I was traveling along the Pacific Coast, in my Mazda GLC, headed to Vancouver. I stopped in an American Youth Hostel in Port Orford, Oregon. After dinner, I was talking to a woman (I seem to recall that her name was Lydia)

Where are you from? Toledo.
Really. I used to work there.
Really? Where did you work?
Medical College of Ohio.
Which department?
Psychiatry.
Interesting, my father works there.
I could swear she looked at me more closely, and figured it out - but it probably didn't happen that way. But she definitely knew Marv.
Your father.... she said.
She described how great he was as a teacher (she was not a medical student, but had worked with him). She described, too, how they had had a criminal who had remained stone-walled in sessions with all other therapists; and Marv had gotten him to start talking.

For me, it was one of the only pieces of evidence that I have, about Marv's work career. He rarely talked about it. And I don't know his colleagues, any longer. I suppose I could find them.