This description of Jeff Byers’ burial service was written by Mark Maslow:
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By no means take this as an official account of the days events. I thought I would share from my perspective for the folks that would have liked to attend but couldn’t.

Jeff arrived at Yak Farm around 1:30pm. His coffin was put into place and small private service was held by Carita for their dogs. All of the dogs were brought over and some of Jeff’s favorite clothing were placed in the coffin with him so that the dogs could say goodbye.
Also, Eliot the cat was brought over and given the chance to say goodbye. They all reacted in their own way and it was beautiful.

Carita then asked for some privacy for herself and those of us there continued with what tasks were necessary to prepare for the later service.

The location of the grave is in a field near some of the trees that Jeff and Carita had worked hard to save. It is in view of Jeff’s woodshop, one of his favorite places. Yak Farm Cemetery will soon be a sign along FM696. There are quite a few small cemeteries along that road.

A large tent was setup with chairs and a microphone and speakers were provided. A great many people attended the event and many brought their own camp chairs. Some estimates put the number near 200 people, but no official count was taken. A small table with a signature book was provided.

People were directed to the area behind the main house when they first arrived. This is where the tables were setup for folks who brought items for the potluck and generally a good place to mingle.

At about 4pm everyone was requested to move towards the grave site. Luminaries were setup to help folks follow the path to the field.

At first many of the chairs under the tent were not occupied, but once the families had been seated, it was requested that people who wanted to sit, should. There were not enough chairs for everyone, so many people stood.

MC Chris Mack was initially upstaged by Molly, Jeff and Carita’s oldest dog who wanted to be the first to speak, then he started by making a few announcements. He related a story about Jeff. He spoke about how Jeff’s life will continue to influence those of us who knew and had our lives touched by him. Surprisingly brief, Chris yielded the microphone to Jeff’s niece Amanda who shared stories of growing up with an Uncle Jeff and how she felt working for Texas Instruments as an operator, being so proud of her Uncle Jeff. Amanda was followed by Kim Dean who shared her story of meeting Jeff at UT and how he was always someone whom she could count on to help with problems. Jefe was her Lithography Handyman. Kim was followed by Jeff’s roommate during his undergraduate work who spoke about Jeff and Carita’s wedding and the start of Jeff’s (in)famous beer brewing career.
Finally, John Petersen spoke of all the trouble that he and Jeff would get into. I know that I could relate my own personal experiences with Jeff to all of the things that were said of him.

Flowers were provided and anyone who wanted, was encouraged to place a flower on the coffin. Their rooster, Stew, didn’t realize it was late afternoon, serenaded us with his crooning. Maybe it was a 21 cock-a-doodle salute. Afterwards everyone was requested to return to the main house while the undertaker/gravedigger folks handled Jeff’s final burial.

Kegs were tapped, food was opened, and everyone who could, mingled and shared stories about Jeff. The luminaries were moved so that they led a path to and alighted Jeff’s grave. Quite a few people poured some beer for Jeff, as we all knew he would’ve wanted to have some. It gets very dark, very early, in Big Sky Texas country, the luminaries were beautiful. A very clear night, many many stars were visible. A campfire was started and the stories didn’t stop until late in the evening.

Soon there will be a celebratory party for Jeff’s life at Yak Farm. I look forward to hearing more stories about the fantastic guy that was so advanced, he had to leave us early.

Sincerely,

Mark Maslow

(Friday, November 9, 2007)

I miss Jeff.

Dr. Jeffrey Byers was an amazing man. For the people who knew him, this is a statement of the overwhelmingly obvious. He made his mother proud. He adored his wife. He treated his nieces and nephews as if they were his own children. His friends universally regarded his friendship as a privilege. He was a man who thought carefully and deliberately about who he was and who he wanted to be. Then he put the resulting philosophy into action and lived his life with compassion and integrity. I admired Jeff’s integrity. I envied Jeff’s integrity. I wanted to be like Jeff, and I still do.

I miss Jeff terribly.

The tragedy of Jeff’s death assaults us with grief. A man as young and vigorous and loved as Jeff should not be dead. We react to this injustice in a myriad of ways, but two reactions are universal: an uncompromising sense of loss, and an image of our own mortality. I won’t speak much of my feelings of loss today – I don’t have to; it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to understand. I see that as I look at the loss expressed in each of your faces. I would, however, like to talk for a moment about mortality, or rather, immortality.

I know some of you had conversations with Jeff about spirituality – I never did, though I suspect I know some of his beliefs. And I know there is a great range of opinions on the subject among people here today. I think, however, that I am only qualified to speak about my own views of immortality, so I hope you will indulge me on this topic, and let me share with you my thoughts.

