When I was a college kid, just discovering the folk community, and bumming around the northeast US between college semesters, I stayed once or twice at the Folk-Legacy barn/duplex/studio. Unlike folk festivals, where conversations all tend to be on folk-related subjects, those visits gave opportunities to talk about other things, to discover other aspects of my hosts' lives. I learned about fine wines (Imagine! Owning a vine or two in a vinyard, and having a case of wine from your own vinyard sent to you in the fall. Wow.), problems of owning a beautiful home (algae removal that wouldn't kill the pond), strategies in playing the "dictionary game", and much more. He was the first person I met in the folk community who was vital to that community, but wasn't a performer, coffee house owner, etc. Over time, I found myself ever more often in those vital, invisible jobs, and thanks to him, I already knew that there was joy and satisfaction in a job well done for those of us who don't get our names on the front of the albums, or on the festival posters. Lee probably never thought of himself as a teacher, but he taught by the best, most difficult method; by example, with no way of knowing that he had students. I hope I learned well. The world felt better, just knowing he was in it, even though we hadn't visited in a long time. He was both a gentle man and a gentleman.