About Marvin

by Michelle Read DeGarmo

When I tell people about you, those who never got to know you when you were in the world, this is what I say:

You were brilliant. Able to take a building apart and put it back together in your head, then write the instructions. You loved architecture, history, and railroads the way a potter loves clay. You were one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, and yet you possessed the charisma to speak with anyone without a hint of superiority. You could command a room with a look or a word. This was the best of you.

I also got to see the worst parts of you. Your temper, that deep fiery rage with teeth and claws. How your eloquent words, when turned loose in anger, could tear your opponent apart, even when, especially when, you didn’t raise your voice. I saw your insecurities, how you hated yourself more than anyone else ever could. Our shared fear that the world would find out the secret to our success was just pretending to have a plan.

Most of the time, though, you showed up for our friendship with your best self, and challenged me to do the same. Problem solving was our language. We built a company and a life like an old couple working through a crossword together.