it was Leslie’s, and yet it wasn’t his. My mind couldn’t figure it out. Then time broke up further into still pictures: a face, a rigid arm askew, a trickle of tacky blood on the floor beneath the head, a blue cast to the skin.
“Fernando. Fernando, something bad has happened to Leslie, Fernando…” Fernando squeezed into the stairwell, “Fernando, I think … I think Leslie’s dead.” Fernando beside me, not seen by me, but felt to be there. He said urgently, “Call 911, call 911!”
The door… I had opened that door, and walked in, and for me an old reality collapsed and in the stuttering of time, a new one formed… the light that had animated Leslie’s face, that light was gone, and this new reality seemed and still seems to me, just a bit darker.
Feel for a moment the dreamlike quality of this. For 10 minutes or so, as we chat, a doorway separates Fernando and me from what is on the other side, a threshold to a completely unsuspected reality. We chat together as if a world, a reality, could not be shattered by opening a door we stand not 2 feet from, not 2 inches from. And then we walk past the door and cross a threshold.
Leslie, perhaps, also found himself on one side of a door, on a threshold he never quite imagined. And then he passed through that door that, passing through, shattered reality into vast spaciousness…
Please gently return from your meditation, open your eyes if you will…
For 25 years I had the privilege to question the nature of reality with Leslie Marenchin. My path, my investigation into the nature of reality, is replete with his questioning, skepticism, and yet openness of mind. So perhaps it shouldn’t be a complete surprise, although to me it will always remain so, that Leslie went first, tumbling down the rabbit hole, to pass through the doorway, across the threshold, into the we know not what…
but we will.
- Bruce Leutwyler
Monday, December 8, 2008
An irreverent eulogy from the memorial service...
Rimbaud’s poetry would not be complete without his salacious poems Conneries. Picasso’s oeuvre cannot exclude the erotic drawings that reflect so much of his life. Similarly, a eulogy to my friend Leslie Marenchin would not be complete without mentioning his humor, irreverence, and blunt directness. Fate spared me from seeing Leslie’s face at his last moment. It would have disappointed me to see anything but laughter in it. Making him laugh always brought me great pleasure because his laughter was so frank and joyous, and because he himself had a great sense of humor. One of the last photographs I took of him catches him in open laughter. It was at a Thanksgiving dinner at Fernando Casas’s house in Magnolia just a couple of weeks ago. It is probably the last picture taken of him.
It turns out that I have taken the last pictures of a couple of my friends and now, those still alive don’t want me to photograph them anymore. Leslie would have laughed at the insinuation that perhaps my camera is cursed. After all, we are philosophers and we do not believe in omens, superstition, or other-wordly existence. Moreover, everybody’s last picture was taken by somebody.
Last Thanskgiving I brought to Magnolia a slide presentation of photographs I have taken at Fernando’s house since 1982. Oddly, enough although I did take some of Leslie I could not find them among my negatives and he was not in the presentation. Leslie did not seem to mind. Rather, upon seeing a picture of Fernando’s sister Becky, as a younger sexier woman, Leslie told her bluntly, “Damn, you were so sexy, I should have fucked you then.” That was the Leslie that we all knew: the Pennsylvania son of a car mechanic and a school teacher who decided to dedicate himself to the understanding of the ideas that make us think and act one way or another.
Leslie and I went to graduate school at Rice University. He had gotten there one before I did, but we attended several seminars together. At the time all philosophy graduate students were forced to take a seminar with a certain professor whose vision of philosophy was rather shallow. In a faculty party, he went up the department chairman to ask why we had to take this professor’s seminar. After hearing an evasive and unconvincing answer, Leslie said to him, “Oh come on, you know he sucks.”
So it was that that son of Pennsylvania and this son of Lima and New York became friends. It was I who brought Leslie to the philosophy reading group that began at Fernando Casas’ apartment and at my apartment on Bartlett street. Leslie came on board after Fernando and Steve Adams built their house in Magnolia in 1982 and the reading group moved there. I baptized it with the name “The Magnolia Circle” –alluding to the Vienna Circle, the group of philosophers that congregated around Moritz Schlick in the 1920s in Vienna. The irony in the naming did not hinge on our depth of philosophical thinking but rather on the uneven comparison between Magnolia and Vienna. As to the circle part, we were always too few to even suggest a circle, we were a quadrilateral at best and when we were five we would not have called ourselves “The Magnolia Pentagon.” Fernando Casas, our philosopher/painter, made a notable painting titled “The Magnolia Circle” that excludes me (I believe I was too busy playing soccer) but includes a depiction of Leslie.
If I remember correctly, when Leslie joined the group we were reading Sir Karl Popper’s Objective Knowledge, or maybe it was “Gödel, Escher, Bach.” I am not sure. Before I introduced Leslie to Fernando, I described the latter as one of the most sincere and generous persons I have ever met, but I warned Leslie, that he did not have much of a sense of humor. So they met and we read and discussed, after which we usually had wine, cheese and freshly-baked bread that Steve would prepare for us. One of the first jokes that Leslie told in Fernando’s presence was “Why do dogs lick their balls?” Of course the punch-line is “Because they can.” Everybody laughed except Fernando who kept asking for explanations and Leslie laughed even more because he realized my warning had been on target. That is how our friendship was cemented: through meals, jokes, readings, discussions, and arguments about some of the great books of philosophy. Leslie’s manner of philosophizing was always piercing, somewhat skeptical and always well-informed. When he was not informed about something, he never feigned knowledge he did not have.
One of my favorite anecdotes about Leslie occurred during a very formal New Year’s Eve party that Becky Soria and Bruce Leutwyler hosted at their home. The guests were spread out through the dining and living rooms and speaking rather quietly and demurely. Some may have even been wearing tuxedos. It was just too quiet for Leslie, rather like a… dare I say it? Funeral. So Leslie walked into the room and yelled out so everyone could hear, “OK everybody drop your pants and show your dicks.”
Socrates, the father of philosophy, died by his own hand, Bertrand Russell died of influenza, Ludwig Wittgenstein died of prostate cancer, our Leslie died as a result of falling down the stairs. It was an accident. In philosophy accidental properties are those that something does not need to have to be what it is. Philosophers have generally not focused on accidental properties, but on essential properties. Yet life is full of accidents that substantially affect it one way or another. Our lives today have been affected by an accident. It was an accident that I met Leslie and that I introduced him to many of the people who today are eulogizing him. We could argue healthily about whether Leslie’s humor was essential or accidental to who he was. If we judge by the statements of his students in the blog that honors him, his humor and his often irreverent language was constitutive of who Leslie was. What was not accidental was that he took his students on a journey across the ideas that affect our lives and ways of thinking: causality, mind, justice, nation, truth, knowledge, God, freedom, beauty, life, etc. These ideas are not mere descriptions; some of them are philosophical or deserve philosophical scrutiny. They have a history and they fall inside a web of connections that deeply affect us. The life that Leslie led ended with an accident, but it was essentially a philosophical life. - Fernando Castro
A student who spoke at the memorial...
My name is Matthew Arenas and I was the last speaker at Dr. Marenchin's memorial service. I was not prepared to speak at his service; his sister Renee asked me to speak as I walked in the door and was introduced to her. There was sooo much more that I could have said about Dr. Marenchin, but unfortunately my mind was consistantly drawing blanks (my nerves and my grief got the better of me).
