Always happy when I see my wedding pix & Alan, you are there to give music, words & love…your home & arms were always there for me & that flower will always stay in the garden of my heart❤️
Lizzy

on your 101st birthday..
travel light.. stay in touch.. dont lie.. show, dont tell.
read a book. be a dreamer. fight for justice.. right the wrongs.
sing a song. make art. are just a few of what you taught.
you taught and taught and taught and taught but mostly you showed me what it means to create.. to make new... to live with suprise and invention and I am still trying to catch it.. to capture it.. to bottle it every,single chance I get..
thanks you.. gracias and merci beaucoup

Dear Alan,

I think of you and Dr. Lotte often and miss you both. Cinco de Mayo this year was a beautiful night, with a full moon rising over Tetilla Peak, which we see from the back deck of our New Mexico home. The “Flower Moon” was huge and bright, and somehow it felt as though you were both present, illuminating the darkness.

Thanks for all the love, support, wit & wisdom, music, and editorial contributions through the years. Thinking of you still and always, with love and gratitude - Cyndi

HI Dad,
  I do miss your presence when I visit the house, like now. I miss seeing you with mom.
  I fear I won't live as long as you and mom did, as I fight my own early aging issues (early 60s now).
  I think I became not just a musician, but specifically an extremely eclectic one, because of your own incredible eclecticism - everything from folk music to classical, from jazz to Mexican folklore. Same thing with languages (you used to call me, as a joke, "My son the Arab.")

Hang in there on your death anniversary, David

Hey dad.. your touch on the piano is always with me... your wit in describing people is undeniable.. your laugh is the best! you closed your eyes and howled as your head fell back with the raucousness! You knew how to point me to the best in new artists whether it be in literature, music or film.. You were a huge neurotic but at the same time you were hugely sympathetic to those that had less than.. the marginalized and cast aways... you and LOtte did alot to try and help with the stigma of the immigrant and sadly.... we are in a terrible way in this country around all of that and I am so glad you are not here to see it.. I think of you all the time and I am so happy to come here and tell you how much you did for me... i love you alan marcus

The more time passes, the more I appreciate your influence and role modeling, Alan. Thinking of you brings a smile. There aren't many who've seen as much as you. Perspective, you had it. I recently played with renowned jazz musician Mark Miller for instance, and thought of our conversations, Alan, about jazz. You knew what you were talking about about so many things! i.e. regarding surgeons' mentalities. And you might've opened your mind a bit to Esalen: just because Fritz was a philanderer doesn't mean that there weren't some great ethical people there who weren't sipping chardonnay and kombucha in hot tubs. Yes, us young ignorant whippersnappers at times might have a point or 2. And love to you and family Alan! I miss you, Charles

I'm still talking about you and Lotte - such wonderful, compassionate activists. Glad I got to know you better in that last couple of years. You're probably scoffing that we are writing these words, hoping you are "reading" them somewhere...(!)

I will always miss you, Alan. I miss learning about your incredible life and your many accomplishments. I especially miss your friendship. There will never be another like you. Rest peacefully, my friend.

Alan, what a time this would have been for your thunderous rants, your piss and vinegar, your eloquent scalpel! I dream of what you would have regaled us with and miss your words.

So glad to have spent time with this extraordinary man. Inspirational, funny and creative. What’s not to love?

Dad. its hard to believe you would have been 97 today.
You have left me with a mountain of beauty and a deep appreciation of the human spirit. You are one rock star and you were punk before punks were punk

7/10  birthday
I seek you by the mountainside
I seek you by the shore
there is no container big enough
in which my grief to store

I try.try.try to turn my grief into grattude....that we  accidentally met...that you asked me what i was reading..after i told you you said i will bring you something better......It was the Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer....I was happy as a post refugee, you were depressed to be in Hollywood and you couldnt wait to get away......but you didn;t....I loved you and waasnt surprised but you were...you became happier and happier when we got married and - except for the last yearsin your nineties- i only have love and good memories..........and wonderful adult children  happy birthday  7/10/2020......

Dear Alan,
Like your family and other friends, I miss you still, though nearly 5 years have passed (it was so "you" to choose to leave us - physically - on Cinco de Mayo, a celebratory day). But, as you know well, I am no stranger to navigating the loss of family and friends - and I had you, and Dr. Lotte, and Anina to help float the boat in the most difficult of times. I have wished these past several years that we lived closer to Dr. Lotte and Anina, to be there for them at this time. And yet, I know you and they understand Bill's and my need to continue to do what we can to "liberate" the planet, to preserve the beauty we have been graced to experience in our lifetimes and to create some that can be contributed forward. I think of you so often; and as I listen to the news, I remind myself of your admonition to the human race to "be kind" and to follow Anne Herbert's instructions to, "practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty." I attempt, each day, to follow this excellent advice, because in practicing we become accomplished; and in creating senseless acts of beauty, we offer a gift free of expectation of any particular outcome and one that no critique can negate, because its intent is pure.

