I
knew Kirby for only a short time, (courtesy of the MD Ren Faire). He helped me
through some very rough times. For the talk, and the listening, and the 2 knives
he made that I have and treasure, Thanks. I did not see him often, but on the
brief occasions that I touched base with him, he always acted like we'd just
talked yesterday. Kirby was a special soul. Be at Peace, Kirby. Blessings.
Kitti Tadema-Wielandt
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At
the moment I am too devastated to write anything of real meaning but I
did want to offer this photo, which is left to right, his Grandfather Albert
Van De Griek Sr., his father, Al Van De Griek, Kirby himself at about age
23, and his son Corin Van De Griek around age 5. I will be sending more but
I did want people to know he had a son and that he can be reached at
isl1ngt0n@yahoo.com. Kirby will always
hold a special place in my heart. We
were married for about 5 years and though we could not see eye to eye on
everything in life, I loved him and thank him always for the special gift he
gave me, my son Corin.
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Kirby....a
fellow ZRXOA member. Unfortunately, Inever
really knew him. I am the founder of the ZRXOA but
with nearly 4000 members in there now and my work
keeping away from the computer more and more, I was
not able to chat with him much. Read a few of his
posts at the ZRXOA message board, but never directly
corresponded with him. My loss....
Still, he was family...A ZRXOA brother. He will be
missed terribly.
God Speed Kirby.... we love you man!
Brent Hobson
ZRXOA#1
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I met Kirby only three weeks ago at the Harley
Store on Airpark Rd. He took
care of ordering the new Rizoma parts I purchased. Kirby took personal
ownership of my order and was very vested in assuring I would be happy.
When he found out I was a Rexer and on the ZRXOA he was genuinely looking
forward to meet me (as I was him) when I went to pick up my stuff. Kirby IS
a genuinely kind and warm person who's sincerity preempts his gentle, good
willed nature. I am sure he has hundreds of friends, as one can't help but
like him at first encounter. To Kirby's friends and family; I am so very
sorry. I hope your pain is quickly replaced by memories of the blessed joy
and fortune he brought into your lives.
Mike Sandler
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Hi,
I am a co administrator of the ZRX Owner's Association. I don't know if you can do anything with this, but here is the thread on our message board in regards to Kirby. Feel free to use it in your pages if you wish.
Regards,
Howard/Rags722
http://zrxoa.org
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To
Angelica and all the Friends and Family of Kirby:
Sudden death of a beloved friend never makes sense. Many of life's mysteries
don't. In fact, I doubt that any of us can really figure out the strange
ways of love, life and death. The joy is, though, that only one of these is
truly eternal.......and that is love. Kirby, like all true cherished
friends was a gift to us all. It seems that at this time the gift has now
outgrown the package....his body. Indeed the gift of his spirit has been
given and shared and now is no longer confined to one body....rather, he
lives in all of us who knew and loved him and this is eternal. Each time we
hear the sound of Harley engine gunned to the max....Kirby is there. Each
time we feel the spirit of loyal friendship...Kirby is there. Each time we
see the beautiful eyes of the woman he loved so much, Angelica....Kirby is
there. Never forget that we all precious gifts in each other's care. Love
each other. Celebrate each other. For one day if we live our lives true to
our ideals as Kirby did...we too will live in the sacred place of other
people's hearts. Long live the spirit of Kirby and the spirit of true
friendship that unites us all. May we all find comfort in the communion of
this precious soul (Kirby) and the care and love we share.
Happy Re-Birthday Kirby! You live among the stars................Orion Foxwood
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Peace,
peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep -
He hath awakened from the dream of life -
'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings. - We decay
Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
Convulse us and consume us day by day,
And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
He has outsoared the shadow of our night;
He lives, he wakes - 'tis Death is dead, not he;
Mourn not for him. - Thou young Dawn,
Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee
The spirit thou lamentest is not gone;
Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan!
Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains, and thou Air
Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown
O'er the abandoned Earth, now leave it bare
Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair!
He is made one with Nature: there is heard
His voice in all her music, from the moan
Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird;
He is a presence to be felt and known
In darkness and in light, from herb and stone,
Spreading itself where'er that Power may move
Which has withdrawn his being to its own;
Which wields the world with never-wearied love,
Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
The splendours of the firmament of time
May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not;
Like stars to their appointed height they climb,
And death is a low mist which cannot blot
The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought
Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair...
