Remembering Jake

A tribute from Michael Agapos, Baylor friend and former roommate.

Jake was, we can all agree, an exceptional man, capable of moving mountains with just a quiet word. He was soft spoken, but could still command a room. His wit was well timed, spot on, and could always get a laugh. His insights were fresh and poignant. His questions were thoughtful and got to the root of whatever was being discussed.

But when I think of Jake, I do not think of his words. I think of his ability to listen, to really hear what you were saying, and how you could watch him turn over in his mind what you had said. When he responded, he would always do so carefully, with the utmost respect for whomever he was talking to. I have never felt as seen, heard, or understood as I did speaking with Jake.

When I first saw this scrawny, short (statistically average height! he'd insist) freshman with the neckbeard and chinstrap facial hair my sophomore year, I instantly knew I wanted to be his friend. And so we became friends. We bared our souls, swapped stories and memes, bounced our ideas off each other, shared a room for a year, road-tripped to Zion National Park and to Portland, and talked about anything, everything, and nothing. The depth and intensity of grief and hurt I have felt since his passing is a testament to the quality of our friendship, and the impact he had on me.

He was my friend, my best friend. He got me in ways other people did not. We shared the same interests, had similar high school educations and extracurriculars, and took the same college courses. There were just some things and topics we clicked over that were too niche academically or culturally to name without embarrassing ourselves. And even where we did not match up, like for instance, my wide and varied taste in music, he would put up with it, even pretending to like it sometimes. Jake was, among other virtues, kind. Not kind as in nice, but kind as in genuinely concerned for the well being of everyone around him. He was comfortable, familiar, always a soothing presence, and an anchor when stuff inevitably hit the fan. I could always be myself around him. I deeply loved him.

Jake was a brother to me. To borrow from Cicero, he was “such a friend as I do not expect ever to have again, and as I am sure I never had beside.”

I miss you, and I love you, Jake.

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A letter from Professor Chris Moore to the BIC/Honors Community at Baylor.

As a community, we mourn:

Jake Kanyer, 21, passed away this past Saturday [March 6]. Jake was a senior, majoring in Political Science and minoring in Economics, amongst a bevy of other notable achievements. He came to Baylor from Veritas School in Oregon where he was co- valedictorian and a National Merit finalist.

These achievements – and Jake had many – don’t give anywhere near a full picture, however. Jake left an immediate impression. He arrived at my desk during Orientation already discussing Augustine’s conception of the proper order of loves and Boethius’ description of humanity’s relationship with Fortune. His brilliance was immediately evident. Jake was possessed of a rare intellect that makes grasping difficult concepts seem easy and challenges even the most brilliant faculty member.

But his academic ease was easily matched by his social grace and concern for others. Jake has repeatedly been described as being an easy and fast friend who delighted in sharing the loves – arts, outdoors, cards, etc. – of his friends. Jake was able to bridge multiple social groups, as well. His colleagues/peers and his faculty all intuitively felt that his presence was particular, was unique. In speaking to his friends over the past couple days, he has regularly been referred to as “my go-to guy who was always there when we wanted to do something or when he was needed” and “Immediately present and caring” in a way that meant he could make friends with any given group. Jake was a delight to speak to, hang out with, or simply be around.

Beyond his affable manner and strong intellect was a heart that wanted to see the world be a good and decent place. Dr. McDaniel put it this way, “Jake combined, in a rare manner, the intellectual drive to understand the world with the need to morally understand and serve the world.” From the time he started his journey with us in the BIC, Jake wanted to learn all he could so that he could improve our shared world. He put it this way when he applied: “We should learn, not just for the sake of knowing, not just so we can pursue future careers, but for the sake of doing ... so to better impact the world.”

I will be honest with you; I don’t know how to process our loss. The world seems emptier than a single loss can account for. It is perhaps too nerdy even for the nerdiness that operates under the name BIC, but I have been unable to stop thinking about Hogwarts when it faced loss and Dumbledore’s words regarding Cedric Diggory after his tragic death. I find them a fair fit for our lost loved one:

“Today we acknowledge a really terrible loss. Cedric Diggory was as you all know, exceptionally hard working, intricately fair minded. And most importantly a fierce friend ... Now the pain we all feel at this dreadful loss reminds me, reminds us that while we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one.”

For today, as we remember Jake with love and appreciation, know that we feel the same care for each of you. You are beloved and we hold you close to our hearts in the sorrow of losing someone so dear.

Grace and peace,
Prof. Chris Moore and BIC Family