Thinking of you, Dr. Lotte, and your family brought two poems I wrote years ago to mind: One, "The Elder," reminded me of you; and so it is first in this tribute. The second, "Fairy Bells," was written after my mother, brother, and father passed. I have always turned to nature for solace, and I hope that its message may bring a bit of comfort to those who, like me, find their way back to this page during these challenging times. Because the flame of your spirit still burns brightly, and all of your children are still listening:

The Elder

Armies of saguaro cactus
march up the parched slopes
of the desert range,
arms extended upward,
outward,
toward the blazing turquoise sky.

Needle-sharp spines ward off the enemy—
poised weapons of defense.

And yet the elder,
the greatest saguaro of them all,
has arms that curve
and would embrace;
it has yielded its tender heart
to nesting birds.

Open your eyes, little one;
take the food from your mother’s beak.
Impale yourself, and you will find
the answers you would seek.

Heart to heart,
from mouth to mouth,
arm in arm—
the path to peace. ~cyndi

Fairy Bells

Stand in silence,
and in awe,
of all the eye can see,
the ear can hear,
the sense of touch,
of smell.

Be at one with nature.
Take time–
absorb her well.

Her sighing winds will comfort,
her birdsongs bring you joy;
no lasting sorrows can abide
where she weaves her wondrous spell.

Keep her safe and guard her
for your children’s children
and their dreams;
Share with her your secret thoughts,
for she will never tell.

Stand in silence,
and in awe;
you may hear the sweet refrain
of babbling brooks
and buzzing bees
in a lemon-scented rain.

If you listen closely
and you learn your lessons well,
you may even hear
the distant chime
of the snow-white fairy bells. ~ cyndi

I am thinking about you alot these days, Dad, and missing your wit, incisive humor, and your long view of history.
Can't believe its almost 5 years.
You missed the whole shit show of Trump and now the Pandemic. Wish you were here to say This Too Shall Pass. Reading your screenplay Journey South again, ( or your movie-novel as Pauline Kael called it) and moved all over again by its humanity and prescient forecast of our present times. Thanks for the music, and San Miguel de Allende, and, well, all of it. Naomi

5/6/19:
I cant believe you are not here . Itis surreal.But you are in my heart- forever and forever......we had each other for 64 years..5/5/2019

Gabriel Marcus
12:45 PM (7 hours ago)
to Lotte, me
Wow I can't believe it's only been four years...it feels like a different world and I feel like a different person than the me that exhisted within that era.
As far as memories go, I don't think I've ever met another person to this day with the capacity for language that Alan had, in natural eloquence, oration abilities, and ever expanding vocabulary. While he did, at times, come off as slightly verbose in emails at me where the basic question could have been more succinctly summed up as 'how are you,' I cannot emphasize enough how his dedication to language as a whole inspired me to read more, pick up new world's, and resist the path of least resistance, that is weak minded humans are too likely to fall prey too. A terrific person who lives within us constantly.
Lots of love, and, as Alan would say, 'mantequilla por favor'

night and day ... day and night.. I think of you. .. when the jazz is on... when beauty hits me in the gut... when the light turns golden, when I laugh so hard my belly bursts and I want you to tilt that head of yours back and laugh with me.. when the fireplace is going strong,  when you hold that hand of yours on your cheek and listen.. night and day... day and night I think of you ..

You and yor family changed my life. Forever grateful. Happy Birthday wherever you are Alan - you haven’t disappeared from my world :-).

A POST BY EDWARD GEERSON
Some men, many undeserving, achieve the ability to influence the World through fame, wealth or power.
Alan changed our worlds through the force of his intellect, creativity and love of humanity, inspiring us to be more than what we thought we were.
Like the butterfly of chaos, Alan's legacy continues to warp and weft through the innermost fabric of our lives.
Thank you, Alan, on your 96th birthday.

Seeing dear Lotte this last weekend at Bee's Memorial, made me reflect on how much a missed Alan accompanying her. He loved my photography when I was just starting out and introduced me to his dear friend Ben Maddow, a writer about photography and a collector. Ben bought the very early photos from 1968 that I took on Potrero Hill in SF. This made me so proud!! Thank you Alan and Ben. I miss you both.