He was the kind of man who when you were late to class, he would make you feel as if you had been there the whole time and would include you in the conversation ASAP as if you were there early. He was the kind of man who would play devils advocate just to test you to see if you really would stand up to him. He allowed me to become more staunch in my opinions as he would test me regularly. He would discount all arguments that were put fourth in class and than in the same breath say "(insert philosophers name) is fuckin nuts! I really dont believe this shit, but I am trying to get you all to think about it." I should have went with him to Europe, but I was not able to go because of financial issues. He is a man that will be missed and a character that could NEVER be replaced.
I raise a pint of Guiness in your honor, Professor Marenchin.
Regards,
Matt Arenas
"Give me a lever long enough, and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world" XIII
He was the kind of man who when you were late to class, he would make you feel as if you had been there the whole time and would include you in the conversation ASAP as if you were there early. He was the kind of man who would play devils advocate just to test you to see if you really would stand up to him. He allowed me to become more staunch in my opinions as he would test me regularly. He would discount all arguments that were put fourth in class and than in the same breath say "(insert philosophers name) is fuckin nuts! I really dont believe this shit, but I am trying to get you all to think about it." I should have went with him to Europe, but I was not able to go because of financial issues. He is a man that will be missed and a character that could NEVER be replaced.
I raise a pint of Guiness in your honor, Professor Marenchin.
Regards,
Matt Arenas
"Give me a lever long enough, and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world" XIII
The memorial service...
For those who weren't there, you should know that the memorial service held for Leslie on Sunday, December 7, at the glass-walled chapel on the University of Houston campus was well-attended, and featured tributes by Dr. William Monroe, Executive Associate Dean of the Honors College at the University of Houston; Dr. John Antell, Dean of the UH College of Liberal Arts & Social Sciences; Dr. Cynthia Freeland, Chair of the UH Philosophy Department; Keith "Freebird" Johnson; Dr. Fernando Casas, professor and artist (whose study of Leslie and painting of Leslie's beloved Magnolia Circle reading group were prominently featured at the service)(and reading a meditation by Bruce Leutwyler); Steve Adams; Fernando Castro; Tanya Lunstroth (reading a tribute from one of Leslie's adult study groups, The Friends of Plato); professor Ed Aimen; Josh Ellery; Dr. Thad Logan of Rice University; Blake Gilson, a student of Leslie's who had accompanied Leslie on his first summer course abroad; and Matt Arenas, a student. I will be posting the various tributes as they become available.
From the memorial service...
One of the things I love best about Leslie is he’d be the first to make fun of all the nicey-nice things we tend to say about the deceased at funerals. He’d say something like, “No, fuck, life is full of pain, suffering, and absurdity, and then you DIE!” Then he’d burst out laughing.
I got to know Leslie in the early 1980’s and saw him regularly for the next 15 years. I was living with Fernando, and the philosophy reading groups usually met at the house we built in Magnolia. As many of you know, I was not an actual member of the group, not a colleague, don’t know much about Leslie as a teacher and only a little about him as a philosopher, which I picked up mainly by osmosis, by listening to a lot of high-powered intellectual discussions in the background. And having many great conversations with the group members over bread and cheese after the readings finished. Actually, I do know something about his philosophical views, since he paid me to type his doctoral dissertation. One of the many interesting things about the brilliant Dr. Marenchin is that he was computer illiterate until very very recently. I moved to the west coast in 1995, but I’ve tried to keep in touch with Leslie, probably not as well as I should. Still, I consider him one of my best and oldest friends.
Right now we’re all trying to absorb the fact that Leslie died unexpectedly, and way too young. So for the moment we tend to let the extreme sadness of this event marginalize all the happy memories we shared with him. Which I think is a mistake.
20 years from now (if I’m still alive!), what will I remember about Leslie? Will I remember that he was unlucky in love? Will I remember that he died too young? Will I remember that he had his share of disappointments and unhappiness? Maybe, but what I hope what I’ll remember is his crazy raucous laughter, his lightening-quick wit, his filthy, demented, Rabelaisian humor. He could be uproarious. And fun to be around! If he was your friend he could get away, most of the time, with calling you all sorts of insulting names, and you didn’t mind; you’d just laugh.
Leslie was part of our yearly Thanksgiving celebrations, and some years, after we’d all eaten and drunk way too much, Leslie would get on a roll and start cracking his jokes, and soon I’d be literally weeping with laughter.....
Those are some of the best memories of my entire life, and Leslie was a big part of them.
He had probably more than his share of bitterness and tragedy. What I think kept him going was his sense of humor. But to describe what Leslie had as a “sense of humor” is like saying that the Grand Canyon at sunrise is “really pretty”. To him laughter was an Extreme Sport, although I’m sure he would crack up at the idea of himself as any kind of Extreme Sportsman.
Freebird has set up a great blog (professormarenchin.blogspot.com) where there are a lot of insightful comments. I was reading some of them this morning, and the one that pretty much sums it up for me is from an old friend of his in Pennsylvania: “I can't tell you how many times I have about peed my pants from Leslie making me laugh. He was a master at the art of humor.”
As an Extreme Sportsman of Laughter, he would often exceed the limits of acceptability. He was also master of the faux pas. He could make comments in jest that were cutting, rude, and hurtful. I think most of his best and oldest friends have been the butt of his jokes at one time or another. But he rarely said things with true malice, and was diligent and sincere in his apologies. I think he sorely regretted his uncanny ability to put his foot in his mouth on many occasions, and that he could’ve filled a notebook with things he wished he hadn’t said. He was at heart a kind, empathetic, and caring man, and in the end that’s why his friends stayed his friends.
During the first couple of years I knew him, when I’d formed an image of Leslie as a cool, hang-loose guy, a bon vivant with an easy laugh, I had an experience that changed this image somewhat. Once we were at his apartment for some occasion. On the way to the bathroom, you had to pass through his bedroom past a chest of drawers. In retrospect I tell myself that I noticed this handsome piece of furniture and merely want to test how the drawers worked. Actually I was probably just snooping. I pulled out the top drawer half way. I froze in shock and amazement. Arrayed perfectly in flawless rows were his socks, each pair folded identically and exquisitely. They were even arranged by color. Although I know there’s nothing particularly wrong with being well-organized, I couldn’t help but thinking, oh, man, this guy is way more fucked up than I imagined! I silently closed the drawer and withdrew into the bathroom, where I contemplated this revelation of the inner workings of Leslie’s soul.
The last time I saw Leslie was this past summer. He was visiting Portland with a new woman friend. I met them at their fancy boutique hotel in downtown Portland. He was well dressed, looked healthy, and seemed radiantly happy with his new relationship. His life seemed on a good track. We went for drinks and dinner and had a great time. Much laughter. He wasn’t drinking much. When we parted he gave me a hug, and probably called me an asshole for not coming back to Houston more often.
That’s the last time I saw him, and I’ll remember him as a happy man.
-Steve Adams
I got to know Leslie in the early 1980’s and saw him regularly for the next 15 years. I was living with Fernando, and the philosophy reading groups usually met at the house we built in Magnolia. As many of you know, I was not an actual member of the group, not a colleague, don’t know much about Leslie as a teacher and only a little about him as a philosopher, which I picked up mainly by osmosis, by listening to a lot of high-powered intellectual discussions in the background. And having many great conversations with the group members over bread and cheese after the readings finished. Actually, I do know something about his philosophical views, since he paid me to type his doctoral dissertation. One of the many interesting things about the brilliant Dr. Marenchin is that he was computer illiterate until very very recently. I moved to the west coast in 1995, but I’ve tried to keep in touch with Leslie, probably not as well as I should. Still, I consider him one of my best and oldest friends.
