Dear
friends of Barney, co-workers, and family:Dear
friends of Barney, co-workers, and family:
On behalf of the Levenspiel family, I would like to say thank you for joining us here at the Fellowship to honor and remember Barney, our brother, son, friend, and co-worker. For all the support, prayers, and kind thoughts that have been received. We're sincerely grateful – thank you.…..
I am Barney's little brother and younger brother, Morris. I wanted to let you know that our gathering here today was definitely not Part of Barney’s plan. He had no intention of dying, thus his passing, apparently in his sleep, came as a surprise. Many of you know Barney had chronic kidney disease, a genetic condition that runs in our family, but no one, especially Barney, considered death a possibility. In February Barney had undergone a kidney transplant and while there were complications, he had every intention of overcoming them. He had a plan.
He joined a health club in June to work out and get strong, he was planning a long sabbatical from work to enjoy his pending freedom from a dialysis machine and to travel the world. A trip to Nova Scotia, where his relatives first came to the United States, with his Mother the genealogist, was being planned. On his computer screensaver flashed the beaches of the world. Barney was going to beat his disease. Barney’s life was not about his medical problems. As his dear friend, neighbor and daily dog walking companion, Greta said, “Barney was special, he did not wear his medical problems on his sleeve. He was not one of those people who you tired of because they had become one with their problems. He was always interested in others, always interested in “you.”
To Barney, kidney dialysis was just a “drag.” It was not a New Age window of opportunity. It was, as he noted in his 20-year high school reunion update (ya know, the "what have you been doing?”) 12,800 hours of being hooked to a machine. He learned, read, and studied all there is to know about his disease and managed his healthcare throughout his life till even his own doctors would “do as Barney directed.” In the 1980’s, Barney received a portable kidney dialysis machine, a gift from his co-workers at Labo, who had all taken payroll deductions to purchase it for him. (How about that for a healthcare plan—people taking care of each other!) This they hoped would give him the flexibility to work at home and allow him to travel to Japan where he was missed.
More recently, Barney was Beta patient number One for the Aksys Company, testing a new home dialysis system that promises to revolutionize patient care. As the President of Aksys wrote:
Barney was the first patient to dialyze on the Aksys Personal Hemodialysis System. He worked hand-in-hand with our clinician and technicians toward assuring the final commercial unit was “user friendly.” Throughout the long clinical trial, he patiently answered questions from patients around the world about his experience on this revolutionary new system. He was an immense contributor for the therapy. He did a terrific job and demonstrated a tremendous amount of class and moxie. His willingness to try new things will benefit many people with end stage renal disease. His legacy will live on.
Laurie Carlson, the head study nurse in his transplant program, an opportunity he had waited years for, writes:
He was a truly inspiring man, especially how he lived with his chronic disease. The staff and physicians at UCSF send their love and sympathy. He touched all of their lives. To a person, everyone said he was the nicest man, an amazing man.
This is the man they came to know who was my brother, my big brother Barney...who I will never forget.
As a child I remember my brother in so many ways, I remember...
Sharing a room with Barney. He would wake me by pulling my comforter off my bed. Unlike most kids, Barney was a morning person. He liked to get up early. He enjoyed cooking breakfast especially with his grandfather. At an early age he would cook dinner for the family—dirtying every pot, pan, and dish in the kitchen—purposefully leaving a huge mess on my nights to do dishes.
Barney, Bekki, and I would spend endless summers at Otter Rock—where his ashes will be spread—building log rafts, swimming, and playing. Barney would get brown—dark brown as he spent all his summer days on the beach. He loved the water and was an excellent swimmer.
Barney was always bigger and taller than me but I don’t recall him being physical with me. I don’t have memories of the poundings many younger brothers are subjected to. Of course, he did pour a pot of boiling water on me and would occasionally pin me down for spit torture when I was extremely bratty.
As many of you have noted in your memories, Barney was a voracious reader. He read multiple books at a time all throughout his life. Barney’s penmanship was perfect, and he kept journals. Words were important to him and far more effective at getting at his brother than a punch.