I am into my fourth year of widowhood, attempting to turn grief into gratitude. You are as vivid as ever....I see your eyes turn into a crinkly smile as I talk to Anina about you.
I have plans for you. 1) We are making a memorial garden with a rise of
15 or so different bulbs below  Anina's trailer . 2) I have had "Miracles" retyped - including your prologue. I could read all  of your handwritten insertions .We are going to Amazon.com to publish it. Three): I am combining your poems with my poems in a book to be published entitled "So Green Our Beginnings" Four: I am going to publish six stories -including an excerptfrom - OfStreets& Stars -1) the Death of CorporalCutie Pie ; 2)I don't Care Three)The Man Who Disturbed the Peace 4)the Girl Without A Name 4) Tierra
I might combine Tierra with CarmenConsuelo Garcia
I cant find but will look for
The Way Things Are
Children in the Modern World
The IlesofGreece
The LethalFactor
The Man Who Couldn't Lose
We will publish The Morning The Wall Came Down
I want you to know that English onWheels - your creation and my practical application for 18 years is housed at Univs of Stanford,Chicano HistorySection
You know that Wellstone Center - Steve Kettman - will house all our fiction books, the chronology and printed parts of your work, my two books of poems, in something he will call Alan'sand Lotte's literary legacy...........
We were, I have come to feel, each other's love for 64 years : the above is
what remains.

wow...can't believe it has been 3 years. I think of him often - and by reading these memorial tributes, his distinctive voice comes to me. He left such an impression on so many. Sending the family love at this time - I'm sure the sadness comes and goes....he was a powerful force....

from zia:
Alan: intelligent,intellectual, downpour of words, agressive-power-house of political agenda. Vigilant, complicated, conflicted, pushy yet self deprecating. A bright candle standing up to a storm.
Keen, dapper, a lion in his round den. He loved his hearth and his kingdom-extended genuine hospitality at his round table: loyal, supportive, mischievous, humorous and warm.. like our wedding song.
A true mate to Lotte (I felt the torch he carried for her beauty) a warrior. gardener and a family man.
He had daniels back.
When I brought music-I felt an authentic, quiet nurturing response that mattered to me... and still does..

ZIA SHAPIRO DEC 2017

July 10th. This is my birthday card for you,Alan

I go through my days as a widow with our adult children and have figured this out :alan,how lucky, how miraculous that we found each other at metro goldwyn-mayer - what a random accident,how it might not have happened by a slightly changed timing or by passing each other by, how different both our lives could have been.. After all, we came from a different class of Jews, you were so American,I was then,so the Refugee..... but you took all that in and made me feel safe for the first time. Have I thanked you enough for that?Nor did I know when we married how truly talented y0u were in literature,music,& the changing issues involving social justice. As JerryCohen recently said:Alan had wit and he had integrity!And then, through marriage,through raising individually talented children, through working as partners (English onWheels, Natividad Medical Center,Family Medicine) , we became each other's echo - it doesnt get better than that  and my deep love for you doesnt go away.Not a bit. Lotte

Dearest Pop, You are giving me strength in so many ways everyday since you have gone.. I could not have finished two articles recently if I had not heard your voice saying: "Go anina Go.. Go.. You teach me to persist in "getting things down with truth and passion and detail" in writing. You have taught me to always take time to listen to peoples pain... You have taught me to always STOP FOR BEAUTY whenver and wherever possible. You continue to look down on me with your twinkle and and comfort... and do you know dad .. on a hot day when the sun is coming in strong thru the trailer window.. you always had the shades closed down so when I came home the trailer would be cool and comfortable.... You thought of the little things.. the most important.. I love you so much.. How are things where you are? I await your answer.

When Alan and I first met and I red his book he and I realized our bond as refugees. Through the years and decades our friendship and that with Lotte, family and friends grew and every time we saw each other the mutual overstanding of creative energies was evident. His presence
is sorely missed and the remembrance and love of what we meant to each other remains as a treasure in heart and mind

it's a fact: I have had to live without you for two years,while putting one foot in front of another.......the presence of your absence grows ..it wont go away and I don't want it to....... we filled each other's being...... what a shared piece of luck we lived......I am grateful for all you gave to me andour family.

Dad, all I know is that each day that goes by as I count the hours, days, months and now 2 years.. I miss you more.. I love you more.. I remember you more.. I want to be with you more.. I want to laugh with you more.. I want to feel your big hands holding me more.. maybe it is best this way.. if I had the chance to see you just even for a slight minute... this moreness might get even worse so I come here to this sanctuary spot and be with you every now and then and it is good.  I love you more.

Alan, thinking of you, all I can do is grin and shake my head: amazing, such a man. So unusual, multitalented, carrying perspective, salt and vinegar, passionate commitment. My life is richer for having known you.

Last night I watched Kiarostami’s great, enigmatic film “The Wind Will Carry Us”. At the end wanted to pick up my phone and call Alan Marcus.
This sort of thing happens every week or so.
Alan had no equal for exploring any deep reaction (intellectual, emotional, or spiritual) to a work of art, or a public action. He was so generous in sharing the benign ferocity of his mind and heart.
I can never think of his passing without remembering Antonio Machado’s elegy for his mentor, Francisco Giner de los Rios. It begins:

Como se fue el maestro,
la luz de esta mañana
me dijo: Van tres días
que mi hermano Francisco no trabaja.
¿Murió? . . .

