Marian and I knew each other long enough not to remember precisely when we met. Was it 1984 or 1985? In any case, it was at Stanford, in a seminar I was teaching on the Great Books. One of her responses to the readings especially struck me. We were talking about Nietzsche, and she wanted to bring out something that I was overlooking. It was a thirst for life, for vitality, that drove this philosopher, she said. I remember this remark so many years later both because of the unassertive way Marian had of grasping the essence of things, and because that statement about vitality also characterized her. She loved life, and made an art out of living it with proper attentiveness. The difficult circumstances of her illness intensified her focus on moments, whether they were painful or joyful. It made her into such a wonderful conversation partner, every experience waiting for the words to express it, remaining in some ways new.
Since we lived so far away from each other for most of our friendship, practically a continent apart, we fell into the habit of talking on the phone every few months. It was always so enlivening for me to discover the moments of life each of us had lived in the intervening period. With no one else could I recreate thoughts and experiences in the way I could with her. Talking with Marian was a way of weaving how to face life together. It was a serious and also very playful business. We would often laugh at all the oddities, and Marian's laugh was part of that vitality she had. It is difficult to imagine living without those conversations.
Four summer ago, I came out to visit Marian for a week. It was such a full time--beauty without, beauty within. I will always associate Marian with beauty, the visible and invisible kind. And with fullness. May her memory be for a blessing.
Annette Aronowicz