Right now we’re all trying to absorb the fact that Leslie died unexpectedly, and way too young. So for the moment we tend to let the extreme sadness of this event marginalize all the happy memories we shared with him. Which I think is a mistake.
20 years from now (if I’m still alive!), what will I remember about Leslie? Will I remember that he was unlucky in love? Will I remember that he died too young? Will I remember that he had his share of disappointments and unhappiness? Maybe, but what I hope what I’ll remember is his crazy raucous laughter, his lightening-quick wit, his filthy, demented, Rabelaisian humor. He could be uproarious. And fun to be around! If he was your friend he could get away, most of the time, with calling you all sorts of insulting names, and you didn’t mind; you’d just laugh.
Leslie was part of our yearly Thanksgiving celebrations, and some years, after we’d all eaten and drunk way too much, Leslie would get on a roll and start cracking his jokes, and soon I’d be literally weeping with laughter.....
Those are some of the best memories of my entire life, and Leslie was a big part of them.
He had probably more than his share of bitterness and tragedy. What I think kept him going was his sense of humor. But to describe what Leslie had as a “sense of humor” is like saying that the Grand Canyon at sunrise is “really pretty”. To him laughter was an Extreme Sport, although I’m sure he would crack up at the idea of himself as any kind of Extreme Sportsman.
Freebird has set up a great blog (professormarenchin.blogspot.com) where there are a lot of insightful comments. I was reading some of them this morning, and the one that pretty much sums it up for me is from an old friend of his in Pennsylvania: “I can't tell you how many times I have about peed my pants from Leslie making me laugh. He was a master at the art of humor.”
As an Extreme Sportsman of Laughter, he would often exceed the limits of acceptability. He was also master of the faux pas. He could make comments in jest that were cutting, rude, and hurtful. I think most of his best and oldest friends have been the butt of his jokes at one time or another. But he rarely said things with true malice, and was diligent and sincere in his apologies. I think he sorely regretted his uncanny ability to put his foot in his mouth on many occasions, and that he could’ve filled a notebook with things he wished he hadn’t said. He was at heart a kind, empathetic, and caring man, and in the end that’s why his friends stayed his friends.
During the first couple of years I knew him, when I’d formed an image of Leslie as a cool, hang-loose guy, a bon vivant with an easy laugh, I had an experience that changed this image somewhat. Once we were at his apartment for some occasion. On the way to the bathroom, you had to pass through his bedroom past a chest of drawers. In retrospect I tell myself that I noticed this handsome piece of furniture and merely want to test how the drawers worked. Actually I was probably just snooping. I pulled out the top drawer half way. I froze in shock and amazement. Arrayed perfectly in flawless rows were his socks, each pair folded identically and exquisitely. They were even arranged by color. Although I know there’s nothing particularly wrong with being well-organized, I couldn’t help but thinking, oh, man, this guy is way more fucked up than I imagined! I silently closed the drawer and withdrew into the bathroom, where I contemplated this revelation of the inner workings of Leslie’s soul.
The last time I saw Leslie was this past summer. He was visiting Portland with a new woman friend. I met them at their fancy boutique hotel in downtown Portland. He was well dressed, looked healthy, and seemed radiantly happy with his new relationship. His life seemed on a good track. We went for drinks and dinner and had a great time. Much laughter. He wasn’t drinking much. When we parted he gave me a hug, and probably called me an asshole for not coming back to Houston more often.
That’s the last time I saw him, and I’ll remember him as a happy man.
-Steve Adams
From a student who traveled to Europe with Leslie...
Dr. Marenchin was an outstanding professor and friend. I was privileged to take classes from such an intelligent and kind man. I am grateful for the time I had with him.
Bellow is a link to a photo gallery of Dr. Marenchin's first and only Study Abroad Trip to Europe. He led six highly motivated students around Europe from England to France to Germany. We studied political philosophy by day and relaxed drinking wine in the streets by night. The trip was outstanding. It was the best month of my life by far. I will never forget the time I spent with him. I ask the program be continued in his name.
http://blakegilson.com/political_philosophy/
If you have any question about the pictures or would like full resolution versions of particular pictures please email me at blakegil @ gmail.com (remove spaces).
-Blake Gilson
Bellow is a link to a photo gallery of Dr. Marenchin's first and only Study Abroad Trip to Europe. He led six highly motivated students around Europe from England to France to Germany. We studied political philosophy by day and relaxed drinking wine in the streets by night. The trip was outstanding. It was the best month of my life by far. I will never forget the time I spent with him. I ask the program be continued in his name.
http://blakegilson.com/political_philosophy/
If you have any question about the pictures or would like full resolution versions of particular pictures please email me at blakegil @ gmail.com (remove spaces).
-Blake Gilson
From an old friend from home...
I got to know Leslie when he was in the hospital recuperating from back surgery and consequently had to wear a back brace and was bed bound that whole summer....we had a mutual friend, Pam Shearer, and she would ask me to drive the half hour drive up to Greenville Hospital to see Les'.
I had never met anyone like him....he was gentle yet very direct and dry at the same time. We had a great time visiting him all summer....I'd like to think that we made the whole process a little less tedious for him. He had a lot of friends that supported him and would have many visitors squeezed into his little bedroom on S. Crescent...we would talk and laugh the time away.
I will always remember Leslie's VW bug and his long curly hair...he was always a dear friend. You knew when you would see him that you were gonna laugh. I was recently his realtor as well as his friend....I would send him a cordial email about the troubled housing market etc. and he would write back for me to "just sell the ******* house Nettie!" that was Les... and I'll miss him so much. Love to Renee and family. Rest In Peace my dear friend.
Nettie.
I had never met anyone like him....he was gentle yet very direct and dry at the same time. We had a great time visiting him all summer....I'd like to think that we made the whole process a little less tedious for him. He had a lot of friends that supported him and would have many visitors squeezed into his little bedroom on S. Crescent...we would talk and laugh the time away.
I will always remember Leslie's VW bug and his long curly hair...he was always a dear friend. You knew when you would see him that you were gonna laugh. I was recently his realtor as well as his friend....I would send him a cordial email about the troubled housing market etc. and he would write back for me to "just sell the ******* house Nettie!" that was Les... and I'll miss him so much. Love to Renee and family. Rest In Peace my dear friend.
Nettie.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
An old friend from home...
I have known Les since we were young children, growing up in the same neighborhood. I spent many nights sitting in Les' house holding insane discussions with his dad about pissed off everyone should be with Goldie Meier in Israel and how the hell can you feed all the people in Houston. I was at his house when he was laid up with his back operation, listening to Yes albums and making fun of everything we could think of. Les and I spent our first summer out of high school in Switzerland working and traveling. When he would come home from Houston, we would go out to drink to excess and laugh until we hurt. Les told me the last time I was with him that he thought I was the funniest guy he knew but I explained to him that it was being with him and feeding off each other that made our conversations hilarious. We have all lost a good friend and I lost half of my muse. I wll miss him deeply. Rest in peace dear friend. Bob Hoagland
Friend from college...