Alan was another such “brother of the dawn light”.

Later in the poem Machado writes:

¡Yunques, sonad; enmudeced, campanas! (Ring the anvils; hush the bells!)

That’s what Alan would want us to do. And keep doing.

Remembering Popala      from Liz

To a Tiger of a Teddy...a Titan
So volatile:voracious and vocal
Humorous, hungry to hear it all
Heart-full and heartless; honing in to his truth
Complicated, cunning and cantankerous,
He filled many a night with tales and sails to many a new shore
For this alone and so much more, we honor his gifts...
And the rest? Well...we ignore

Happy B'Day

FROM NAOMI: I also am thinking about you dad, but not just on your birthday, I think about you and talk to you off and on throughout the week. I miss your hands on the piano, and your making the fires, and your walking around with your fists clenched in fury at the stupidity of the world and I miss your kindness to outcasts, and I miss singing the beautiful songs you wrote for so many occasions, while you accompanied me on the piano and corrected my renditions, over and over, Love, Naomi

Hello sweet pops.. It has been a little over a year since you died.. Today you would have been 94! I cannot tell you how strong your presence is in this side of the world for me.. I ask you questions all the time and you give me the best answers that are guiding me forward.. If I say: "What would Alan Marcus do?" Usually it is the JUST thing.. the HONEST thing.. the DIGNIFIED thing.... I mostly hear you say. "RAISE YOUR VOICE FOR THE UNHEARD.. LISTEN TO THOSE THAT CANNOT SPEAK..SEE FOR THOSE THAT CANNOT SEE... AND TELL YOUR TRUTH CLEARLY..  I see your twinking mischievous smile in every corner of this beautiful house that you bought 58 years ago and it is a gift I thank you for everyday...

It was an honor and gift to know Alan.
Thank you Anina and Lotte for this wonderful anniversary remembrance. Charles

i want to correct something: i have been saying to you all that when alan died, he "left me a big mess". I t was a literal truth.
yes , he left eight piles of papers on the floor -his dying body curled upon the same floor in between the paper heaps - and then some fourteen boxes on shelves.I have spent about five hours each week for a year now together with Madina, a young helper, sorting through them..............

  But in the course of this year, I learned two important things.What i called "a big mess" was how Alan needed to put things away.
Many times I would have to ask him for a bill or a piece of paper , and I'd look for a file with bills;but "no" he would say, "i have to
go through my stuff and then I will give it to you......". (sometimes he did and sometimes he didnt - but not because he
couldnt find it but because he forgot). I realize now that he visualized where his papers lay but he had to
intuit his way back to them: just like his favorite books on his office shelf.They were in no particular order and yet he knew exactly
where each one was.........his "mess" was a comfort to him : ...

   So in this year I learned that it was I who saw it as a mess but it was he who had memorized it (but never felt
he needed to explain it).; he captured it in his head. It didnt need to be written down . 

  Secondly, i learned that in this long year, this "mess" has kept me in touch with him in the way a more scrupulously organized
inventory would not have: it has allowed me to pick up a piece of writing, here,.a letter there, ideas realized and discarded,
in a way that it brought me back to everything from our serendipitous meeting in 1948 to the present - a long trajectory -.
i have had the luxury to relive what have been the happiest years of my life. Alan was my soulmate,who with great delicacy helped me recover from World War II wounds and vice versa, with whom we parented three wonderful children, and for whom i was a muse, and ditto, vice versa...................... who can ask for more? Love, Lotte
THIS TRIBUTE WAS WRITTEN BY LOTTE MARCUS NOT ANINA MARCUS

Written for the Multiple Sclerosis Quality of Life Project (MSQLP) newsletter - June 2015
By Cynthia Nelson Guion

In Memory of:
Alan Richard Marcus
July 10, 1922 ~ May 5, 2015
Carmel Highlands, CA

Alan Richard Marcus, 92 years old, whose life was dedicated to the arts and who was also a passionate advocate for social justice, passed away unexpectedly on May 5th at 5:25 AM. He suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage that came with no warning and no pain.

A Carmel Highlands resident since 1955, he was loved and is mourned by his wife and frequent collaborator of 63 years, psychologist Dr. Lotte Marcus, as well as his three adult children, Naomi Beth, Anina Ruth, and David Jonathan, son-in-law Colin Campbell, daughter-in-law Barbara Hall, three grandchildren, Gabriel Joseph, Ana Sofia and Jonathan Alan, brother-in-law Marvin Okanes, and two nephews, Jonathan and Paul Okanes.

