Kevin didn’t put up with bullshit, and there was certainly enough of that floating around the Higher Institute Philosophy in Louvain during our time there to keep him fully occupied. Those who were sincere about philosophy found him to be a dear and supportive friend; others – the game players and flatterers – he had little use for. His intellectual honesty and straight shooting was a challenge to all of us. Kevin liked challenges; this is what led him to get his doctorate, which he did on the philosophy of Michel Foucault. Everyone thought it was so tragic that this great thinker should die so young at the age of 58. Kevin joked that if Foucault had lived longer he would have written more, which would have meant more work to complete the thesis. The joke doesn't seem so funny today.
Kevin never wanted to teach. Life as an academic had no attraction for him. He found the world of business to be more challenging and certainly far more rewarding. Today, when my students ask what you can do with a philosophy degree other than teach, I tell them about Kevin. He was happy to share his success with his friends. He was wonderfully generous. I visited him in Ghent on my way to Paris in the summer of 1997. He prepared a fine supper with good wine but chose okra as a vegetable. Okra? Who eats okra? I haven’t had it before and I haven’t had it since, but every time I see it I think of Kevin and a fine night spent in Ghent. That night he showed me the town and then insisted on calling Paris to arrange for a three star hotel for me. “It’s trivial,” he said over my protests putting an end to that argument. He had a way of winning arguments and a wonderful capacity with language which came from his voracious reading, never fiction, always non-fiction, mostly history. I would be embarrassed to tell him of the latest spy novel sitting on my bed stand but loved it when he would expand upon notables such as Henry Kissinger, skewering them with his acid tongue as only Kevin could do.
Kevin, you accomplished a lot in a very short time. You are an inspiration to me. I hope I am able to live up to your standards. I miss you and will always remember you.
Don LeBlanc
Philosophy Department
University of Massachusetts Lowell