I met Les at Millersville State College, which we called Hootersville, in 1973. We became friends. We were two skinny, wiseass high school outcasts. We liked beer. We were not lady's men. Les at the time had hair down to the small of his back, though by the second semester he'd cut about half that off. With our other close friends we did all the usual crazy college hijinks. Later, for a year, we were roommates in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. It was a good time to take a six pack and drive into the country with Les. Hiking Trout Run, Kelly Run, going to the Pinnacle overlooking the Susquehanna River, sitting on pine needles and talking . . . so many memories. I've enjoyed reading yours so much. The one's from his students, the one's from old friends. I visited Les twice in Sharon. I heard his father once say, "Hitler had some good ideas." (He meant making the trains run on time, I think). Les said, "No. Hitler didn't have any good ideas!" And yes, Les would laugh in your face if he thought you were full of shit. He laughed in mine more than once, rightly so. We drove to Sharon in a snow storm once, in a white out. I drove Les's VW. We were smoked up. I couldn't see the road to save my life. I screamed, "I can't see the road! I can't see the road!" Les laughed hysterically. A truck went by at 90 miles an hour and we followed the tracks. I liked seeing where Les grew up. The mills, the little valley where the town used to be before it burned down. Les was good about introducing me to his friends. Good guys, all. Once I was in Sharon and Les had just taken me to see his family doctor (swollen gland in my groin). We left the doctor's and someone on the road motioned us to go ahead and make our left. We did so and were clobbered by a barge of a car sailing along in the empty adjacent lane (I later learned this was legal in Sharon). Our car was pushed and compressed and Les's head went in slow motion into the rear view mirror. Blood spouted from his forehead. We were both out of the car, Les leaning foreward, walking like Groucho Marx so as not to get blood on his shoes.
"Les, are you all right?" I yelled. He stopped and turned on me. "What do you mean am I all right!?! I'm bleeding!" The driver of the other car, a large black woman, began yelling, "I hope you die! I hope you die!" I was in shock. Les stopped in his tracks and said, "Lady! What are you saying? It was an accident!" She shut up. Les walked on, I scrambled after him. The world was spinning.
I hollered, "Les, where's the hospital?"
"There!" he pointed. We were next to the front doors, about ten paces from the wreck. In a few minutes the doctor we'd just visited was shaving Les's head and sewing him up. I had a few crazy adventures with Les. I want to tell them all. I want to hear all yours. It's like, if we keep talking about him and dont' stop then he's not really gone. I had to call a college buddy today and talk to him to talk some of the sorrow away. I have not seen or talked to Les in over thirty years. Doesn't seem to matter.
Steve Dodson
"Les, are you all right?" I yelled. He stopped and turned on me. "What do you mean am I all right!?! I'm bleeding!" The driver of the other car, a large black woman, began yelling, "I hope you die! I hope you die!" I was in shock. Les stopped in his tracks and said, "Lady! What are you saying? It was an accident!" She shut up. Les walked on, I scrambled after him. The world was spinning.
I hollered, "Les, where's the hospital?"
"There!" he pointed. We were next to the front doors, about ten paces from the wreck. In a few minutes the doctor we'd just visited was shaving Les's head and sewing him up. I had a few crazy adventures with Les. I want to tell them all. I want to hear all yours. It's like, if we keep talking about him and dont' stop then he's not really gone. I had to call a college buddy today and talk to him to talk some of the sorrow away. I have not seen or talked to Les in over thirty years. Doesn't seem to matter.
Steve Dodson
From an old Rice University friend...
Keith, when Thad told me the horrible news it just didn't sink in, it just couldn't be true, it was too much like something I could picture Leslie telling me about with that rueful way of speaking, and then the capstone last remark. I'm still waiting for his one line summation of such a fate. What has struck me is how many of my memories are of the particulars of Leslie's mannerisms--he was incredibly distinctive in his ways of being in the world. I can hear his voice. I can see his hands, his smile, his jaunty walk, his jeans and belt and coat. I don't know. It is as if he is too real to be gone. I can't believe it. I think of the two of you at la Griglia and the delight at seeing you two there. The jousting, the jostling, the laughing laughing laughing. Yes, Leslie and I fought, many times. But I was counting on fighting with him many more times. He was a worthy opponent. I never understood why we drove each other nuts, what made us act like teenagers in a snit with each other. Yes, we often rubbed each other the wrong way. But that is just it--we got under each others skin and that is real and human and what I counted on. Where where has my madman gone? He was the smartest and the dumbest. God, he could jauntily walk right into it. And that was what I so loved about him--watching him coming toward me, drink in hand, ready to have an evening of to and fro, wry and ribald, his head full of big ideas, his heart full of conflict. The combination was potent, though he had a way of sneaking up on you as if he was just some guy, some regular guy out for laughs. He was anything but a regular guy. He was the most
complicated man I've ever known. I am devastated at this loss. I can't imagine what you, Keith, must feel except that it must be breathtaking to lose his side of the commentary. Your partner in crime. Oh what would he make of such a fate?
Marsha Recknagel
complicated man I've ever known. I am devastated at this loss. I can't imagine what you, Keith, must feel except that it must be breathtaking to lose his side of the commentary. Your partner in crime. Oh what would he make of such a fate?
Marsha Recknagel
From an old friend from junior high
I’m thankful that I had a chance to catch up with Leslie at our last high school reunion. He said that since he was wrapping up his father’s estate; that he might never return to the Valley; and that our paths might never cross again. True that. The first time I went to his house when we were in junior high he introduced me to Zappa (Freak Out). An ironic twist from Doors/Cream/Hendrix that I was listening too. It had a lasting influence. This morning I am choosing to look beyond the senseless tragedy and imagine that with his well developed sense of irony that he would get a laugh at the method of his demise.
chrisfpaul/gmail
chrisfpaul/gmail
Friday, December 5, 2008
A Houston friend...
I am still in a state of shock over this tragedy. What a freak accident. I will always remember the evenings at The Wine Bucket or Grappino's when Leslie would accompany Renee. Leslie made us laugh and we definitely engaged in intriguing conversations. I am so at a loss for words...... My deepest sympathy to Renee and his family and I will keep you all in my prayers. Leslie may you Rest In Peace.
Donna Felts
Donna Felts
From an email on Leslie's computer...
You where the greatest professor I have ever had. You are smart, funny, caring, and radiate a love of life that left a mark on me. I will miss you so much. You will never be forgotten. You where a wonderful person. I cannot tell you now much you mean to me. You made me love philosophy. You will always have a place in my thoughts. The time we spend together I will never forget. Your Student and Friend, Blake Gilson
An old friend from home writes...
Leslie Marenchin: Rest In Hilarity.
I came of age in the back of a VW Bug with Leslie and an assorted cast of misfits. We would chip in for gas and ride "up-country" listening to The Bonzo Dog Band on 8-track. I think our shared sense of humor was the glue that held us all together, but it might have also been the beer, the music, the drugs, the quest for girls, I'm not sure right now.
Leslie was the skinniest person I'd ever seen. He was also already a master of the incredibly wacky shoot-beer-thru-your-nose offhand remark. He was fast. We used to stop by his house to pick him up and chat with his parents Mitchell & Becky. His dad would completely disassemble the lawn mower and clean it in a bucket of gasoline after each weekly cutting. He once told us that "people who don't regularly do this shouldn't be allowed to own anything". His dad also suggested to us one idle summer day that a good way to spend the afternoon would be to wash the car and then walk down to McDonalds for some burgers.
