Twenty-five years ago today, my brother died.
Randy was the oldest brother of us four Baker boys, including Lyle, Brett, and I. At 6'2" he was a big man, with broad shoulders, an enormous chest, and a laugh to match.
Randy died after a experiencing a spontaneous blood clot in his brain, something not too dissimilar from a stroke. He was in Phoenix, swimming (as usual) while on a field trip, when he was struck down by a tiny invisible blow, which despite his strength and vigour killed him within a week. He was 28 years old.
Although still a young man, Randy was a gifted and prolific marine biologist. He studied marine oligochaetes (ol-i-go-kets - segmented worms) about which he authored 15 scientific papers during the four years prior to his death. Afterwards, his thesis advisor at the University of Victoria, Dr. Ralph O. Brinkhurst wrote of him,
Randy... was a big man in every sense of the word. He first joined my laboratory in 1978... we were immediately impressed by those characteristics that many came to know and admire, his basic decency, generosity of spirit and warm good humour.
[While working toward his M.Sc.] the supervisory committee proposed that he had progressed so fast that his enrollment be upgraded to allow him to proceed directly to the Ph.D. degree, with the proviso that he gain experience through travel and work at centers [abroad]. Accordingly, Randy planned and executed a tour of Europe that took him to laboratories from Ireland and England through Norway and Sweden. In 1982 he acted as the station manager of the Smithsonian Institute research station at Carrie Bow Cay, Belize.
Randy was a member of the Canadian Society of Zoologists, the International Association of Meiobenthologists, the Biological Society of Washington, and the Society of Systematic Zoology. He was a Voluntary Research Associate of the British Columbia Provincial Museum, and was elected Vice President, University of Victoria Graduate Student Society in April, 1983.
Randy combined scholarship and dedication with infectious charm, and all the shining promise of youth that has found its focus in life. His pioneering work is his monument. His placed will not be filled, he will be truly missed.
Later, we three boys watched as our mother accepted Randy's posthumous Ph.D. with grace and courage at a University of Victoria convocation ceremony.
Today, looking back the quarter century since Randy died, I know that I am somewhat less and different than the man I might have become with his continued friendship and example. But this is who I have become, and this Barry keeps Randy close at hand, not just with things I recall, but also with mementos of his life that I will never understand.
On my desk stands a grey ceramic kitten, with a too-cute expression and a baby blue ribbon tied in a bow about its neck. It doesn't fit with the Randy I knew, who lived within spartan means, read Lewis and Lovecraft, and seemed always (occasionally to my chagrin) to be in charge. I suspect it was a gift from a girlfriend; given the initials on the bottom, a little sleuthing might clear the mystery up for good. But I hope to never know the story behind this ceramic kitten.
Like most people, the full depth of Randy's character was known only to himself. What subtleties would my memory of him hold today, if all I had to recall were my own experiences, captured as a boy ten years his junior? I need more than that. So I keep this kitten close, to remind me of things I didn't know about him, to keep his motivations intact and uncertain, and his memory alive. To remind me of the brother I grieve and celebrate.
Randy Baker is gone, but not forgotten.
| Howard Randall Baker (1955 - 1983) |