(Excerpt from the Monterey Herald online obituary, which may be read in full at http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/montereyherald/obituary.aspx?pid=174860692)

Dear MSQLP and Friends,

It is with an apology for a slight delay, as well as some sadness, that I write this note to contribute to MSQLP’s June newsletter. The announcement above may not come as a surprise to those of you who have recently been in touch with Dr. Lotte Marcus, her family or friends. At Gene Harter’s request and with Dr. Lotte’s permission to “go for it”, I have been asked to let the MSQLP family and friends know that Dr. Lotte’s husband, Alan, passed away recently. Whether or not you knew Alan personally, there is no doubt that he touched your life and that of each and every individual who has been in contact with MSQLP.

As most of you are aware, Dr. Lotte Marcus was the inspiration, first President and a founding member of the non-profit organization that became the Multiple Sclerosis Quality of Life Project, growing (not without pains) from the grassroots efforts of Dr. Lotte and other individuals, who shared the common denominator of multiple sclerosis. There is more than one person who worked tirelessly to create what eventually became the 501(c)3 organization known as MSQLP today. Some became founding members, others contributed advice or knowledge, and yet others shared their personal histories, spearheaded fundraising efforts or performed any task necessary to further efforts to serve the MS community and friends.

Alan Marcus is one of those whose name will not be found on the formative documents for MSQLP but whose strength of character –and opinion—dedicated research, ready advice, stalwart support and (in spite of his immense frustration at times with the plodding pace and endless discussions) effervescent humour, were as instrumental in moving MSQLP forward –or as Alan would say, “getting down to brass tacks”— as filing the Articles of Incorporation, submitting the federal exempt application, hiring the first social worker and all subsequent hallmark moments.

In remembrance, I submit this excerpt from an e-mail Alan sent me in 2010, when an “MSQLP round” (of discussions) had erupted. It is one of my favorites—his usual acerbic, tongue-in-cheek analysis has only been edited to protect the names of the innocent (and others):

“It has always bemused me that there's frequently ---at the start of people-helping projects ---what Alan Greenspan (who these days is running for cover!) once called, in relationship to the stock market, "irrational exuberance" –- i.e. lots of happy expectations & hopes, an inclination to just go out and to do it, before one has truly thought everything through. The needs assessment, which everyone seems to [be] proud of, certainly required lots of careful work to complete. But it's not secret that its statistical conclusions came from facts and assumptions, which were largely known before hand. Its main value was as a device to raise money with; i.e. to demonstrate to potential donors that QLP was for "real." I.E., could point to stuff which had been "scientifically" measured, and which "proved" there was an urgent need to help people. Everyone out to get grants --and that has included me in various past incarnations ---has to pander to the American penchant for counting and measuring over & over again stuff which, in fact, is either already known, or--because of its very nature ---simply can't be measured, exclamation point! The only thing we learned that we weren't sure about before in QLP's needs assessment was that people wanted to stay in their own homes, didn't want new kinds of collective housing, didn't want to be stigmatized that way etc. Big discovery! But it "validated" QLP in the eyes of potential donors. And this continual necessity of, in effect, re-inventing the wheel by means of measuring what's going on (including things which simply defy organized measurement!) is something people prefer not to talk about. They certainly don't like to discuss the things which lie far below the surface of the ways people are suffering, and the "discoveries" made through counting heads etc. Well, you know all that.“
 
       “I wish you every good thing in your new re-incarnation in Texas and I'm sure you'll be sending communiques to Lotte from time to time who'll share them with me. So arriba y adelante, verdad?” All best ---Alan

For those of you who knew Alan, you will no doubt be comforted by his daughter Anina’s words--and will not be able to resist a smile (and conjure up an image of Alan with that somewhat devilish twinkle in his eye, beret tilted at a jaunty angle, getting ready to deliver yet another zinger):

“He was working on the rewrite of his latest book Journey South up until the end doing what he loved and what he cared about in a place of beauty in his own home…there is also a huge exhale knowing that my dad went peacefully, no prolonged drawn out affair.. very unlike my dad.. who is a big drama king.. but his death was the most peaceful thing I have ever seen.”

If anyone would like to send condolences to Dr. Lotte and family, get to know Alan better, or share an Alan memory; please don’t miss the special place his family has created, where Alan himself stars in the most remarkable screenplay he has written—his own life story. In her note, Dr. Lotte expressed:

“…because of the suddenness of this event, my adult children and especially I, yearn to hear from you about any memories, recollections, or snapshots of Alan that occur to you. Anina has created a memorial page at forevermissed.com, where you may share thoughts, stories, photos, or movies: http://www.forevermissed.com/alan-richard-marcus/#about

“Contributions in his memory may be made to your local library. If you would please let us know of any such library contributions, we, in turn, will ship Alan’s latest books to the library as our co-donation, as Alan was disconsolate about the state of reading in our culture.”
 