Leslie laughed right in his face.
He was a founding member of the Annual Banal Picnic, held at Mahaney Park near the Dam, where nothing much ever happened. But it was fun. We played pick-up baseball every Sunday at Westinghouse Park. We rented a cabin on Lake Chataqua in New York for a drunken weekend. Hilarity ensued, Leslie out in front by a mile. We went to The Wave, a local dive bar, The Office, a local dive bar, Terchila's, a local dive bar, and Bello's, a local dive restaurant that made the best shaved-steak sandwich with hot pepper rings you have ever tasted. After filling our bellies we would head to a local dive bar.
In time, some of us drifted away to places like Philadelphia, Florida, Colorado, but Leslie would make his yearly migration back to Sharon around the holidays and we would go to a local dive bar. I last saw him 2 or 3 years ago, before his father died. He emailed me last Thanksgiving that he was coming back for what he called his final trip home. I didn't' get to see him then.
My loss.
David Wachter
12.5.2008
More students write about lessons learned...
Dr. Marenchin was a great teacher he made ethics fun. He made us really think about what philosophy means. And if I learned anything at all this semester it is this, no matter how short your life may be if you live it correctly than your time spent here was great and he will always be remembered for that. I will never forget him in anything I do. You will be missed. Tim.
Remembering Professor Marenchin To the editor: I was saddened to hear about Professor Leslie Marenchin's tragic death on Monday. Marenchin was an outstanding professor and an amazing person. He had an amazing talent of breaking down and explaining complex philosophical positions in an easy-to-understand way. Anonymous.
Remembering Professor Marenchin To the editor: I was saddened to hear about Professor Leslie Marenchin's tragic death on Monday. Marenchin was an outstanding professor and an amazing person. He had an amazing talent of breaking down and explaining complex philosophical positions in an easy-to-understand way. Anonymous.
From againstthemodernworld.blogspot.com...
My most vivid memory of Marenchin was a joke he once told about his own future. Now, this is a man who had been working as a professional adjunct professor for years. It was not uncommon for him to be teaching eight (8!!!) simultaneous "intro to philosophy" courses (with no TAs) in a single semester. His every word seemed suffused with bitterness over lost opportunities (both academically and romantically).
But he had the capacity to laugh at himself, and this joke involved imagining himself in the future as old and wheelchair bound, ranting and raving to his intro students about Plato's cave. The image of him slumped in his bar chair, miming the posture of a decrepit and senile old man, desperately trying to control the joystick of his motorized wheelchair and mumbling "the cave, the cave" over and over again is indelibly etched on my brain.
Ironically, by all accounts from those who knew him more recently than I, his life was turning around and prospects for his future had changed for the better. Not the first, nor, I'll warrant in sadness, the last such untimely death I'll witness.
But he had the capacity to laugh at himself, and this joke involved imagining himself in the future as old and wheelchair bound, ranting and raving to his intro students about Plato's cave. The image of him slumped in his bar chair, miming the posture of a decrepit and senile old man, desperately trying to control the joystick of his motorized wheelchair and mumbling "the cave, the cave" over and over again is indelibly etched on my brain.
Ironically, by all accounts from those who knew him more recently than I, his life was turning around and prospects for his future had changed for the better. Not the first, nor, I'll warrant in sadness, the last such untimely death I'll witness.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
An old Texas friend writes from Galveston...
I am still stunned and shocked by the news of Leslie's death. I had known Leslie since about 1982, but didn't see him real often anymore since moving to Galveston. One weekend, when Freebird was in town, he and and Leslie drove to Galveston and came to the Tremont Hotel Lobby, where I played piano Sunday afternoons. After they had been there a short while, Leslie came to the piano and requested a song - "The Way You Look Tonight," by Jerome Kern. I was pleased and surprised to know he wanted to hear a tune from a 1930's Fred (Astaire) and Ginger (Rogers) movie; it happens to be one of my particular favorites. This rather insignificant event occurred probably about 4 or 5 years ago, but everytime I play that number now, it reminds me of Leslie Meranchin, and always will. I loved his offbeat sense of humor and intelligence.
-- Bonnye Karger
-- Bonnye Karger
A cousin writes...
I’m Leslie and Renee’s cousin Stephanie in PA. My mom Judi was their first cousin. Les was half way between the generations, which was great for me. It’s so very hard to accept losing Les to such a senseless accident. Thank you for creating the site. I can’t read the comments without crying, but I’m sure it’s comforting for Renee to be witness to Leslie’s legacy. He influenced so many, he was a true teacher. I’ll miss him, especially around the holidays. Every Christmas Eve was spent at my Aunt Becky’s home.
At Thanksgiving I just told my son about all the times Les would take us sled riding at Buhl Park back home. We would all pile on one sled, falling off all the way down. We take our children to the same sled riding hill when we’re home.
Les even let us crawl all over him when he had a body cast on. He would wrestle us all, me, Julie, Brian, and Craig. He paid attention to us (the younger cousins), he always spent time with us had conversations and made us feel special. I guess you can replace the word “us” for “me”. He made feel special by actually listening to me.
I’m thankful that I was able to spend time with Les on his last few trips home. Dinner, wine, and laughing. I’ll miss my cousin, I loved him.
Good thoughts and Blessings,
Stephanie DelFratte
At Thanksgiving I just told my son about all the times Les would take us sled riding at Buhl Park back home. We would all pile on one sled, falling off all the way down. We take our children to the same sled riding hill when we’re home.
Les even let us crawl all over him when he had a body cast on. He would wrestle us all, me, Julie, Brian, and Craig. He paid attention to us (the younger cousins), he always spent time with us had conversations and made us feel special. I guess you can replace the word “us” for “me”. He made feel special by actually listening to me.
I’m thankful that I was able to spend time with Les on his last few trips home. Dinner, wine, and laughing. I’ll miss my cousin, I loved him.
Good thoughts and Blessings,
Stephanie DelFratte
An old friend...
Since I learned of Leslie's passing last night I have been in a state of shock. At a high school reunion a few years ago, Leslie and I became friends again and had been corresponding re email. He had won a free weekend in Palensque, Mexico from an art showhe attended and wanted me to go with him. We decided not to go before this happened but sheesh.
Leslie, if you can imagine him in 1969 or so, was one of my friends in high school. We shared the same home room because our last names started with M. We both loathed all forms of authority and we did some really nasty childish things together. Like putting steel tacks on the teacher's seat. He never went to detention like I did though. He was always able to deadpan better than I. Leslie's picture in the yearbook has him wearing a big black curly afro to his shoulder blades.
I think Leslie's fantastic sense of humor came from him knowing deep personal pain. We both lost siblings who were about 23 when they died and we were about 13. We didn't know then why our parents were so weird and commiserated with each other. I guess you could say we didn't understand why our parents went nuts. We both felt like they took their losses out on us. But we didn't understand all of this until we were well into our 30's, 40's and 50's. Leslie wasn't even Catholic (I don't think) and he did a good job of guilt tripping himself. He wanted to solve his personal pain and not take it out on other people. That many more in the world were like him.
I can't tell you how many times I have about peed my pants from Leslie making me laugh. He was a master at the art of humor.
It gives me great heart and comfort to read comments from those who knew Leslie as a teacher and scholar. We who grew up with Leslie are feeling our pain too. Maybe more so. I don't know.
