This piece was originally written in September of 2019 and read as an edited speech on 18 September 2019 at Whitman College in Walla Walla, WA during a memorial service for Kyle Martz.
Kyle Martz, photo courtesy of Harmony Burright
I have 6-10 minutes, which is hard, because how can you fit a whole life in that amount of time? But I understand the limitation, I’m not bitter. I was just panicking because - even Kyle knew this - I never shut up.
Let’s start from the beginning. Kyle Martz. 35. Same birthday as one of my sisters and my late boyfriend’s dad. Funny. Sarcastic. Kind. Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street. Iconic beard and hair - or rather, lack thereof. Working 24/7 and dedicating himself to it 225%. You know him.
I first met Kyle in 2014 at a GLBTQ meeting. He flagged me down and sort of called, “You. Come here.” You know, in that Kyle way. And I was 17 and small and sensitive so I immediately thought, I have transgressed against this mighty man oh god what did I do? Think about it: he was taller than me, not by much, but enough to count, he had that big beard, all in flannel even in the end of October heat, and I was just floored. And he saw that and laughed that laugh from his belly where he threw his head back to let it out and smiled, which changed his whole face. He told me he had some resources for me in town that I might benefit from if I checked them out. And that was that. Even before he really knew me he was watching out for me. Because that’s the kind of person Kyle was.
Our relationship really kicked off my second year of school, when. Sure, I saw him around campus and kept in touch with him after our initial interaction but, I became the GLBTQ intern my second year with a dear friend of mine, answering and we answered to Kyle. This is all very significant because The two of us were coming from very difficult summers - she had personal woes and my boyfriend had died (some of you may remember that student firefighter). So, anyway, instead of the usual platitudes of, Don’t hesitate to contact me or I’m here if you need me - which I know people genuinely mean, but I’m sure you’re all finding out that in the face of loss, those words get swept up in the sea of grief. Kyle instead said something along the lines of you two are responsible for the queer student body. And I’m responsible for you. And he took that to heart, like he did with everything else in his life.
Cue one of the most whirlwind years where Kyle and I somehow also appropriated a wonderful international student as our joint mentee. Everyone who’s trying to keep a straight face that knows me and knew him, you’re allowed to smile, or even laugh. We’ve got grumpy bear 80-year-old on the inside staff member on one hand, and sarcastic and small 80-year-old on the inside student on the other hand mentoring a first year student who doesn’t even live here. The circumstances just brought us closer together, to be honest. I got to see Kyle in all his gentle, generous glory. Just dealing with not one mentee but two because I was included in that, was wild. I mean, he worked a lot, which is something that still sticks out in my mind because his job was so important to him--, not because it was his dream job, but because he loved working with the students and making a difference in their lives was what he was born to do. Kyle helped me through my grief during that time. He was always willing to just listen, which so many of us need and know can be hard to find someone to do just that. But though his ears were little, on the inside, they were big and could be filled with as many secrets as you needed them to be filled with.
That year cemented us as ‘friends even though that’s probably not the word we’re allowed to use because he’s staff and I’m a student’. Whatever, we were friends; he took care of me like a parent would, I’ll be honest, because I had no one here, and he just had that aura that screamed GIVE ME YOUR TIRED YOUR POOR YOUR HUDDLED MASSES like he was the Whitman Lady Liberty and would take us all and make sure we knew we had a home here. Now, imagine Kyle dressed as the statue of liberty - what a legacy.
And his legacy, with me at least, is the advice he gave me. And since he mentored me and worked so closely with me and befriended me, well, you all give your friends advice, right? I’ve got 5 pearly bits of wisdom from the man himself, who made all the mistakes he found joy in talking about and then swore me to secrecy over as so, and I quote, Don’t you dare tell anyone I told you this, I know where you live, and I will end you.
1. Calm down.
Anyone who goes to this school was probably notorious in their secondary schools for being balls of energy that overachieved and pushed themselves to the point of burnout. I can’t be the only one he said this to - it’s impossible. Sometimes he said it when I was panicking over nothing and he had that little snip in his voice. Sometimes he was a bit more gentle when it truly felt like the world was ending, because in our young lives, it truly felt like it was sometimes. Sometimes he was saying it to himself, but I’m always listening. I’m still trying to follow this one.
2. Take care of your dental health now while you still can.
You think I’m joking, but Kyle would miss meetings for dentist appointments and when we rescheduled he would scare the living daylights out of me just telling me where they were drilling. Fun fact: he was jealous of the ridiculous gap in my front teeth because, and he told me this, gaps let the saliva move freely between your teeth, cleaning them out and contributing to better dental hygiene. I sound like a dentist commercial. I think I inherited his dental health luck with this one, which means, I have no luck at all.
3. Google University is free.
He said this to me and Marlene so many times oh my gosh. In general, it basically meant more along the lines of, don’t be dumb look it up on the vast expanse of the interwebs because your generation never had to call a library and ask them to look up a phone-book of another city that hopefully had the operating times of their favorite restaurant in it. It was also in response to why have you asked me to pick you up from the airport in the rain when there’s a shuttle Mr. Fidalgo. In my defense I only did that once and Kathy Murray was there and had just become the president, so he looked really good, like exemplary staff member, okay. There’s a whole world of information at our fingertips and we can utilize it. He knew we were smart enough too, even if we didn’t know ourselves. He had faith enough for all of us.