I have two views of immortality. One is scientific. Jeff was a scientist – he loved being a scientist – so I think he would appreciate this. Possibly the most important and universal law of physics is the conservation of mass-energy: the mass and energy that exists in the universe today has always existed, from the beginning of time, and will always exist till the end of time. And this applies to each one of us as well – every atom and molecule in our body has always been. As Carl Sagan liked to say, we are all made of stardust. Jeff was made of stardust, and now he is returning that dust back to the world he borrowed it from. It will not be lost, but will go on to become something new. I pleases me to think of that, and I think it would have pleased Jeff, too.

Jeff was a scientist who loved science, but he loved people more. And it is through that love that Jeff will, in a deeper and more important sense, achieve immortality. Through Jeff’s life, by the way he lived, Jeff has changed us. These changes are not temporary – they cannot be taken back. They stay with us. Our immense feelings of loss come from knowing that we have been robbed of all the good Jeff still had to offer. But what he achieved in his life we continue to carry with us, and in that very real, very concrete way, Jeff lives on.

A few hours before Jeff’s accident, on September 7, my second daughter Anna was born. Jeff would have loved to have seen Anna (he loved children), and I am heartbroken that she will never get to meet Jeff. But Jeff will be a part of her life, nonetheless. Maybe Anna’s big sister Sarah will teach her how to color her toenails with crayons, the way Jeff taught Sarah. Or maybe Anna will watch me act, in some small way, with integrity and compassion, the way Jeff taught me. I can’t take Jeff out of my life, and of course I don’t want to, which means that he will be in Anna’s life too. And I am so very glad for that.

I miss Jeff. I will always miss Jeff. But I am lucky, because missing him means simply that Jeff was part of my life, and I will always be thankful for that good fortune.

Last week, things looked so promising for Jeff Byers. After transferring back to the rehab center, Jeff showed improved signs of consciousness. He made attempts at vocalization, so that many of us began a game to guess what his first words might be: “I love you, Carita”, then “I want a beer”? But early Friday morning things changed. Jeff went into cardiac arrest – exact cause unknown. He was resuscitated and rushed to an intensive care unit. By Sunday morning his organs began to fail. Around 10pm last night he died quietly, surrounded by family and friends.

Jeff was an incredible person. He was more thoughtful and compassionate than anyone I know. He could also whip up a bout of righteous indignation when he saw a wrong; he put his philosophies into action. He loved his wife dearly. He was smart – oh my goodness was he smart. He taught me so many things because he learned so many things – he was always learning and teaching. Mark Mason, another friend who met Jeff through work, may have said it best: “It’s hard to describe how much Jeff is liked, admired and respected. He stands out as very special in an industry already full of nice people and mental giants.”

I have loved Jeff for a long time, and I will continue to love him. Now I will also miss him.

“Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?”

Over the last two weeks, I’ve followed the news about a U.S. House of Representatives effort to declare the deaths of about one million Armenians at the hands of the Ottoman Empire (carried out from the early days of World War I till the fall of the Ottoman Empire in 1923) to be genocide. The effort ultimately failed, as domestic politics (an Armenian-American voting block) conflicted with international relations (pissing off Turkey, who has a long history of denying the genocide) and the conduct of the Iraq war (Turkey threatened to stop allowing the use of its airbases if the resolution passed). The White House argued against the resolution, and Congress ultimately caved. Other than the political theater that passes for governance in our nation’s capital, what is at stake here? After all, the proposed resolution was purely symbolic.

Remembering history is more than symbolic – it has real-world consequences. If anyone should recognize this profound truth, it is our nation’s leaders. One person who did recognize the importance of remembering (and forgetting) history was Adolf Hitler. While describing his decision to invade Poland and thus start of World War II, he said that German strength “consists in our speed and in our brutality.” He wanted nothing to do with conventional methods of waging war, and instead ordered his troops, on penalty of death, “to send to death mercilessly and without compassion, men, women, and children of Polish derivation and language.” To justify this approach, he made a very simple statement: “Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?”

Hitler was inspired to massive brutality – and a campaign of genocide of an almost unimaginable scale – by the world’s response, or rather lack of response, to the Armenian genocide. Forgetting history has consequences. Those consequences can be horrific. It is amazing to see the “leader of the free world” display such ignorance of the long-term consequences of his actions in favor of today’s expediency. Yet again, I have another reason to be ashamed of the actions of my country.

