Editor,
A bright source of joy and inspiration vanished from the world the day Elizabeth “Lizz” Ketterer died.
She was a doctor, professor and all-around-awesome human being, and woe to the future that will never behold her.
Ketterer died of sudden complications from a diabetic seizure. She was only 31 years old, and the spectrum of what was lost is apparent to anyone that knew Ketterer — family, friends, colleagues and students.
She was an exuberant, lovely and brilliant person, and her vibrant smile will be missed.
Ketterer attended the University of Texas at Austin and Carnegie Mellon University where she became immersed in literary and cultural studies.
She received her doctorate from the Shakespeare Institute in Birmingham, England, near Stratford-upon-Avon, the great bard’s famous stomping ground.
She was an actress and director in many plays and became the president of the Shakespeare Institute Players. Upon completing her Ph.D., she accepted a position at UNM as a part-time professor in spring 2010.
At the time of her death, she was looking for a tenured professor position at another university because, unfortunately, UNM could not afford her full-time services.
As one of her students, I was honored to have Ketterer share her bliss with us as she stirred passion for drama, mythology and all things Shakespeare. She was one of the most enthusiastic and intelligent people I have ever met — a combination that made her one of the greatest professors I could ever hope to have.
As everyone knows, Shakespeare’s work is one of mankind’s most enduring mirrors, revealing near-infinite dimensions of human nature through dramatic verse. It is so easy for one to become perplexed by his complex poetry or get turned around amid his layered reflections.
Dr. K was an avid navigator of these passages, and she revealed the poet’s secrets so passionately that, within a semester, my general interest in Shakespeare evolved into a competent love. I just don’t know how I’ll ever be able to contemplate Shakespeare again without thinking of Dr. K. It’s as if she has become eternally fused into his own mythos. “Alas …”
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I used to see Dr. K around regularly and approached her any chance I got, but I really wish I could have known her better. The brightness she brought to campus seemed short-lived, and now it surely seems a darker place without her.
In the least, because this has been the only university to have had the privilege of Dr. K’s professorship, a memorial should be erected on campus in tribute to her life. A statue of Shakespeare? The wing of a library?
For anyone that feels a sharp pain in their hearts, know — as hopeless as it seems — what is important to remember: What gives this tragedy its vital ray of hope is that even though the candle of her life seemed too brief, her light has passed on to us.
Her passions will be propagated through us, her students, and her cheerful smile will live on in our hearts and her friends.
Ketterer would have wanted us to turn to Shakespeare for consolation — think of all he has to say on the topic of mortality!
I’ve been combing through quotes, scouring verses for something appropriate and encouraging to share, but all I’ve found are lines that express my heart’s ache. And so, the quote that follows is faithfully extracted from what Dr. K once said was her favorite of old Will’s plays, “Twelfth Night:”
“‘Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature’s own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruell’st she alive
If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.”
Cody Jo
UNM student