He will be sorely missed.
Goddess bless Leslie.
See you on the other side.
EM, Hermitage, PA
Leslie, if you can imagine him in 1969 or so, was one of my friends in high school. We shared the same home room because our last names started with M. We both loathed all forms of authority and we did some really nasty childish things together. Like putting steel tacks on the teacher's seat. He never went to detention like I did though. He was always able to deadpan better than I. Leslie's picture in the yearbook has him wearing a big black curly afro to his shoulder blades.
I think Leslie's fantastic sense of humor came from him knowing deep personal pain. We both lost siblings who were about 23 when they died and we were about 13. We didn't know then why our parents were so weird and commiserated with each other. I guess you could say we didn't understand why our parents went nuts. We both felt like they took their losses out on us. But we didn't understand all of this until we were well into our 30's, 40's and 50's. Leslie wasn't even Catholic (I don't think) and he did a good job of guilt tripping himself. He wanted to solve his personal pain and not take it out on other people. That many more in the world were like him.
I can't tell you how many times I have about peed my pants from Leslie making me laugh. He was a master at the art of humor.
It gives me great heart and comfort to read comments from those who knew Leslie as a teacher and scholar. We who grew up with Leslie are feeling our pain too. Maybe more so. I don't know.
He will be sorely missed.
Goddess bless Leslie.
See you on the other side.
EM, Hermitage, PA
More former students write...
Dr. Marenchin will be greatly missed. He was not your "normal" professor. He engaged his students and challenged us to think deeper about philosophy. Although it may not seem so, he was compassionate towards his students and gave us second chances.
-Jennifer
Dr. Marenchin was and is a great man. His profound knowledge and passion elevated the class to another level and he taught me that we are only here for a small amount of time but make sure that you appreciate it and live your life. Thank you for entering into my life.
- Joseph Martin
Great professor, he will be missed. I am thankful I had the pleasure of getting to know you this semester at UHCL.
- Davis
Oh my God. He was probably the best humanities professor I've ever had, so this is definitely a knock to me. I'm gonna miss him.
- Ferris
-Jennifer
Dr. Marenchin was and is a great man. His profound knowledge and passion elevated the class to another level and he taught me that we are only here for a small amount of time but make sure that you appreciate it and live your life. Thank you for entering into my life.
- Joseph Martin
Great professor, he will be missed. I am thankful I had the pleasure of getting to know you this semester at UHCL.
- Davis
Oh my God. He was probably the best humanities professor I've ever had, so this is definitely a knock to me. I'm gonna miss him.
- Ferris
A former student...
He was a wonderful professor. I wrote my final paper arguing against abortion for my Ethics class with him and he gave me an A+...He was a wonderful man.
An old friend writes...
I remember Leslie telling Leigh and me that he couldn't go camping with us because he might get grass stains on his jeans. And we got him back by throwing a tampon into his hot red Miata convertible as we left the restaurant (it wasn't used!). Actually, he probably got off to that. I remember his crazy story about swimming through the legs of some beautiful nude ladies at a Day of the Dead party. And Wednesday nights Leslie and Freebird hammering out the script (and hammering down the martinis) at Tony Mandola's (Nelson Mandela's) bar. Whatever happened to that script? I remember smoking his Dunhills, even though I don't smoke. I'll miss his witty, insightful, often cutting remarks at discussion groups. I still hear his laugh, I know I'll always hear his laugh. I loved you, Leslie! I will so miss you...
Jana Rosenbaum
Jana Rosenbaum
From an old friend...
I've known Les for over thirty years. We went to college together. I was the "dumb s**t" and he was "f**king brilliant" but we loved each other as good friends do. I can't even begin to describe the hilarious adventures we've had over the years. Even though we didn't see each other very often, I still considered Les to be one of my best friends. He was such a good friend. When we were together we just laughed non-stop. We were simpatico. It warms my heart to read all the great comments from his students. He was so passionate about knowledge and teaching. I just can't quite believe this. I miss him already.
Nancy Greene Marshall (an old friend)
Nancy Greene Marshall (an old friend)
From a friend...
Leslie had been a family friend for as long as I can remember. There was never a trip to Houston where I didn't see him & his sister, my honorary Aunt Renee. In fact, I have always thought of them as family. Leslie was such an interesting and humorous individual who always had me laughing. Leslie, those of us who had the privilege of knowing you are extremely lucky. You will be missed by many.
-Lydia Evans
-Lydia Evans
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Posts on something called Houston-Imports.com (of all places)...
• Had him about a year ago. Very cool guy that liked to cuss in every sentence lol. RIP
• Is this the guy with the curly grey hair and glasses?
• Yea
• damn that sucks, had him a couple years ago. I actually enjoyed going to his class and listening to his entertaining lectures. RIP.
• Yeah me too. His class was one of the few I actually looked forward to going to.
• His class is only class that I didn't make a A in at UH( made a B). On the other hand, his class is about the only one that I still retain more then half the information from. Took him Spring 2008.
• wow, i had him also. i got the chills when i read this. Marenchin was brilliant and engaged in the class with his quirky personality and use of profane language. the man was one of the best in the department and he's been with UH for a long time. it's really sad to see him go like this. i know UH will deeply miss him along with his former students. may he RIP. this ruined my day.
• Leslie is a guy? [Freebird, your blog editor, says Leslie would have howled if he had read this.]
• yes. but he was a damn good prof. =(
• rip, i remember taking his class. he cussed alot in class.
• damn i had him a couple years back..he gave me a fucking c+. fuck that class, but RIP
• oh shit thats crazy i took him like 2 years ago. always wore that white button up and those acid washed jeans RIP
• RIP to truly one of the best professors I've had.
• Is this the guy with the curly grey hair and glasses?
• Yea
• damn that sucks, had him a couple years ago. I actually enjoyed going to his class and listening to his entertaining lectures. RIP.
• Yeah me too. His class was one of the few I actually looked forward to going to.
• His class is only class that I didn't make a A in at UH( made a B). On the other hand, his class is about the only one that I still retain more then half the information from. Took him Spring 2008.
• wow, i had him also. i got the chills when i read this. Marenchin was brilliant and engaged in the class with his quirky personality and use of profane language. the man was one of the best in the department and he's been with UH for a long time. it's really sad to see him go like this. i know UH will deeply miss him along with his former students. may he RIP. this ruined my day.
• Leslie is a guy? [Freebird, your blog editor, says Leslie would have howled if he had read this.]
• yes. but he was a damn good prof. =(
• rip, i remember taking his class. he cussed alot in class.
• damn i had him a couple years back..he gave me a fucking c+. fuck that class, but RIP
• oh shit thats crazy i took him like 2 years ago. always wore that white button up and those acid washed jeans RIP
• RIP to truly one of the best professors I've had.
From a past student...
Dr. Marenchin was one of the most thought provoking professor at UH and one of the few remaining that continued to place students first. I had the pleasure of studying under Dr. Marenchin during a three week study abroad program to Europe in summer 2007. Only six students attended and we thrived off of the opportunity to learn philosophy in a more engaging, relaxed atmosphere. We enjoyed wonderful food and sightseeing, drank wine, and shared life stories; it will always remain one of my most cherished experiences in life. Dr. Marenchin challenged us to open our mind and world perspective so we may really understand why life's 'great debates' are truly philosophical ones.
Laura Bobrick
Laura Bobrick
More from UH students...
