Gary Dale Byrd, 1942-1966
Gary Byrd became one of my closest friends at East.
We shared a mutual healthy cynicism about the absurdity of the world around us. This included taking
almost nothing at face value and questioning and challenging authority in an intellectual way. Our signature was to reduce complexity down to one liners.
We also had our own form of absurd humor. For example, we developed a spoof on mathematics called Sigma Notation. Sigma Notation is most famous for the integrating concepts of the xypylyx, pipscosy, and hooch. These were things a person either knew or did not. If one did, then everything in mathematics made perfect sense. If one did not, that person would be better off in a career as a steeple jack than mathematics.
We did make an honest effort to enlighten the world about Sigma Notation. One such occasion was when we went up to Science Days at the University of Kansas. We found a classroom and went out recruiting high school kids to come hear our lecture on Sigma Notation. We managed to get about two-thirds of a room full of clueless marks to hear our lecture. Gary and I took turns lecturing and putting up equations and diagrams of Sigma Notation. These included, of course, the xypylix, pipscosy, and hooch. A few hands went up with questions, but no one asked, “What the hell are you guys doing here, and why are any of use listening to this bullshit.” In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. (Photo: Gary Byrd proving 2+2=0 by using Sigma Notation)
After the first year of college when Gary returned from Harvard, we looked at our options for summer jobs. These were pretty much minimum wage. After checking around, we decided to paint houses. People were making good money in this trade. We gathered up all of our money to buy our capital assets, professional paint brushes, scrapers and an oak 36-foot extension ladder. That sucker was really heavy. But, it stood the best chance of not breaking. By that time Gary and I had learned about gravity, including terminal velocity of objects falling from heights to earth.
Professional painters take very good care of their brushes. Gary and I both had the same brushes from the beginning to the end of our painting careers. The oak ladder also was in excellent condition.
We both had wondered why painters were generally alcoholics. We learned after the first week on the job. Mind numbingly boring. However, painting together gave us a huge number of hours during which we could talk about anything. Our ethic was to use critical reasoning and facts. No bullshit. When one of us was wrong, the other was there to correct, instantly. Nothing was ever taken personally. Our discussions ranged widely, and one subject led to another. Looking back, those hours painting with Gary were some of the finest moments I have had in my life discussing issues with another person.
Our leads came in over the transom. Turned out quite a few people in the Wichita Swim Club community were eager to hire painters who were reliable — and not drunks. We took pretty much any job we could get. Some of these did not involve painting.
For example, Glenna Stearman’s dad had us tear down the ceiling of one of his drafting shops. This was a big place. The ceiling was made of sheet rock and was probably constructed before WW II as part of Stearman Aircraft Company. Who knows?
The Stearman ceiling gig turned out to be one of the shittiest jobs I personally have had. Same for Gary. Each time we punched a hole in a section of the ceiling, huge clouds of dust and rat shit rained down on our heads This started with the first hole we punched and continued to the last square meter of the ceiling we removed. We had no masks of any kind. Cloth over our faces was totally ineffective, particularly against the rat shit and fine sheet rock dust. After the first day on this job, we started using the term, sheet rockers lung. It was that bad. Worse.
Another memorable job was painting Sarah Amsden’s house. The Amsden family was in the Wichita Swim Club. Henry Amsden, Sarah’s father, had been in Army Intelligence during WW II. He had already assembled the world’s largest collection of Nazi propaganda. Henry showed us this stuff one day. Gary and I were amazed.
In painting houses, we made it a point to paint every surface. Amsden house had a peak that was three stories. There came a time when painting the peak was the last remaining TBD. I volunteered to go up and paint the peak. Gary held the base of the ladder securely in place. So I get to the top with my feet on the last rung of the ladder, paint brush in one hand and paint can in another. I had just about finished the peak when the hornets appeared. I was not wearing a shirt, and they started stinging my back. No way to drop the paintbrush or paint bucket, which would have made a mess on the concrete. The only way out was to move carefully off the top rung and down the ladder while Gary held things steady. There were so many stings that I developed an allergic reaction. Gary drove me to the ER at Wesley Hospital and stood guard. That was the only time in our painting career that we declared “good enough.”
After college, I entered the U.S. Navy. Before he graduated from Harvard, Gary and I discussed his options, including the Graduate School of Economics at Harvard. He decided to stay in Wichita and continue as a student at Wichita State. This path preserved his student deferment as the Vietnam War intensified.
While I was on active duty, we exchanged letters about every two days. As the months went by, it became clear to me that Gary was becoming increasingly depressed.
One day, I received a call from my mother while my ship was in port. She said that Gary had died. I 
requested emergency leave and returned to Wichita for Gary’s funeral. I do not want to say any more about this. It was devastating for me.
For some reason during the service, I recalled a passage from Winnie the Pooh. Winnie and Piglet were walking one day. Winnie said to Piglet, “If there comes a day when we cannot be together, keep my in your heart. I will live there forever.”
That is where my friend and soul mate, Gary Byrd, is today.
God speed.
Very touching and informative. RIP