“I will live off of my (our) and your memories. Thank you,
 Lotte and Naomi, Anina and David.”

In closing, I will add that like every other person who came in contact with Alan, I found that his shell might appear to have been crusty; but he was the kindest and gentlest of souls. In a piece he wrote, which is included at the end of a presentation Dr. Lotte gave on her experience as a Holocaust survivor, he quoted a character from Kurt Vonnegut’s “God Bless you, Mr. Rosewater” who is passing on injunctions for the future, “God dammit, babies…You’ve got to be kind.”

And then, Alan himself adds:
“To be kind? Is that all? My answer, unprovisionally, is: why not?! For despite everything---despite the well-known terrors & terrorists of yesterday and today, (and, most certainly, alas, tomorrow); despite the intolerable details of the Holocaust sagas we’ve been revisiting over the years—we ought to try, I think, to keep fiercely imagining –& trying to believe in– the sheer redemptive possibilities—the transformative power—of mere, ordinary, everyday, one-on-one human kindness! And while we’re at it, we might as well pretend to live as though we were all, perhaps, part of some vast, hidden, open-ended conspiracy, striving to spread this precious attribute–lone antidote to gratuitous mad-made cruelty & suffering–as far and wide as possible…”

And because Alan deserves to have the final word in this–and because he, Dr. Lotte and I have poetry in common–may you all be kind and touched by the kindness of others, may your work with or support from MSQLP remind you daily that there are others who share or can learn from your experience. Here’s to kindness, and here’s to finding the holy spark that causes your flame to burn as brightly as Alan’s–

"Praise the labyrinth of sighs
Praise the fire in the skys
Praise the arrow in its ark
Praise the leaper in the dark.. Praise the blessed point of poise which makes gold of dull alloys and which finds for every flame its holy spark..and which finds for every flame its holy spark... 
by alan marcus

Here’s where we raise our glasses and say: “I’ll toast to that!” and “Thank you, Alan!

[December 2015 postscript:
Dear Dr. Lotte, Anina, Naomi and David--
Thinking of you all this holiday season and sending best wishes for the coming year. While Alan is missed, the torch he has passed burns brightly--and given recent world events, the admonition to be kind seems particularly necessary and pertinent today.--Cyndi]

Dear Naomi,

It is Christmas Eve day. For some reason, I found myself remembering your father and decided to surf the internet, where I learned just now of his passing last May.
I still vividly remember an evening with you and your parents at your beautiful woodsy home in Carmel Highlands in 1978, just before I left for the Peace Corps. In the "backstage" setting of that remarkable house, I thoroughly enjoyed the conversation. Immediately after, I read two of your father's books, and shared them with many people. I lost those books (and everything else) in the Oakland fire in 1991 but later replaced them. Plan to reread them now. May Alan's spirit soar! I'm privileged to have known him, and you. Hugs to you and your mother. David Whitman, San Jose

Dear Lotte and family,
While Dana and I shared some thoughts upon notice of Alan's passing, we have just discovered this wonderful site of many beautiful tributes to Alan as a partner and a parent, as a friend, a writer, an artist, a politico, and so much more. Just seeing how Alan touched so many people affirms Dana's and my memories of his strong presence that included a mix of keen focus on an issue at hand with his humor and sometimes acerbic wit.  Dana and I will remember some of our early meetings as we settled in the Salinas Valley after meeting in the United Farm Workers movement and connecting with Lotte and Alan in what would become periodic intersections at political rallies, demonstrations, and house meetings. 
Lotte, our thoughts are with you and your children as we know these days must be full of emptiness and the pain of loss of your longtime partner, husband, and friend, but we also know that you carry a rich catalogue of not only memories, but also Alan's extensive writings that we hope will provide a sense of his voice and presence that will come to provide solace and connection. 
We appreciate what you have shared as we appreciate your continued ability to look at the bigger world around us and raise your voice in a cry for justice and sanctuary for those who have been forced to flee from countries plagued by war. 
With a strong embrace and deep affection,
Bill Monning and Dana Kent

It would take more than a few words to describe how I remember Alan. However, what comes to mind is that Alan was always there for my wife, Zia, and me around election time. We would ask Alan his view on the many complicated state propositions, and he would always give his unique studied viewpoint. I miss you, Alan. Although you are still with us. After all these years of your judgements and background stories, I just think what would Alan say and I have my answer.

Oh happy day.. oh happy day... when you my dear dad would have turned 93 oy vey!!