• Dr. Marenchin you will be greatly missed. He was such a great professor and made philosophy so interesting. His teaching was so unique and interesting, I really loved his class. He was so relaxed and easy going, but still made you think and work hard for your grade. The community of UH will miss his greatly and there will never be someone as great as he was to replace him. Annamarie
• He was a great man, and the first in a long line of professors that actually made the subject interesting for me. I was actually looking forward to him reading and critiquing my final paper (in the event he made us actually write it). I always valued his opinion and will be sure to pay my respects to him. he will be missed. He was my very 1st professor at UHCL and really helped me adapt to the campus. Thanks for your help sir, see you on the other side. Trevor
• He was a great man, and the first in a long line of professors that actually made the subject interesting for me. I was actually looking forward to him reading and critiquing my final paper (in the event he made us actually write it). I always valued his opinion and will be sure to pay my respects to him. he will be missed. He was my very 1st professor at UHCL and really helped me adapt to the campus. Thanks for your help sir, see you on the other side. Trevor
Former student writes on behalf of herself and her brother...
I along with my brother were former students of Leslie at UH and express our heartfelt sympathies to each and every person close to him. He will be missed at UH. Laura Martinez.
A friend writes...
I only knew Leslie for a short time, but in that time I came to enjoy our conversations and times together. He was always entertaining and underneath all the piss and vinegar, he was a truly enlightened and thoughtful soul. I'm sorry I couldn't spend more time with him and so sorry that he had to go so soon. Thank you for the coffee, books, movies, conversations, and laughter Leslie. You will be missed.
Your friend
Joy Bishop
Your friend
Joy Bishop
A current student writes...
This is a tremendous loss that will take time to recover from. Dr. Leslie Marenchin was a phenomenal professor who taught us more than philosophy. His lectures were so interesting and they usually showed his down-to-earth side. I loved that he related to us, the students, in a way that was approachable and comfortable. Dr. Marenchin was hilarious! There wasnʼt one class lecture that he didnʼt make us laugh! He told us many of his life stories and made an instant connection with us. The news hit me, as well as my classmates, hard. I sincerely give my condolences to his family, friends, colleagues, and his students. He absolutely left his mark in the world, and most definitely with me. I am very fortunate to have taken him this current fall semester; we didnʼt get to finish the semester together but the memories I leave with, will last a lifetime. I feel very sorry to the students who didnʼt get a chance to take Professor Marenchin. They missed out on a wonderful professor and an amazing person. - Lyna T
More from students...
• RIP Dr. Marenchin. He was an excellent teacher who made the class very fun although it was not an easy one at all. Very funny and humorous, always willing to help out. He will be missed.
• He was a difficult professor, his tests were hard. But his lectures were interesting and he held good classes. If you didn't understand he would keep going over it. I hated his class and loved it at the same time. If you were stupid coming in you were not going out. Its sad that he is gone, what a loss for any future UH PHIL students.
• He was a difficult professor, his tests were hard. But his lectures were interesting and he held good classes. If you didn't understand he would keep going over it. I hated his class and loved it at the same time. If you were stupid coming in you were not going out. Its sad that he is gone, what a loss for any future UH PHIL students.
Memorial service updated...
A memorial service for Dr. Leslie Marenchin will be held at the University of Houston A.D. Bruce Religion Center at 1 p.m. Sunday, December 7, 2008. (Go to www.uh.edu/maps/buildings/ADB for directions).
Following the service, we will greet friends at the home of Thad and Eric Lueders, 1727 North Boulevard, between Woodhead and Dunlavy.
Following the service, we will greet friends at the home of Thad and Eric Lueders, 1727 North Boulevard, between Woodhead and Dunlavy.
A former student writes...
He really was a GREAT teacher & i admired him for his teaching style. we were required to read for his class 'The Republic'. this was three years ago for me but i never forgot how he made this book as well as other concepts from other philosophers so intriguing! a great unique & wonderful man that UH will surely miss. Thank you so much Dr. Marenchin for making my UH experience great. Rachel, as posted in the Daily Cougar.
From the Daily Cougar...
Dean of the College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences John Antel said the college and the department are both at a great loss.
"It's a big loss because he was a great teacher," Antel said. "Philosophy at UH is a great department, but it's a pretty small department. We really depend on people like him."
It wasn't unusual for Marenchin to teach four or five classes a semester, said Antel, who was working with Marenchin on a philosophy-related study abroad program.
"He taught a lot of good classes here, and students liked him," Antel said.
This fall the professor taught two Introduction to Philosophy courses and two Introduction to Ethics classes.
Philosophy Department Chair Cynthia Freeland, who was was informed of the professor's death by Interim Provost Jerald Strickland late Monday night, said Marenchin was very laid-back and easy to talk with.
She said he had a "real low-key manner in class."
"He would really engage with the students and would sometimes be challenging toward them," she said. "A few times maybe the students were provoked, but in many cases they enjoyed it. They liked that kind of debate and being put on the spot."
Marenchin also infused his lectures with examples from his personal experiences, Freeland said.
"He tried to make the philosophy come more alive," she said.
Marenchin was a specialist in ethics and political philosophy and Kantian theory.
Second year philosophy graduate student Brian Embry said Marenchin was particularly concerned about students' education.
"He cared about getting his students to think about lots of different issues, especially regarding ethics. (He was) really fair too, to all the different perspectives," said Embry, one of Marenchin's teaching assistants.
In 1988 he received his Ph.D in philosophy from Rice University. He taught at The Honors College from 1994 to 1997, when he became an adjunct professor in the UH Philosophy Department. He also taught at UH-Clear Lake, St. Thomas University and Texas Southern University.
The Philosophy Department cancelled Marenchin's classes on Tuesday and has arranged for substitutes to meet with all of his classes for the remainder of the week.
"It's a big loss because he was a great teacher," Antel said. "Philosophy at UH is a great department, but it's a pretty small department. We really depend on people like him."
It wasn't unusual for Marenchin to teach four or five classes a semester, said Antel, who was working with Marenchin on a philosophy-related study abroad program.
"He taught a lot of good classes here, and students liked him," Antel said.
This fall the professor taught two Introduction to Philosophy courses and two Introduction to Ethics classes.
Philosophy Department Chair Cynthia Freeland, who was was informed of the professor's death by Interim Provost Jerald Strickland late Monday night, said Marenchin was very laid-back and easy to talk with.
She said he had a "real low-key manner in class."
"He would really engage with the students and would sometimes be challenging toward them," she said. "A few times maybe the students were provoked, but in many cases they enjoyed it. They liked that kind of debate and being put on the spot."
Marenchin also infused his lectures with examples from his personal experiences, Freeland said.
"He tried to make the philosophy come more alive," she said.
Marenchin was a specialist in ethics and political philosophy and Kantian theory.
Second year philosophy graduate student Brian Embry said Marenchin was particularly concerned about students' education.
"He cared about getting his students to think about lots of different issues, especially regarding ethics. (He was) really fair too, to all the different perspectives," said Embry, one of Marenchin's teaching assistants.
In 1988 he received his Ph.D in philosophy from Rice University. He taught at The Honors College from 1994 to 1997, when he became an adjunct professor in the UH Philosophy Department. He also taught at UH-Clear Lake, St. Thomas University and Texas Southern University.
The Philosophy Department cancelled Marenchin's classes on Tuesday and has arranged for substitutes to meet with all of his classes for the remainder of the week.
