In Memoriam: Lawrence Edward Leaf

Lawrence Edward Leaf, a man of humble beginnings, was born on his family's 100-acre homestead June 19, 1926, in Addy, Washington where he would walk uphill to his one one-room school house carrying a metal pail of food even in even in blistering heat and deep snow. From a young age, Larry developed the passion for books and knowledge that would carry him through his life. Citing The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn as one of his early favorites, Larry longed for adventures of his own, a story he could tell. Little did he know, his life would be full of marvelous adventures.

            His first big adventure would call in the form of World War Two which was in its final years when Larry enlisted in the Navy. After being shipped around to several engineering training centers, Larry was deployed near the Phillippines to find and deactivate bombs left in the ocean. Since this was an invaluable service, Larry remained on duty six months after the war concluded and was eventually sent home on a crowded cargo ship. The war endowed Larry, and his future wife, with a deep sense of compassion and anti-violence. The turmoil they saw forcibly ingrained in them an appreciation of humanity that explains the generosity of their future careers and lives.

            Now, back in the homeland Larry worked with his father in the Addy garage fixing cars, and then went to take care of his ailing grandmother. The dinky jobs he had during this time motivated him to go college and satiate his need for knowledge. Earning both a bachelors and a masters in math and science fields, per his teacher’s glowing recommendation, Larry was immediately catapulted into teaching at various military bases around the world.

            For many years, Larry embarked on the globe-trotting adventure that would eclipse even the fantasy worlds of his favorite books. He ventured to four continents, saw the world’s greatest sights, mingled with locals of the most diverse cultures of the Earth, enjoyed beer in Germany, collected pottery from Iceland, went on a safari in Africa, and everything you could think of under the sun. The world was literally his oyster. On quieter nights, Larry continued to nurse his vibrant inner life, reading enough books to fill a mansion and listening to as many records. He even saw a couple productions of the great Broadway musicals of his generation, like My Fair Lady and South Pacific.

            Larry was an admittedly shy and reserved person which most of the time acted to his benefit. However, in the female department, Larry’s reticence left him dumbstruck. He once confessed to me that while on a date with a girl he liked, he didn’t say anything past the first hello which made her leave in a huff believing he was the biggest jerk she ever met. Perhaps Larry was just waiting for the right woman because he certainly had no problem opening up to his future wife.

           

Larry met his wife Fumie, or Faith, whilst they were both in Germany in the basement mail-room of the base they were staying at. Both teachers and world travelers, it was an instant connection for they proceeded to talk for several hours and then got married a few short months later. Funnily enough, their mutual friend had suggested that they meet up but Larry was to shy to instigate a meeting and it was only chance that eventually pushed them together. I guess that goes to show true love finds a way. Another of Larry’s great, unexpected adventures.

           

            Shortly after their marriage began, Larry and Faith Leaf embarked on the greatest of adventure of all, raising children. Deciding that given their age they would rather not start with a newborn baby, they opted to adopt. Serendipity played its hand again sending them to Korea where a maid told the couple of a woman looking to give her child the opportunity to receive an education deserving of her large intellect. As they’ve told it, Larry and Faith were sitting in a room when a vivacious, young girl burst in greeting them in Korean and lighting up the space. Larry immediately said, “she’s mine. That’s my child.” Their new daughter, Grace, would come home with them a short time after.

One could say that while on his travels, Larry collected a treasure trove of souvenirs, many of which have made their way into the loving hands of his descendants, but his most beloved gifts came from the Orient. His newfound wife was Japanese and his two daughters would both come from Korea. When Grace was 11, the couple adopted another girl, this time rescuing her from an orphanage and finally giving her a stockpile of food that could fill her starved stomach.

Throughout the rest of his life, Larry taught students in Chewelah, Spokane and the Language School. He continued to give of himself to his students, his wife, his children, and eventually, his grandchildren. Papa, as us grandkids refer to him, sprang into our stories as a venerable old man complete this his trademark dry wit and the magical ability to pull coins out of our ears. We got to know him from out frequent after school visits and family game nights when he would thoroughly trounce everyone at Scrabble.

His still mostly reserved demeanor betrayed no hints of the amazing life he had led. The eyes that had seen the innards of the world’s greatest conflict, the Earth’s most fascinating cities, the purest form of love… Those eyes were forever searching, forever contemplating and, if you were lucky, the contemplated you.

And so was the way Larry led his life: with grace, dignity, and humility.

Two days before he died, I sang some of Papa’s favorite songs for him not knowing they would be a farewell gift. I imagined he was remembering the night he met Faith, a stranger across a crowded room, as I sang “Some Enchanted Evening” as well the rest of his life’s journeys.

Papa didn’t want to live a life where he couldn’t continue his adventures, whether it was in the books he read or with the children, grandchildren, and students he now supported. So, with reluctance, but bowing to his wishes, the family detached him from the machines that tethered him to an inadequate, bed-ridden state of life of which he wanted no part…and we said goodbye.

While none of us is ever really ready to let go of the people we love, in the words of J.K. Rowling, “To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

Happy Adventuring, Papa.