(excerpted from 'Adonais' by Percy Bysshe Shelley)
Soar homeward, bro...
- Christeos Pir
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I
have a story... sort of. Both my partner & myself had corresponded with Rick
for some time, and when he invited Chris & me to a Halloween event at Casa
Chaos, Rick mentioned offhandedly that there might be a great many people
there. Neither my partner nor myself are very good at the extrovert thing, so it
was with some trepidation that we prepared our costumes. When we arrived,
everyone chatted politely, and we were relieved to see a few familiar faces but
were still somewhat nervous. Then this woman with electric blue hair & a
blue boa walks through the door, and right behind her was this... woman. Well,
woman if you squint really hard. I don't mean to imply that no one else was
greeted as warmly - hardly! - but the arrival of these two people clearly
indicated that the party had truly begun. Fake nails and high heels for both: now
there's a couple with style.
I didn't know the guy was Kirby, but it wasn't hard to figure out since everytime I turned around someone was shouting for him. Later I saw Kirby deep in conversation with my partner and asked Chris about it afterwards. He knew a number of the other people there, DC being a relatively small social circle in some ways. Did he know that guy? No, Chris said, he had no idea who the guy was, but they'd just had the coolest conversation as if they'd known each other for years. That's what Kirby could do - make a shy stranger feel perfectly at ease.
We didn't get to the events very often, unfortunately. We live a drive away in Virginia, but whenever Rick emailed us, we always did our best to join the festivities. There were a number of reasons why it was worth it - and Kirby & Angelica were high on the list. I had figured that since we were so rarely seen, there'd be awkwardness as we reintroduced ourselves - but we never had to with Kirby or Angelica. Both of them always greeted both of us as if we were perfectly expected and totally welcome, as if just picking up a running conversation that had lulled for a minute... not for the few months since we'd last been around.
A few weeks ago, Rick mentioned in email that the group was planning another get-together. I'm in school now, full-time, which means weekdays for classes & all weekend studying... but I don't mind studying overtime for a few days to make sure I'll be able to have a Saturday night free. Like I said, there's reasons it's worth it, and we were both looking forward to seeing everyone again. And we will, at the memorial, but that's not the way I'd expected, no one had... Worse still, there'll be a gap in the conversation, an empty space, miles between breaths while I wait to hear someone shout for Kirby. He was one of those people who just seems to fill a space - not in the physical sense, but in the sense of there being so much of himself that he could just give you his undivided attention yet at the same time still be a part of everything else.
And if he could give that much to us - barely acquaintances, on some levels, I suppose - then I can only begin to imagine how much love he gave to those he knew far better. I guess there's no better monument, then, for a person who gave so freely of himself. We'll all be walking memorials, carrying on with just a bit more creativity, joy and zest in our own lives, in gratitude that we had a chance to know Kirby.
KLHamilton
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In
1996 I first came to the famous, infamous RE Piland booth. Here I met
my future wife (Karen) and a group of "interesting people?", well with
in a year I join the crazy but loving group. Now those who know me,
know that I pun and I tend to be the "whipping boy" or the perfect
Costello of the booth. Well, in my time there I grew to know Kirby and
Angelica. We braved many shows together be it the hot and cold of
Maryland Renfaire, the 70 degree one day, 30 degree next day off the
Nov, Dec Surgarloaf shows, or the sun, warm, cold, monsoon of the
Sugarloaf April, show, and finally the Hot sweltering shows of the
summers aka - Potomac Celtic and Virginia Scotts. Kirby was always
there with a great sense of humor, a great to talk with. Sorry I'm long
winded but here are some of those memories, not necessarily in the right
oder but.......
Place : Outback restaurant
Kirby: "I would like my stake flame kissed on the outside, sushi like on
the iniside."
"
Fosters, Australian for Bud Light"
At the Maryland Renfaire, Kirby was usually up stairs but would come
running down stairs when one of the " Tropical Fish:" would go by. (
Now
those of you who have been to farie know that Rob's booth, know that
it's octagonal and we get to see all who go by like in a fish bowl.
Well, Angelica and Kirby named the strange people in the strange
costumes "tropical fish". There were not many days without me
running
up the stairs, saying '' Kirby, qurick you got to see this costume." And
with out fail Kirby would have some kind of comentary about it.
Also, there was Kirby and his kilt..... and the novelties he would wear
under it. I know this might be touchy, but it was histerical....