A current student...
As one of the students taking Dr. Marenchin's Philosophy class this semester, I was shocked to hear of his tragic passing. Although his teaching style was unconventional to say the least, I will always remember taking this class. His thought provoking arguments were always followed with, ".. now don't get offended, this isn't what I believe I'm just supposting [insert philosopher]". He encouraged us to also express our opinions like we were talking with a friend. I am sad that I won't get to run into him at a bar and have a drink with him. He will definately be missed. Kristin Martinez
A friend...
I met Leslie through Linda Swope (I married Linda's youngest niece, Lydia). I had met Leslie and Renee several times, some in Sharon, PA, some in Houston, TX. Most recently it was while Lydia and I were in Houston for her sister's wedding. We spent a good deal of time with Renee and Leslie (we actually stayed at Renee that trip). While my wife was involved in the bridal party festivities, Renee and Leslie were kind enough to keep me entertained by taking me for Mexican food and to a coffee/wine bar (while in between stopping by Leslie's place where he was kind enough to give me a copy of "Dante's Inferno").
What I am trying to say is, although I didn't know Leslie all that well, I knew him well enough that should anything this tragic ever happen to him, the number of broken-hearted people left in his wake would be immeasurable, myself included.
By the way, both Leslie and Renee spoke highly and often of you, Freebird. I am extremely sorry for your loss.
Sincerely,
Rick Toman
What I am trying to say is, although I didn't know Leslie all that well, I knew him well enough that should anything this tragic ever happen to him, the number of broken-hearted people left in his wake would be immeasurable, myself included.
By the way, both Leslie and Renee spoke highly and often of you, Freebird. I am extremely sorry for your loss.
Sincerely,
Rick Toman
A student in his ethics class...
Am in his current Ethics class.
He seemed a little quiet the last week he was in class I think something someone posted on ratemyprofessor.com possibly got to him as he talked about his age contrasted with the age of his students. Perception is not truth, I don't know why the poster didn't learn that in class, he certainly had gone over it.
Jennifer S. West
He seemed a little quiet the last week he was in class I think something someone posted on ratemyprofessor.com possibly got to him as he talked about his age contrasted with the age of his students. Perception is not truth, I don't know why the poster didn't learn that in class, he certainly had gone over it.
Jennifer S. West
From the blog of an acquaintance...
In the early '90s, I dated a guy who had a really neat group of friends. They were musicians, artists, readers and philosophers, and we used to gather at each others' homes to discuss the books and topics of the day over merlot and zinfandel...A few years after I broke up with the guy and lost my honorary membership in this eclectic group, I went back to school and took a restaurant job at a nicely upscale place so I could schedule my work around my classes. One of our bar regulars was an acquaintance from the old gang, philosophy professsor Leslie Marenchin. He would sit at the bar nursing a single glass of wine and when I had a few spare minutes I would chat with him about the state of the world and the nature of humanity. Or just the weather. It never mattered with him. He was a gentle soul who was always happy to see a friend, even if there was really nothing to say.
Today I found out he died over the weekend in a fall at his home. He was only 54. Apparently he fell down a flight of stairs and hit his head on a tile floor. Friends coming for a book club meeting found him.
I didn't know Leslie well, but he was always kind to me, even in my harum-scarum days when I probably didn't deserve it. I'm saddened that he won't be around any more to share his thoughtful intelligence with friends and students, and that such a silly, pointless accident claimed his life. From Tri-bunny.blogspot.com.
Today I found out he died over the weekend in a fall at his home. He was only 54. Apparently he fell down a flight of stairs and hit his head on a tile floor. Friends coming for a book club meeting found him.
I didn't know Leslie well, but he was always kind to me, even in my harum-scarum days when I probably didn't deserve it. I'm saddened that he won't be around any more to share his thoughtful intelligence with friends and students, and that such a silly, pointless accident claimed his life. From Tri-bunny.blogspot.com.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Memorial service...
There are tentative plans for a memorial service to be held in the chapel on the University of Houston campus at 1 p.m. on Sunday, December 7.
Former student writes on art blog glasstire.com...
In response to the headline, "It's a sad day, University of Houston philosophy professor and gallery-goer Leslie Marenchin was found dead yesterday after an apparent accident," a former student by the name of Maureen wrote:
"I don't know if anyone ever took Dr. Marenchin for philosophy, if you didn't you missed out on a great professor...he was my all time favorite professor and I'm sad. Thought I'd let others know.
A current student's post from another blog...
I mean no intrusion on your grief, but this man was my professor. We had, of course, a very limited interaction but he was one of my favorite instructors. The greatest compliment that I can think to give him is that he reminded me the education is more important than the grade. (That is an easy thing to lose sight of in academics.) He was compassionate, gentle and always encouraging. I was actually looking forward to his lecture on Nietzsche tomorrow. An uncommon sentiment that...and the mark of his professorship.
While our experience doesn't compare to the sense of loss his friends and family must be experiencing now, his students will miss him and those who will never have the opportunity to take his classes will be the poorer for it.
Another former student posts...
I was also a past student of Dr. Marenchin. His class was challenging and one of the few classes I did not receive a solid "A+" in but he taught me that questioning one's beliefs is not necessarily a bad thing and how to be open to the ideas and humor of others.
Marenchin had a quirky personality--one that engaged the class with humor, creativity, efficient use of profane language to seize our attention and hold onto it for the next 90 minutes he lectured, and most of all, he taught us how to love philosophy. The first day of a college course, the professor walks in, introduces himself quickly, and then speaks of the course. 10 mins. later, you are heading home. Not Dr. Marenchin. You better believe he lectured for all 90 minutes the first class and then would question you about some of that first lecture in his first exam.
I will miss him. Though we never had a close relationship and though I disagreed with some of his teaching style and beliefs he perpetuated in class, he was a wonderful person and there was no denying it.
UH had a loss today and one that can never be replaced. Friends, family, past and future students will never bee the same. RIP Dr.
Former students respond...
•RIP Dr. Marenchin. Wow, words can't expressed how shocked I am. I just/saw talked to him; we were sitting in class Monday morning pissed off because he didn't show up. How shameful of us now, this really saddens me. He was in interesting professor, he kept us laughing our butts off. Though he was super hard (doesn't matter anymore), he was so much fun.
•I am so sad to hear of his passing. He was a brilliant teacher and one of my all time favorites. I took ethics and logic with him. I can't believe he's gone.
•I'm sorry that he passed away because I thought he was wonderful at teaching philosophy. He made it captivating and I admit that I LOVED his humor.
Your comments are encouraged...
UH professor Leslie M. Marenchin, 54, died this past weekend after a fall at his home, as reported in the Houston Chronicle. In the last few days, I've found posts by students, present and former, scattered around the internet (I've taken the liberty of re-posting some of them here). And since the Houston Chronicle removed the "comments" option on its articles, I created this blog to provide a place for everyone to post their thoughts, and read others.
I cannot tell you what a comfort it is to Leslie's family and friends to read these posts, and to know that their feelings for Leslie are shared by others.
NOTE: IF YOU WANT TO POST A COMMENT BUT DON'T WANT TO DEAL WITH THE BURDENS OF THE BLOG POSTING PROCESS, FEEL FREE TO SEND ME YOUR COMMENTS AND I WILL SEE THAT THEY ARE POSTED. Send to: keithjon@hotmail.com
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