DEAREST TREASURED DAD




  Alan Richard Marcus, my ever loving 92 year old died this morning at 5:30 at Community Hospital. Last night, my mom found him on the floor in his study unresponsive to any stimuli and a small amount of blood coming from his mouth. Paramedics and ambulance came and rushed him to emergency where an MD Grover? (I think) said he has suffered a massive hemorrhage and will not survive. He was put on comfort measures and has no pain till the end. He was,  working on the rewrite of his latest book Journey South up until the end doing what he loved and what he cared about in a place of beauty in his own home.. Surreal is hardly the word for what I feel right now.. it is a deep ache, a deep longing.. a deep understanding that nothing will ever be the same again without my dad...... but there is also a huge exhale knowing that my dad went peacefully, no prolonged drawn out affair.. very unlike my dad.. who is a big drama king.. but his death was the most peaceful thing I have ever seen. Naomi, Lotte and I went to the morgue in the hospital and there he was: cold, blue, white, jaw tight and open. His skin looked beautiful and I held his hand and said: "Dad you would have loved the stories the nursing supervisor told us about other people she has accompanied to the morgue including a Buddhist who chanted and danced around the hospital for 3 hours and she swears the hospital was calmer.  I thank you dad for this rich and complicated life you gave me.. You were the coolest cat and way cool without even knowing it. The beret just added to your look but you were just as cool without it.... "



Dad: Soulful, deeply loving, wildly original,  intensely passionate.

You had bouts of tremendous anger and rage and yet you were astoundingly kind and generous. A natural loner, who dug into your crab like study and stayed for hours to work; but, you also craved so much attention.. it was almost impossible to ever fill you up.  Truest lover to the world of the Arts and a deep devotion and dedication to the written and spoken word.

You could be so damn funny.. a la Lenny Bruce and within the same breath show a lot of sadness towards the way things were going in the world.

Your curiosity about every little thing to how machines work, to hummingbirds, to politics, to justice but most of all to the details of peoples lives. You would stop whatever you were doing most anytime to hear The story.. to see how things go... You turned me onto the great jazz artists of the 50's.. but also you loved The Beatles and Johnny Cash and Edith Piaf and Mahalia Jackson.. The list goes on and on..

Travel light my friend in Peace. I am with you. I want to quote from one of your all time favorite songs:


the water's wide I can't swim o,er                                              

And nor have I the wings to fly

Build me a boat that can carry two

And both shall row, my love and I


Now love is gentle, love is kind

It's like a flower when first it's new

But love grows old and waxes cold

And fades away like morning dew


There is a ship, she sails the sea

She's laden deep, as deep can be

But not as deep as the love I'm in

I know not where I'll sink or swim


The water's wide I can't swim o'er

And nor have I the wings to fly

Build me a boat that can carry two

And both shall row, my love and I





love to you all, anina
hold fast to this life....

I met Alan roughly 20 years ago when Lottie and he came (along with 4 or 5 others) to my house in Pacific Grove for monthly meetings. We were trying to figure out how best to help folks with Multiple Sclerosis in our local area (I have MS.) Alan and Lottie both knew the local MS population was under served – but what to do? How could we help? What kind of help? We tried collaborating with San Jose Chapter of the National MS Society. That did not really work. Alan was firm (and so logical) in his belief that we should do the implementation/fundraising and management ourselves. Alan was right and that’s what we did. We had a survey of multiple sclerosis patients done. Lottie got some initial funding and the little Non-Profit (www.MSQLP.org) that we created is still helping MS’ers some 15 years later. I will always remember him with admiration.

In a handwritten note, Joan Baez wrote:
Dear Marcuses,
Alan was an integral part of that magnificent community of artists, writers, musicians, poets, madmen and madwomen, which made up Carmel Highlands and the surrounding universe.
I particularly appreciate how kind and supportive he was to Mimi, recognizing the gifted musician she was, helping her find her inner strength in the fragile world around her...
I hope you are all coming to terms with the loss of Alan and life with his spirit only. There will always be the absence of his presence, and the eternal presence of his absence......
With great affection, Joan Baez

I first met Alan as he was manning the control panel on a Dominican Hospital (Santa Cruz, CA) elevator ("what floor?") , on our coincident ways to see Naomi. At the time I was a poor person's lawyer working with immigrants and farmworkers in the Salinas Valley.
I was trying to act (community theatre), trying to write (poetry, plays) , trying to play music (piano, sax, guitar), trying to learn Spanish, and in love with science, math, chickens, and the Carmel Coast.
   And there was Alan, in the very same elevator with me, an award winning writer, a real musician (perfect pitch! my god!), an actual flesh and blood artist who loved science, knew his calculus, fought for immigrant justice, loved chickens, spoke five languages, lived on the Carmel Coast AND was asking me where I wanted to go. I say this about Alan, but Alan was never Alan alone. Lotte, you were there too, going up to see Naomi. Alan was always only one half of the entity we know as "Alan and Lotte". It was "Alan and Lotte" that took us into a life of the mind, of thought, of articulated concern, of music, writing, outrage, overflowing bookshelves, poetry, ping pong, exotic chickens, highland gardens, hidden beaches, aspic, "little lunches", and always "Where have you been?" "Where are you going?", and, for me, at least, the assurance that I had been somewhat close to where I needed to have been and had the stuff to go where I wanted. I saw Alan's death in Anne's voice when she took Naomi's call. I felt Alan's death only when Anne said "Alan is dead." "What?" "Alan is dead." "That's not possible." "No. Yes." "Can't be. How can that be..." as if a part of my body had been torn away. Now there is a bloody confusing hole where Alan had been. But "Alan and Lotte" survives and that is the greater part of me. We hope to see you soon.
Jonathan McCurdy