Kirby, .."What does a dutchman wear under his kilt. .....(and there
would be and elephant, or santa clause.) but nothing rude.
Or he would forget to move his motorcycle and have to ride it out to the
parking lot dressed in a kilt, faire shirt, biker boots and gloves.
Kirby was a good friend and listener. As I said before, I tend to be
the bud of most jokes, but Kirby and Angelica along with Micheal,
install the rules of my joking and being joke on. That was I could not
be little myself. This meant a lot to me and has effected me ever
since. Furthermore, he would always listen to my dealing with my
relationship with Karen.
I'm sorry I thought this would be easier to pin point wonderful things
but they all run together.
Kirby wasn't a friend I saw often, but during the time I worked with him
he was fantastic, funny, down to earth, cool to hang out with.........
Kirby may you find long flat highways to ride you bike out there, along
with a mountain top where your shack and forge sit......where you spend
late afternoons, standing bear chested with and apron banging out some
raw iron over the fire. (I believe a story from his yonger days)
Thanks for all you given to me .
Your friend, and pun man......
jon 7/10/02
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I saw Kirby long before I met him. When Howard and I bought our house in August 1999, I spent many summer days job-hunting in the greater Frederick area. My mother-in-law, Sibyl, accompanied me sometimes, just for the ride and companionship.
That’s when I noticed a biker and his babe on route 77 directly in
front of me on the
S-turn heading west near the Hog Rock trailhead and handicapped parking lot at
Cunningham Falls. He was huge, and
she was tiny. His hair was long,
hers short. I smiled and noticed:
Kawasaki – Howard’s favorite.
Sibyl said, “Wow, my green with purple, my favorite color-combination. Those two girls really have good taste.” I smiled again and told her that I seriously doubted the person driving was female and that those red helmets were it, sorry. Green bike, red helmets, white and purple…cool. Kinda like Christmas. “Look, Sibyl! It’s SANTA’S ELVES!!!” We laughed.
And so the summer changed to autumn, and I temped for a year. They zoomed by our house a few times (“Look, Howard! There go Santa’s Elves!”), and so did The Bumble Bees, a group of bikers that ride regularly in the area. Howard and I love to knick-name people and animals, even ones we don’t know; that one is his. We’d hear them swarming closer with the higher pitched buzz of real motorcycles over the mountain from Raven Rock Road and wonder whether the elves and bees knew each other. They didn’t, but they would meet.
I’d ended up at UNITEC covering for the office administrator in November of 2000 when after about a week, Jeanne started in the proposal department. When the holidays rolled around, Howard and I met Kirby at the office party. He was certainly no elf and definitely not female, though I discovered later he wore a dress very well.
It’s interesting how some people make an impression in your life. Even if I had never had the honor and privilege of knowing Kirby personally, he would still be part of what makes me smile in this old world: A colorful, bold, fun-loving man with an equally colorful, bold, fun-loving woman riding with him, two non-conformists shooting through the wind like Santa’s Elves on Christmas; but, because we formed an impromptu kick-line to the can-can in my kitchen a year ago, because we picnicked in the rain under beach umbrellas, because he called Howard “Zamboni Man”, because of so many other things, because his name landed upon my ears, passed through my lips, and settled into my heart, Kirby’s mark is indelible.
Valerie Kitts 7/9/02
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Murky was a feral cat as far as anyone can tell. He lived on a mountain deep in the heart of the Blue Ridge, surviving on the land, and wandered to wherever his instincts would carry him.
Kirby was a kindred spirit; he too was a survivor who had endured the dark storm clouds life rolled over him with. He was the kind of man who had an idea about life, and made no compromises. He loved good beer, better wine, a fast motorcycle, and friendly company. A self-made blacksmith by trade, he made his home on Murky’s mountain where he set up a forge to make knives, daggers, buckles, and any other metalwork that inspired him. Murky adopted the human and lived with him in his cabin, even looked out for him from time to time.
And then Kirby met Angelica; when two stars converge, the similarities merge and the differences blur the boundaries between friends, lovers, and soul-mates. Kirby and Angelica were, as I had known them, a perfect match like wine and cheese, bacon and eggs, movies and popcorn. Fortunate for the two of them that Murky also agreed with Kirby’s taste in women. When Kirby decided to give up the mountain life for a more domesticated existence, Murky followed with him much to everyone’s surprise. The mountain cat had chosen him, and had no intention of being separated from his surrogate father.
