from Peg S, Leif's cousin

The Pittsburgh Ahrens family's arrival each summer meant a rallying of the cousins.  There were at least six of us: two older girls who talked endlessly of feminine matters, we two younger ones who played endlessly with animals, and THE BOYS who were always dreaming up adventures.  We managed to get along en masse as well, timesharing two parlor spaces for practicing piano and varied wind instruments. Then there were the tireless games of cowboys and Indians with cap pistols, hide and seek (with each of us vying for finding the most creative, secretive spot), and nature walks supervised by Uncle Chuck with all children slathered in fels naphtha soap to avoid the copious poison ivy at the farm.

Somehow Leif decided to be the big brother I never had.  I loved him devotedly because he was fun!  He was insatiably curious and very playful.  He could be a world-class tease, but was so charming while doing so that I ended up learning not to take myself so seriously and to enjoy the whimsy of the moment.

I'll never forget Luck trying to fix the chiming grandfather clock in the hall or to learn how sewing machines were able to make interlocking stitches.  When his Aunt Doris suggested that these projects weren't worth continuing to worry over, he indignantly countered that he had had professors who were willing to think like that.  Leif never gave up on intellectual puzzles.  He never stopped "chewing" over a problem, thinking, experimenting, experiencing.

Leif was a marvelous teacher.  He was able to analyze any problem and break it into its various components--making the search for an answer more manageable.  He enjoyed patiently teaching his young nieces and nephews through play.  I will never forget him devising a proof for me showing how any number "n" to the zero power equals 1.  I remember thinking that if every teacher were like Luck no one would be bored in school, and everyone would be eager to learn.  There are few better compliments we could give anyone.

Although it was very apparent that Leif, the "Elephant Child", would become a research scientist, he was also highly artistic.  He loved the grace of elegantly simple mathematical proofs.  He was a wondrous nature photographer.  He once sent me a picture of a moose that so perfectly portrayed its gawky, knobby nature that I almost expected it to break into speech and tell me about itself. Somewhere I have a delightful letter from Leif's Army days that describes a chimp in the lab that managed to outsmart all the scientists there.  The letter was a perfect combination of skilled observation, subtle humor, and expressive writing.  Luck was truly his author father's son.

I think that the happiest part of Luck's life was his marrying Susan and having their family.

Susan was Leif's perfect match.  She is an outdoorsy woman who also loves art, and possesses great curiosity, humor, and a loving heart.  I'll never forget the loving calm shown me when I'd leave the city for a weekend, rejoicing in the warmth of their happy family.  I also remember the exhaustion after talking all weekend with a loquacious young Robin, wearily returning to my silent apartment thinking, "Yep, it's continuing.  He's Elephant Child II."

We will all miss Leif -- the husband, the father, the amazing teacher, the loving friend who was such a beautiful listener.  But he leaves two sons who very much exhibit both sides of Luck's nature: Robin, who uses the careful mind of a scientist to help critically ill children, and Mark, a marvelous visual artist and writer.

I will especially miss the young man who taught me to sail and who answered any science question I ever had.  But most of all I'll miss the young boy jumping through the waves at the beach, explaining later that day while we played as knights with yard-stick swords how it would be much better to have armor made of aluminum rather than steel.  This armor would be much lighter and cooler, therefore more efficient to use.

In heaven I am certain that the good Lord has already assigned Luck his own personal angel who will answer his myriad questions throughout eternity.  And some day all the cousins will share together once again, just as we did in the perfect, drowsily sunny summer days of our youth.