For the uninitiated, though you've certainly heard this guy's name tossed about here and there. . . Evan was a senior in Tribeville when Rob, Dave, Hightower, Dougie Fish, and I were freshman idiots on the same hall, and he took us under his wing right away. He ushered me into his fraternal family, then grad-ee-ated and went off to Hokie Land, at first to become an Art Vandelay style architect; then, when the mini-recession of the time hit, his fate was to move into construction management. Anyway, his subsequent tours of booty in Arlington, sLower Maryland, and Atlanta included stupendous episodes of utter dipshittery. As a rule.
In the early to mid-nineties, Ol' Ev -- or Earl, as he was called by some -- helped found both the Magnificent 7 keg croquet extravaganzas (7-person teams competed at croquet and had to each finish a full keg) AND the Santa Stumble bar crawls; he himself turned each of these marvelously intoxicated events into all-timers on an annual basis because of audacity, puckish humor, stubborn dedication to arbitrary, silly regulations he'd impose, passion for friendship, and his genuine article sense of humility and wonderment at the world and the comrades who populated it.
Homecomings, birthday outings, Springsteen shows, NASCAR races, Ohio State football losses -- any reason to hope in his red Dodge Ram and drive 8 hours would be more than cause to be there in fine form, cases of Pabst in tow (pre-hipster-resurgence). God bless Evan Lloyd, he loved me like a little brother and I'll not know his like again.
Today, on his 50th, I'll drink 50 beers for him.
Okay, fine, that's not feasible, even for me. Whatever I do, I'll do him proud and salute him all the way. I already put the Ev-dent into every can of beer I consume, total force of habit at this point. I'll incorporate more of the many Evanisms into the night's activities. Where did I put that croquet set?
Here's to Ev. May those you love linger longer than he, but may they impart upon you nearly as much entertainment and appreciation. Or, as he would borrow from Quint, "Here's to swimmin' with bow-legged women."
I'll close with two emails sent from the man himself, one for whom technology like electronic mail was a passing lark. The first is simply goofy Evan, the second is one of the more bittersweet things I keep handy. Here goes:
11/08/99 at 10:24 AM
Here goes my first LammieNet transmittal. 'Tis nice to be here (on the net, that is, not in the Dekalb County Public Library which is my closest computer since some lowlifes broke into our job trailers and swiped our computers). Although I haven't the time to get on here much, I've enjoyed reading your recent rants and will try to pipe in when I can. Yes, Mr. Softie, I said 'pipe in'.
I had a swell time in the 'Burg last weekend. Surely y'all noticed whose family had the best showing and hung the toughest. That was my family. In fact, between Gym Bitner, myself, Whit and Rodell, our clan showed some 30 years of alumni status, 24 of which was still up & at it at the house at 4 AM. Quick-Draw Mo Lester didn't last near that late, but everyone there surely noticed how skillfully he shoe-horns 20 hours of drinking into 14 hours of consciousness.
Those current brothers were alright. At 4:45 when I left, they still had some 30 cases of beer in the cave shitter and were breaking shit like ceiling tiles and the commode on the bar, AC/DC loud and proud. Nice collection of young chicks, too. Surprising, in fact. My favorites were the knee-socked, pony-tailed little girl costumes - about 4 of them and way hot hot. Another thing I enjoyed was the fact that Unit L is no longer Sigma Nu, but full of girls, yet at 6@9, the brothers still fence off our back porch turf - Lord help them if some coeds should walk through.
Now, the point of my writing: The 5th Annual Santa Stumble will take place on December 11th in Richmond. This is probably the most unique and amusing gala I know. It was started by Chris Blake, VA Psi 1989's younger brother Doug (whose maroon neck makes Chris look like a fargin' preppie) in '95 with 9 igits in Santa suits staggering bar to bar. It has steadily grown (like kudzu in Mrs Tell) to last year's 122 and is truly a joyous time. Some establishments like us, some simply don't. A few arrests about every other year. Past Lammie participants include Stewbacca, Lester, Overton, Elmo, Spoid, Squirrel, Gormley and Saunders. They'll surely recommend that the $25 Wal-Mart seasonal costume investment is all worthwhile (and re-usable - this'll be Stumble #5 for my chirp-stained, cigar stanked uniform). We meet at a bar in the Fan called Easy Street, where the owner donates a few kegs, and then a bus or 2 takes us downtown. It's cool. Elmo one year was late, missed the bus, yet easily found what bar we were in because the DJ on the radio told him where we were. The bus takes you back to Easy Street at closing time; it's pretty well organized. I'll report later on the exact free beer meeting time.
email@example.com 09/22/00 at 9:15 AM
Subject: Happy #30
Well wishes to you on your 30th birthday!
My good friend, your presence in my world has brought me magnificent enjoyment. Comfortable comraderie, abundant humor, loyal companionship, millions of terrific memories; I treasure your friendship a great, great deal. May the next two-thirds of your life be filled with love, happiness, World Series titles, and everything you want. I'm looking forward to celebrating your day with you this weekend, as well as your 40th, 50th, 75th, . . . birthdays.
Your Big Brother, and your friend,