4. Don’t drink alone.
Which I have gotten better at and absolutely only ever did when I hit 21, and no one can prove otherwise, him included. I think that one was about keeping your friends close, even when you don’t feel like you deserve them to be or don’t want them to be.
5. Don’t end up like me.
And this is the one piece of advice I never really liked. I know he didn’t mean it in the self-deprecating way that I took it. He was always saying that to me. And I would always scoff, “Too late.” I know Kyle sometimes felt like he had taken a few too many wrong turns in his life, and he just wanted everyone he cared about to get it right the first few times. I know before he died, he was getting it right, at least to me. But he’d always been getting it right. Maybe he didn’t get an advanced degree or have a six-figure job. But that meant we got to have him, and I’ll be selfish and say that was enough for me. I’ve been told many times, and each time I take it as the highest compliment, that I remind people of him and his attitude. I modeled a lot of my adult self on him, on his kindness, his no-nonsense attitude, his willingness to give of himself.
He always had this rule: he was staff, I was a student, and even though we were friends, no spending money on him because that just looks bad. So I made him so many things instead, cards for his birthday, to say thanks, doodles if he was having a bad day, and on one memorable occasion, a clay beer bottle and German flag key-chain just as an I thought of you gift. And because of that division, he refused to drink with me until I graduated. And I used to tell him all the time, you better keep your promise because the second I am liberated from this undergraduate existence, I’m dragging your ass to a bar. And he kept his promise, and so did I. But we were older and tired, so yeah, we went to the Green, and yeah we got a few beers each, but we also got food, and he did that thing where he listens to all your fears and then tells you to calm down, take care of your teeth, use Google, drink with friends, and not end up like him.
So the last time I physically saw him, it was almost 9 at night at the end of May, we were outside of Reid where I was going to walk home and he was going to drive, and we were saying goodbye. All of that I’m not crying in front of you, go away banter, and one of the few hugs we had where I can count on my fingers since we weren’t really huggy. And I remember I kept turning around to see him as I got farther and farther away, and he kept saying You’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, go. And I could already feel that distance stretching between us even though we were only a few feet away. Everything was changing. I didn’t want us to change. But he was a rock, and a stubborn one at that.
The last time I talked to Kyle was in May. He helped me with AmeriCorps, did that thing where he made me feel like I was better than I think I am. Called me smart, and capable, told me if I ever needed anything to reach out to him, it would be his pleasure, and honor, and I know he was at least 4 beers in. Said he was sorry about the delay because he was working late, again. Told me he missed me. I’m glad the last thing I said to him was that I missed him too. Because it’s true, and now it’ll always be true. There’s this word in Portuguese - I’m Portuguese, it’s not random, I promise - and it’s called saudade. There’s no real English word for it. It’s like homesickness on steroids for an absent place or person, for the thought of them, for everything they meant to you. The kicker is that the word is used when you specifically know they might never return to you or you to them. Eu tenho saudades de ti. That’s how you express it.
But Kyle’s language wasn’t Portuguese, it was German! And that was mine too. We would talk some massive gossip in German so people wouldn’t know, just fyi.
But here, I have some lines of verse from Reiner Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies to dish on you. I have a minor in German, I’d might as well use it. When else will I?
Aber weil Hiersein viel ist, und weil uns scheinbar alles das Hiesige braucht, dieses Schwindende, das seltsam uns angeht. Uns, die Schwindendsten. Ein Mal jedes, nur ein Mal. Ein Mal und nicht mehr. Und wir auch ein Mal. Nie wieder. Aber dieses ein Mal gewesen zu sein, wenn auch nur ein Mal: irdisch gewesen zu sein, scheint nicht widerrufbar.
If you’re not thoroughly wowed, here it is in English:
But because life here compels us, and because everything here Seems to need us, all this fleetingness, That strangely entreats us. Us, the most fleeting… Once for each thing, only once. Once and no more. And we too, Only once. Never again. But to have been once, even though only once: This having been earthly seems lasting, beyond repeal.
Kyle went into this life knowing that we only have the one. I’m sure he’d read Rilke before. In the space between inhaling and blowing out a candle flame with the same breath, people come into this world and they leave it. What you do with your time is what people remember. And what did Kyle do? He cared. He loved. He worked his tail off. The earth teaches us many things. With every new spring, she teaches us to bring life. With every new fall, she teaches us how it fades away. With every disaster, natural or otherwise, she teaches us that sometimes, just existing and being with the ones you care for is what being human is all about. There’s no one that did that like Kyle did. There’s no one that gave of themselves to their fellow humans, like the earth gives of herself, like he did. That’s pure humanity. And I know this tragedy is having a lot of us think that all people want to do is harm one another but that’s not true. That’s not what Kyle taught us. Pure humanity doesn’t want to take lives. It wants to help them. To save them. That’s what Kyle’s left behind. And that seems lasting, beyond repeal.
A video of this memorial service can be found here.
A fundraiser for creating a memorial art piece for Kyle can be found here. Please email me through the website with any questions.
*Excerpts from Duino Elegies: Bilingual Edition. Translated by Snow, Edward. New York: North Point Press. 2000. The Ninth Elegy.
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