Later Skater

Evan Jones, one of my best friends in this whole crazy wonderful world, is packing up his cubicle and his family and leaving Castle Rock for the beautiful rolling hills of Tennessee. I’m happy for him and his family, but I can’t help but feel very sad at the thought of not being able to hangout with him as often as I do now.

The Jones family moved to Castle Rock within a few days of us. He was our home teacher. My first impression of him when he came to teach us was that he was a very serious and spiritually-gifted individual. Shortly after that we started to carpool to the Tech Center together. We really got to know each other on those drives to and from work. We would talk about our days and our feelings, our deepest fears and our greatest joys. During frigid snowstorms in which we were stuck in traffic we would embrace to stay warm.

We served in the Cub Scout program together. Those closest to us understood that we were virtually unreachable on the first Thursday of every month, because we were either preparing for, or attending, Scout Roundtable. It was at a particularly moving Roundtable that we first heard the story about a Native American, a talking squirrel, and three poison ivy bushes. I know I will never forget this story, and I bet my friend Evan won’t, either.

Evan served faithfully in his priesthood callings. He was first counselor in the elders quorum presidency, and then became president when the former president decided to move to China to start a temporary tattoo manufacturing plant.

Evan was an amazing president, and because of him several people who used to skip church entirely now stay for all three hours. He never quits, and his persistence brings blessings into the lives of many, many people.

I am going to miss Evan very much. He made me want to kick some serious tail at everything I tried. He encouraged me when I needed encouragement, made me laugh whether or not our surroundings deemed laughter appropriate, and embraced me during cold snowstorms. Have I mentioned that already?

In all honesty, Evan is part of a rare and special breed. He’s an errand-runner for the Lord, a man who chooses the right always, and someone who I look up to and admire more than he will ever know. When I die, I want someone at my funeral to say, “He reminded me of Evan Jones.” I also want someone to say, “Ryan was a great juggler.”

I will also miss Rebecca. I credit my epic performance at last year’s Bolder Boulder to her whole wheat spaghetti and angel food cake. She is an amazing woman who will be dearly missed by our entire family. Especially Chanel.

Good luck in Tennessee, my beef-eating mandoodle buddy. Think of me when a Janet Jackson song comes on the radio, and I’ll think of you when I see Mountain Dew-yellow headlights. You’ll be missed.