For the short amount of time I spent with Alan, he was unforgettable.
I remember him fussing with the internet, playing the piano, eating a wonderful meal together, and sitting at his desk, writing and writing. His stories were engrossing and his laugh, contagious. My heart goes out to you Lotte and Anina for you loss. Sending love to you at this time.

I am so sad to have learned Alan passed away.
Rachel and I spent a weekend with Alan and Lotte last year, which was such a wonderful and significant moment for us. Alan's energy, wisdom and convictions, his relationship to Lotte and to the rest of the family, all are things that we will keep with us for the rest of our lives. All my thoughts are with Lotte and their children.

What a privilege to have known Alan Marcus. And how generous he was to those of us who make art in any form. He always made time for us, never ever seeming to ‘make time’--to take seriously what we brought to him and to offer gentle suggestions and even praise, but only when he thought our work deserved that praise.
Would it be an over-statement to say that Alan knew everything?
Probably. So how about most everything. Let’s face it, he was always the smartest person in the room. Here’s to Alan Marcus, a good man I will never forget. Tom Parks, Carmel

In my opinion Alan was a beacon of positivity and comfort as a soul. I was only blessed to know him for the past few years however during that time I was able to witness his deep love for, and generosity toward humanity. He was always available to answer the phone, a question, address a concern, write a letter to help someone, lend an ear, tell a story, offer a dvd of his tv shows, give you a book, poem, or article he wrote, or to play you a song on the piano to celebrate a moment. He was to us, a MIGHTY and benevolent being with a world of wonders to offer, even in the briefest of encounters. Of all the things that stand out about such a celebrated war hero and magnificent person the one that shines to me was the love and protective nature he showered upon his wife and kids. Alan was the first to brag about something his daughters or son did. He appeared as the balancing counterpart to the humble Dr. Marcus always trying to be the first one to tell about a battle she had won, or the fight she was taking up for someone. He continued until his very end to make his wife blush with his boasting of her deeds. He must have told me about courting her a half a dozen times, always adding in some new detail about her beauty, smile, or strength. When I was near Alan he was always seemed to be showering someone with his proud feelings about what they had accomplished.
Dr. Marcus said in an email addressing his passing that she felt he held on as long as he did to finish his writing. I also felt he held on so long because he loved the mischievous smile and glint in the eyes that Dr. Marcus gets when she has discovers from within that she is about to take on a larger more ominous force for the good of someone else. I believe he held onto to be near her for this and many other great adventures.
It was his love and strength that we saw and admired as we drove away from the Marcus’s house the last time we saw him. He was standing tall adoring his wife and likely saying how proud he was of her in her ear. They were standing on their side porch. He had his arm around Dr. Marcus as they looked out over their garden and watched us drive away. They had hosted us for brunch and had filled my family with inspiration. The inspirations we took away from brunch were to do more for the world, remain socially aware, fight for justice, and read more. Every time I pulled away from the Marcus’s home I had the feeling that I wasn’t doing enough for the world. I was stunned that day to find that my entire family had the same feeling come over them without my ever having mentioned it before.
It was an amazing experience to know Alan and to see someone who lived so fully from the inside out. In his honor I know that we will always aspire to be greater and to have more meaning in life!!

Oooooo, Naomsky!
What a pain!
What a great Man. I wish we knew before what a treasure we were happened to meet
- just once, on our root with both kids over California cost, where we had stayed one night
inside a travel wagon, sleeping under stars, as the roof could be lifted...Unforgettable!!
This whole stay was so-so-so beautiful altogether - hard to find words to describe,
so we were using just russian way describing total happiness and excitement - какой Кайф!
And of was all provided by an old man - Дедушка, who we called among ourselves
Дедушка Кайф.

Later, every time we remembered about this visit, we were referring to it like "when we will get back into a dream? Go visit Dedushka Kaif !!"
Would so much love to return to that time, to visit back with your beautiful Father -
Artist and Educator.
Now it is much more clear why You are so talented ! - as a musician , singer and
human being.
Our Love is with all your Family, Nina Belyaeva, Moscow, Russia