Further Reading:
http://www.armenian-genocide.org/hitler.html

The recovery of Jeff Byers continues to be a slow road over rough terrain. Ten days ago Jeff was moved back into the ICU because of blood clots in his lung. After heavy-duty drugs were used to dissolve the clots, more were discovered in his legs. But it is perseverance that will win this battle, and today Jeff was finally moved back to the Texas NeruoRehab Center. Now, it is back to work on his long-term recovery.

I decided to visit Jeff today at his new temporary home at the Texas NeuroRehab Center. When I arrived, his wife Carita was there with her mother and Jeff’s mother and things in a state of great commotion. Within moments I realized that something momentous was taking place – Jeff was awake.

The day before, Jeff began responding to requests from the physical therapist – wiggle your toes, move your fingers, and the like. This morning he opened his eyes and began looking around. He’s not talking, but he is obviously aware of what’s going on. He recognizes people and answers questions with the squeeze of his hand. He understands where he is, but doesn’t remember the accident. When he looked me in the eyes I knew that he knew who I was, and he gave me a wave of his hand to confirm. I was so excited that I didn’t know what to say. His wife just kept kissing him. This is a great day – exactly one month after the car crash that started this whole ordeal.

This isn’t the movies, where coma patients wake up and say “where am I?” It’s not clear how much work Jeff will have to do to relearn how to walk, how to talk, how to eat, how to function. No doubt, it will be a long slog. But Jeff is definitely the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, and I suspect that that trait will serve him well in the months to come. Jeff will be less patient than the rest of us, no doubt.

A little over a week ago, Jeff was moved from an intermediate care room to a regular hospital room – a sign of his continued progress in healing. Last night he was moved out of the hospital all together and into the Texas NeuroRehab Center. This is a facility that specializes in providing physical and neurological therapy for people who have suffered spine and brain injuries and is considered the best such facility in the area. So Jeff’s care has moved from a focus on healing his body to a focus on healing his head. Doctors expect a long road ahead for Jeff and his wife, Carita.

On Friday I was in New York for some expert witness consulting work. I had the pleasure of being deposed (my favorite thing to do, save having a root canal). Strangely enough, though, the good thing about this job is the lawyers.

IP lawyers, especially those that might be working on a case that would require the services of a lithographer, are not your normal breed of lawyers. Most of them started out as engineers or scientists. And even after decades of wearing suits and working in New York high-rises with views of the Statue of Liberty, it only takes a little encouragement for them to show you their true geeky nature. So on Friday, a high-powered lawyer in an expensive suit told me this Limerick from memory:

Concerning the nature of light,
It is hard to know which is right.
Is it particle or waves?
In both ways it behaves,
But we know it is absent at night.

How can you help but like a guy who has that poem at the tip of his tongue?

I like philosophy, especially arguments about philosophy. And if you throw in a little religion or politics, things really get fun. But in the end, I’m a practical kind of guy. I can’t be bothered with any philosophical musing that can’t be brought to bare on how I live my life. Here is a very simple example.

There is an oft repeated quote about the size of government: “That government is best which governs least,” attributed to Thomas Jefferson though it appears in none of his writings. What exactly does this mean? The least amount of government is no government; thus, it literally extols anarchy. Assuming that most who repeat this quote are not promoting anarchy (it is, after all, a part of the Republican Party oath), what is meant by this phrase? It is akin to saying “I believe in small government” without having to be bothered with defining what is meant by “small”. Thus, it claims to represent a philosophy, but without committing the adherent to any course of action. If no government and an all consuming government are both bad options (and surely all rational people must think that they are), there must be some optimum size of government, so that more or less government than this optimum is detrimental to the general welfare of the populous. It should be our goal to find the optimal level of government. How is this optimum to be determined? How, in fact, is the size of government to be measured? What criteria are best used when defining the benefits and detriments of government? These questions are not answered, and in fact not even asked, when one simply repeats the fine sounding but meaningless phrase “That government is best which governs least.”

It is not the shortest business trip I have been on, and it is not the longest. But somehow it feels like both.

After spending about 24 hours to get here from Austin, I arrived in Hong Kong on Thursday night. I’m here for a trial – I’m an expert witness in the case. But when I checked into the hotel, a note was waiting for me – the two sides had settled, so there was nothing for me to do. I changed my flight back to Saturday, and another 24 hours of travel time later I will be home. Thus, a very long, short trip.

But I did have a half-day free, and remarkably I managed to find a brew pub (go figure). The Hong Kong Brew House was in Lan Kwai Fong, the bar district of Hong Kong. While none of the beers were outstanding, they were all good (or at least acceptable). And you have to like it that someone in Hong Kong is trying.