Remembering Evan Rogers

When I think of Evan Rogers, I think of the first college party I ever went to. It was Pizza FM's first or second birthday party, I can't remember which. Like a lot of first-timers, I ended up getting way too drunk, and as I sat on the porch trying not to throw up, Evan came over and asked if I was doing all right. "Not really," I slurred, and that was all it took. For the next twenty minutes at least, Evan sat next to me and listened as everything I'd held in my mind my whole first month away from home all came spilling out: how lonely this place made me feel, how mad I was at myself for not getting into the school I wanted, and even my relationship with my father, for whatever reason. I felt certain that I was boring Evan and embarrassing myself. I was so desperate back then for people to like me, and I couldn't understand why the president of Pizza FM was sitting so patiently and listening to me ramble. I wish I could go back and tell myself then that I didn't need to worry about getting Evan to like me, because he already loved me. As far as I could tell, he loved everyone he met, just because they were there in front of him, alive and human.When I found out this afternoon that Evan Rogers had passed away, I thought again of that night. Evan was the heart and soul of Pizza, and the warm and welcoming community around the club all flowed outward from his own warm and welcoming nature. All the good that Pizza has done since, and all the accomplishments I'm most proud of from my own tenure, everything is in hopes of preserving that beautiful, inclusive environment he created without even trying, just by being himself. It was his encouraging words that convinced me to join the executive board, and without those words I never would have formed any of the connections that matter most to me today. I don't know him nearly as well as many of the people sharing their heartbreak, love, and memories today, but he changed my life just the same. Reading over those stories others have shared, I think he changed a lot of people's lives. He radiated empathy and understanding everywhere he went, and everyone who ever shared even a moment with him felt the warmth of his spirit and was changed for it.The last time I saw Evan was only a year later, at Quad Day 2015, and really, I didn't even see him. I was talking on my phone in the middle of a patch of grass, away from the Pizza booth. Someone dressed as a giant ear of corn walked up to me, waved, and gave me a little hug around the shoulders. I was distracted by the noise and the call, and I didn't stop to recognize Evan's warm eyes and ever-present smile behind the mesh of the mascot suit. He saw I was under stress, and, considerate as always of the emotional states of the people around him, he left me alone and walked away.Today I thought again about that day, too. That Evan was taken from this world so soon, when he had such love for every single person and thing in it, is a tragedy beyond reckoning. Though I haven't seen him in years, I miss knowing that he's out there among us, still looking at people with those same caring eyes, a look that makes you feel like you can tell him anything and he'll sit and listen with a smile. We lost a beautiful soul today, but I can't help feeling that he's out there still, somewhere, smiling that same smile.