July 30, 2025 — Any University of Florida College of Medicine or dentistry student who has taken an anatomy course in the past four decades has been greeted by a pleasant man with white hair and a big smile, most often seen wearing a suit and tie.

His penchant for human anatomy and knowledge of every muscle and bone in the body is parallelled only by his devotion and care for every person he encounters — be it his five children and 19 grandchildren, his faculty peers, staff or his thousands of students over the years.

After 41 years teaching anatomy at the UF College of Medicine, beloved anatomy professor Kyle Rarey, Ph.D., is hanging up his white coat to begin new adventures in retirement. Surrounded by many family members and others whose lives he and his late wife, Donna Rarey, L.M., R.N., have touched during their careers, the college paid tribute to Rarey in a retirement celebration July 25 at the George T. Harrell, M.D., Medical Education Building.

Sharing a quiet moment with Rarey a few years ago meant the world for M.D.-Ph.D. student Cali Love. She had recently returned to campus, where she had been working in the anatomy lab during the summer, after coordinating care for her mother, who was recently diagnosed with cancer.

“I got there early in the morning, and I was sitting in the front of the lab, flipping through the anatomy books when Dr. Rarey walked in,” she said. “I think he expects a certain energy from me most of the time, but he immediately sensed something was off. And he just said, ‘You don’t need to say anything. We can just be here.’ And he held my hand, and I cried real tears into the anatomy books.

“And then after a moment, he said, ‘Those lacrimal glands are really getting tired, aren’t they?’ And we laughed. That was just Dr. Rarey.”

Love’s story echoed many others who recalled times Rarey had provided a shoulder to cry on, a joke to laugh at and a quick word of encouragement.

Ashleigh Wright, M.D. ’07, an associate professor of medicine, remembered feeling scared when she returned to the college to begin teaching.

“When Dr. Rarey came up to me and told me I was doing a great job, I actually believed that for the first time,” she said.

And when Wright accomplished running her first marathon, the first person she told was her mentor, Rarey — a longtime marathoner and Iron Man competitor himself.

“Now, with his well-deserved retirement, I was thinking, ‘Who will I talk to? Who will encourage me and share my losses?’” Wright said. “And what I’ve realized from hearing us all talk is that you’ve given me the strength to find those things within myself … Thank you so much for everything you’ve given all of us.”

Always considering the best ways for his pupils to continue to master the nuances of human anatomy, Rarey leaves a lasting impact on the way students at the college learn.

He championed the inclusion of tablets and portable computer carts equipped with augmented reality technology to supplement cadaver dissections and offer students new modalities of learning.

And in 2021, he collaborated on the founding of a new UF doctoral program in anatomical sciences education, which recently saw its first cohort graduate.

Ivy Dunn, a current student in the program, recognized how fortunate she and her peers have felt to learn from Rarey.

“You have changed each of our lives,” she said. “You’ve given us opportunities to grow, not only as anatomists and educators and researchers, but as people. Personally, I want to thank you for giving me a chance to do what I love every day. You’ve challenged me, supported me and inspired me to do my best. On behalf of all of us in the program, thank you for your unwavering commitment, your guidance and your belief in us and your presence. Dr. Rarey, you will be deeply missed, but we’re so excited for all that awaits you in your next chapter.”

You don’t have to reach far and wide to find the life lessons that drive Rarey forward. Some of the best advice, he said, can be gleaned from a classic children’s book: “The Little Engine That Could.”

The story of a small blue train that successfully climbs a steep mountain while carrying a heavy load after repeating the mantra “I think I can, I think I can,” is a staple he read to UF anatomy students every year.

“No matter what, that little blue engine was going to go across the top of that mountain,” Rarey said. “I think there’s a lesson there of helping the individual understand his philosophy and his journey, in terms of becoming that little blue engine.”

In a similar vein, Rarey’s catchphrase — the first words that come to mind when anyone thinks of him — are most likely “stroke, stroke, kick, kick,” which originates from a fable of two frogs who accidentally become stuck in a bucket of cream.

The first frog quickly becomes overwhelmed and gives up hope they’ll be rescued, and as a result, he drowns. The second frog refuses to give up and keeps kicking and stroking in the cream, until eventually it’s churned into butter and he’s able to escape.

Often in anatomy lab, Rarey has reminded his students to “stroke, stroke, kick, kick, around each buoy of life.”

“The important thing is your mind, your attitude, your perseverance,” Rarey said.

Rarey won’t be going far in retirement — you will still be able to see him running outside, living in the city where all those decades ago, he turned to his wife and said, “This is the place we need to be.”

After years of imparting life lessons upon students and colleagues, it’s not surprising that Rarey will be spending his next chapter connecting with others to discuss their life wisdom.

He will be working with several of his grandchildren to create a new podcast, “The Rarey Report,” in which he will interview leaders in academia and beyond about their life experiences and how they’ve achieved happiness and success.

Thanking his family, colleagues and students for sharing their anecdotes of him at his retirement celebration, Rarey left them with an Irish blessing: “May the path rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall soft upon your field of dreams.

“Can you guess what my last four words are? Stroke, stroke, kick, kick.”