“Please don’t leave”. Those were the first words Marvin ever said to me in person. We were regularly in communication over email. We had talked on the phone a few times. But before that day, we had never met face to face. We still hadn't actually met face to face. I was sitting in the back of a classroom. It was 1997 and we were at the International Balloon Arts Convention in Chicago. Marvin was teaching an introductory class in balloon twisting on the opening day of the conference. While I didn't need the introductory class, I wanted to see him in action. I wanted to watch him teach. Like so many other people all over the world, I viewed him as a mentor. I had a small collection of his books. I would consult with him on all sorts of projects that came up. I knew his work and was heavily influenced by his style. He had always been selfless with his time and knowledge, and this was the first chance I had to actually attend a class of his. It didn't matter that I had just driven for nearly 12 hours from Rochester, NY to get to Chicago. I didn't opt for rest after the drive. I quietly snuck into the back of the room to catch just a few minutes of his class. As exhaustion started to win out, I was satisfied that I did get to see what I came for. I knew there would be more time later to connect with him and see him in other classes. I tried to sneak out as quietly as I snuck in. It was a large class in a very large room. And yet, to my surprise, this man that I had never seen face to face, that I never considered would know what I looked like, stopped mid sentence as he taught, and said, "Larry, please don't leave. Why don't you help some of the people here that are having trouble keeping up?"
I felt obligated to honor that request. After all, he wasn't asking me to do something that he wouldn't do himself. If there was someone that needed help, he was there to assist. More than a few times, he was there for me when I had questions. So if he wanted me to help others, I wasn't about to refuse. Over the years, this happened numerous times. I continued to learn from him, and I would happily assist others, as best I could, in the same way. Even as my balloon skills advanced and my style drifted quite far from his, I could learn from him simply by listening to his stories. And there were stories. Stories about anything and everything. Given a chance, he was as likely to tell a story about a math problem he encountered as he was to talk about the countries where he taught his art. In all of the years I knew him, he was never speechless.
Marvin was an inspiration to many people. He was an artist, an innovator, a teacher, and a genuinely caring person, loved by so many. Remembering how we met, there are a few selfish words circling in my head: "Marvin, please don't leave."