As we grew older, I became aware that Barney was unique and different. In middle school years he was large and awkward, in high school he was tall. He was ribbed by others and I recall feeling protective of him.
I remember when I was in junior high I would be waiting with my all too-cool friends for the bus, when Barney would come riding by on an old English bicycle, leather satchel on his back with an outfit of Austrian lederhosen shorts and straps on. I would be cringing inside hoping he wouldn’t wave as he often did...Barney was unique in many ways. Barney was very intelligent and book-smart but he wasn’t a “know it all.” Barney skipped a grade.
Barney was in theater and Barney was a folk dancer. I would watch both Bekki and Barney dance as Hoolyeh Folk dancers—watch them practice, dance, laugh, and enjoy. As a cool 9th-grader I only watched not danced. As in many aspects of our lives, Barney led the way.
Later in life, I came to know Barney as an individual and adult. I learned he was not about being “different” it was about being oneself. I learned that Barney was a fantastic musician—sing a song and he could pick it on a violin. As well as an ear for music, he had an ear for languages and seemed to know several of them.
A very non-materialistic person throughout his lifetime, he once lived on a commune and worked in a co-op, depriving himself of what most of you and I consider necessities. Barney was not a consumer. Despite his frugalness, he was exceedingly generous, thoughtful, and giving. He had an exquisite knack for thinking of the perfect gift, gesture, or thoughtful act.
I learned that Barney was a weekend punk rocker and loved to turn up the dance music. You see I spent a summer at Barney’s flat in San Francisco—the summer of the Knack. He took me dancing (oh yes, I learned it was ok even fun to dance). We were able to spend 2 weeks together before he went to Lopez island for a summer camp where he worked. I remember before he left me in San Francisco, he told me, “Morris, have a good summer and be sure not to date any women with more hair on their arms then you have.” It was the summer of 1978.
As close as I felt to Barney, he also was gone for long periods of our lives. In his early years in Japan, we did not keep in close contact—just an occasional family get together or him passing through the airport always leaving a piece of him at my place—his mandolin, a picture, his suitcase, etc. After his adoption of Japanese culture, I would tell people before they met him that “My brother’s Japanese and yes, my father is Chinese,” but that’s another story.
While recovering from his transplant in San Francisco I got the chance to sit in Barney’s home office and help him with his work. He was in San Francisco and I was in Seattle. His desk, work, and affairs were very organized. He was very specific about doing things right. As I opened his email and mail, I was amazed at how many people worldwide, he was assisting, directing, and coordinating. One small example of his work is illustrated by this email received from Robbie Munn and her son Quentin on Prince Edwards Island:
We came to know Barney only through his emails concerning one Japanese child staying at our home during the past summer. As it turned out, this boy was autistic. It was very challenging experience caring for this boy and he required close supervision. I could not face the prospect of having to return him to his parents, so with Barney’s help we worked out a plan to manage his behaviors and keep him on PEI. I was very grateful for Barney's understanding and assistance especially since I am a single mother and had few support systems for a problem of this magnitude. Today my son, Quentin, left for Japan. He is the only child to go with the homestay program from Prince Edward Island…ever, and the youngest to travel. Barney was instrumental in helping me provide this important experience for my son by approving a special grant to help with the cost of the trip. The Labo experience is a huge step toward helping him become a citizen of the world, something I hope will be some small contribution to a future in which his own worldmindedness will make a difference to others in some small way.
Finally, it is impossible to remember Barney without his dog Lilly by his side. Barney and I both have dogs and often shared our love for them. Walking the dogs with Barney in Seattle, Otter Rock, Corvallis, and Portland, are some of my fondest memories. Lilly and Barney were a pair, constantly talking to each other and discussing the day. Lilly was his dialysis companion, his reason to walk twice every day, and lover of all his cooking. Lilly, named after his grandmother, another very important person in Barney’s life, was his loyal, faithful companion and she survives him. She will be outside after the reception for those that would like to say hi to her. Barney, please know we will all love Lilly and care for her as you did.
In closing, I would like to say Barney-san, we miss you, we love you, and we will never forget you. I love you and always will. Good night sweet prince, brother, son, friend. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.