In all the years between, as Angelica tamed Kirby, and Kirby tamed Murky, the trio made a peaceful life with the bond of love and friendship. They had completed a circle, forged a new ring of family stronger than steel, more precious than gold, and more enduring than diamond.
But last week, that circle was broken. Kirby’s life was taken when a careless driver crossed paths with his motorcycle. The pain is still new, and though time will fade the wound, it will never heal it. Murky doesn’t understand, and sits patiently by the door waiting for his adopted human to return.
We’re left with treasured memories; images of Kirby in a full kilt wielding a broadsword, of Kirby riding his Kawasaki with the sun at his back and the wind in his hair (Harleys, as he was so fond of saying, were lawnmowers with wheels), of Kirby the jeweler crafting intricate Celtic knotwork designs in precious metals, of Kirby’s affection for odd films, but most of all for his love of Angelica and the intimate bond they shared. Reality may be gone, but the images will not be forgotten. The evening sun sometimes catches the billowy puffs of clouds at the right angle to silhouette the mountains, sometimes reflects off the clear still water of the mountain lake to cast a glow in the sky, a pastel blend of yellows, greens, blues, and purples. Such times are short-lived, seen only in clear weather and calm skies, but we can still catch a glimpse of the mountain man up there among the evergreens, still hear the hammer-clang of his forge, and know that the breadth of life cannot account for the vigor of living.
-Vernefrax (Jay)
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I
sent this to Angelica and some of our friends back in February of
'99...Kirby was truly an inspiration...
Warm thoughts to all,
Lylythe Strega
*****
>I felt obligated to share this with everyone. A couple of days ago,
Caledhaearn mentioned in that one of our friends, Kirby VDG, Das
Uberpoop, had, as part of his venerable collection, a codpiece that
squeaked when you squeezed it. Well...my mind
tends to wander at
work, and (*maniacal grin*) I was inspired...
"Squeaky Codpiece" (*Sung to the tune of "Rubber Ducky...*)
Squeaky codpiece, you're the one (squeak, squeak)
You make battle lots of fun (squeak, squeak)
Squeaky codpiece, I'm awfully fond of you (boop boop
boop dee doo)
Squeaky codpiece, c'est la guerre (squeak, squeak)
When I squeeze you, people stare (squeak, squeak)
Squeaky codpiece, I'm awfully fond of you!
Every day when I make my way into warfare,
I wear an apparatus that makes me happy-us down there
(hee hee hee, hee-hee!)
Squeaky codpiece, without you (squeak, squeak)
What's a warrior to do? (squeak, squeak)
Squeaky codpiece, I'm awfully fond of you!!
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I was
blessed to know Kirby. I am equally blessed that I have more
memories of the man than I can easily process. Every so often a memory of
my dear friend will float to the surface of my thoughts. There is the
pain of parting, keen still, but then a smile at the memory.
I knew the man as a knifemaker first. Probably met him in 1992 or perhaps
a year or two before. Knife shows blur together after a while, but his
work ALWAYS stood out. Being an afficionado of steel, I knew he was
someone to watch and possibly purchase from when budget permitted. (And
so I have in the years since then!)
So years pass, and I come to work for Rob Piland at the booth at the
Maryland Renaissance Festival in 96 and my friendship with Kirby grows.
This is not to make light of getting to know Angelica! She has enriched
my life, and God(s; ess; esses; insert favorite) willing will do so for
many years to come.
No shit, there I was.
At the booth, possibly in the 97 season, and Kirby came downstairs
wearing a kilt. He went over to my wife and flashed her. FLIP! She
dissolved into gales of laughter. Not entirely the reaction you'd expect
to see from someone who has just been flashed, but that's how it went
down.
Then he turned to me.
He's smiling that smile. His eyebrows had marched up his forehead and
were holding it at bay. Every bit the image of the naughty little boy who
is about to stick a bug in your hair.
Then he flashed me. FLIP!
Instead of his Flying Dutchman and Ballast, lurking beneath the kilt was
a Santa Claus g-string. My brain shut down, and I fell to the floor of
the booth in the classic "dead roach position". I stayed there for a
while with Kirby standing beside me, cackling.
Ah, my brother...I will miss that sense of humor and those moments of
child-like glee that you enjoyed so often.
-Jim
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To
friends and family of Kirby. My thoughts and prayers go out
to you in your time of grief. God Bless.
Dean P. Theriot
Houma, La.
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