Leon Rauch

Leon Rauch, master joke-teller, math teacher to thousands, friend to everyone he met, passed away in his home January 21, 2018, surrounded by his daughter, his son-in-law, and his constant canine companion, who all loved him for reasons both shared and deeply personal. Born November 13, 1937, in Lincoln, Arkansas, to Clyde and Hope (Leach) Rauch, Leon was a true boy of the Ozarks. He lived the first decade of his life without indoor plumbing or electricity, and yet never felt poor—in large part because his parents were models of hard work and resilience. Leon helped his dad, an Army veteran and farmer, raise chickens and cows, and also helped support the family income with multiple odd jobs as soon as he was old enough to work. As the youngest of three children, he was adored by his mother and two sisters. Leon frequently told people that as hard as he worked his mother and sisters worked even harder—allowing him time to play in the woods while they sewed all the family's clothes, cooked meals from scratch, canned vegetables from the garden, and even made the family's soap. He loved the outdoors as a child, swimming in every Ozark creek within walking distance. He learned to shoot guns and enjoyed it, but was never comfortable shooting anything that breathed. He could skip rocks across a pond with a magic touch and knew the difference between the type of snake you backed away from and the type you should befriend. His mother, who taught multiple grades in a one-room schoolhouse, encouraged his early love of reading and emphasized the importance of schoolwork; all three of her children knew her expectation for them was a college degree. Leon earned a bachelor of mathematics from the University of Arkansas--driving to class each day from the family farm and working multiple jobs while attending school full-time. He spent every spare moment on campus, as well as a significant amount of time he should have been in class, shooting pool in the student union, and he attended every Razorback sporting event he could. After graduating from UA, Leon served four years as a Professor of Military Science and Tactics in the U.S. Army. His specialty was the operation of heavy artillery from moving vehicles—both on the ground and in the air—and he earned a reputation as the sharpest shooter in his unit. After leaving the army in 1962, Leon taught high school math in Arkansas for several years before deciding to pursue graduate school. He used a VA grant to attend the University of Oklahoma, where he earned a master's degree in mathematics and taught courses as a graduate assistant instructor, when he wasn't playing tennis, shooting pool, or schooling people at ping-pong. It was at OU where Leon met the love of his life, Margaret Mannix, a fellow graduate assistant in the math department. He described her as the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. Margaret also happened to be a Catholic nun, from an Irish family in Massachusetts. She was as proper as he was spontaneous. She was as devout as he was questioning, and she was as serious and organized as he was adventurous and scattered. Yet the attraction was mutual. After meeting Margaret, two of Leon's nephews summed up the thoughts of many, as they whispered to each other in astonishment that Leon, of all people, actually managed to persuade a nun to leave the convent. Margaret and Leon were married in 1974 and spent the first summer as newlyweds living out of a tent and hiking the Ozark Mountains. They secured teaching jobs in Northwest Arkansas and welcomed daughter Leah a year later. In 1979, they moved to Texas after Leon accepted a teaching position at Texarkana College. Margaret taught at PGISD for two years but then joined Leon as a TC math professor, becoming an exception to the school's policy of not hiring family members of current professors. As the then department-head explained, people thought Leon was impressive, and then they met Margaret—who truly was unforgettable. Margaret and Leon taught the full-range of math courses offered at TC, from developmental math to advanced calculus. For 24 years they had offices at opposite ends of the hallway, and they quickly earned reputations for teaching excellence. Leon could become so immersed in teaching that he did not realize he was covered in chalk. He was known to jump onto tables while proving theorems, all to help make a point. But he was best known for his jokes. Any student could attest—he was as committed to keeping classes entertained as he was to teaching them math. His favorite students were those who laughed easily and who requested jokes. He taught at TC for 30 years, and after retirement he worked part-time for several years at the school's Pinkerton Center, where he tutored students at no charge. Leon never met a person in need whom he did not try to help. Whether a stranger on the street with a sign or a student struggling to pay for a textbook, he gave money freely. He mowed the lawns of neighbors, brought firewood that he chopped himself to single mothers, and planted extra rows in his garden for neighbors and postal carriers. He always stopped the car for an animal that might be lost, and, much to his family's concern, when travelling alone always offered a ride to anyone in need. He drove strangers wherever they needed to go, no matter how far out of his way. He was a proud father who supported every one of his daughter's decisions without question, except for her decision to attend the University of Texas, but he came on board with that one, too. Leah not only felt her father's adoration, she felt his devotion, and even fell in love with the man she married, in part, because she knew her father loved him, too. Leon cherished his grandchildren, Daniel and Olivia. He marveled at Olivia's theatrical talents and enjoyed listening to her developing skill with the trumpet—the instrument he excelled at playing in high school. He most especially soared when telling people about Daniel, who has recently made tremendous progress in his journey overcoming autism. His most prized possession was the letter Daniel typed for him this past Christmas. As much as he loved his daughter and her family, Leon's greatest love was Margaret, who died unexpectedly last June. When he looked at her, he saw only beauty and grace. He tried to live without her. He had recently moved to Colleyville to be near Leah, and his last months were full of many wonderful moments. But his heart ached at her absence, and when he fell recently in his home, the sadness he felt about her absence made recovery just too difficult, though he tried so valiantly for the sake of his grandkids most of all. Leon was a giant among men, a model of humility, and an example of how every person should treat the people around them. Leon was predeceased by his parents and two sisters, Mary Christian (Texarkana, AR), and Virginia Council, of (Kansas City, MO). He is survived by daughter Leah and her husband Darren Clark, grandchildren Daniel and Olivia, (all of Colleyille, TX); brother-in-law Earl Christian (Texarkana, AR), brother-in-law Frank Council (Kansas City, MO), brother-in-law Mike Mannix (Wilbraham, MA), several nieces and nephews, and his beloved dog Rainey, who was curled up next to him in his last moments. An outdoor service will take place at Calvary Cemetery 2:00 PM on Monday, January 29, 2018. His family would like for anyone wishing to honor him to please attend. In lieu of flowers, the family asks those who knew Leon to express their love for others a bit more often, to forgive others a bit more freely, and to cheer for the Razorbacks as loudly as they can. Register online @www.chapelwoodfuneralhome.com