Bob Greenleaf

Dr. Robert Greenleaf died earlier this week. I did not really know him, but in recent months I have spent several afternoons with his wife, Anne Greenleaf, discussing the history of the art museum. I have always known her. When I was about five years old I went to their home to play with their youngest daughter, my classmate Lisa Greenleaf. Anne Greenleaf served us vegetable soup for lunch. I remember thinking "where are the alphabet letters?" I had never had homemade soup. I've been on a mission to take down Campbell's ever since.

Anne has always been one to stir the pot, and she's made more than one bigass ruckus at at the art museum in her lifetime. She has often been right--not that people always listened.

For the past few years, Anne has taken care of Bob through his failing health. She is surrounded by five daughters, and I am sure they love her very much. But I know that she will be lonely now, and that none of us can fill in that emptiness. She is always upbeat and cheery--I will call her today and see if she is ready for my visits to resume. I just like to listen to her, and watch her face as she thinks back over her life, and I like to think about how much she has experienced.