Bob Phelps' Eulogy for our friend Kevin:
"As soon as you think of something or someone you'll find that, much like a computer, your brain has a default folder that stores that information—and on the cover is an image that captures the essence of the thing.
Whenever I think of Kevin Latham I see him standing next to me, sun dappled through dusty windows of a used book store. I took him to my favorite place in town, Wilson's, where all manner of treasures are found. There he is, asking the owner for a rare copy of a science fiction novel by Bladerunner author Philip K. Dick. He and the bearded, bespectacled owner are ruminating on the subtleties and complexities of the sci-fi genre. As my eyes scan the room for art books I hear the shop owner say in a rather authoritative tone...."well, Dick IS an acquired taste" . I nearly passed out from laughing before Kevin and the shop owner realized what he had said. And there it was—the laugh.
Kevin has a riotous laugh like a geyser that erupts from a deep and secret spring hidden in calm soil. A rich laugh that pours like gold coins from a slot machine. He has a laugh with wrinkles and tears and baby teeth—a natural, knowing laugh, because he is a guy who understands the ironies and truths and poems of life. The last night we hung out was at a comedy show. When we clinked our beers and cackled like monkeys we were alone in the crowded room--and in the understanding that Hunter Thompson revealed: Only serious people can laugh.
That's why I always called him Nathan. An homage to our Junior Varsity soccer coach and his inability to remember Kevin's name—calling him Nathan instead of Latham or Kevin. As some will remember we also called him Wild Man for his reckless and desperately flailing kicks to prevent the ball from reaching it's goal. Our combined athletic prowess amounted to little more use to our team than our roles as bioelectic heaters for the pine benches. But we did our part. We kept the cold air warm with our evil jokes and fiery curses.
In the spring he and I ran neck and neck like brother wolves through the forest towards the promise of teen aged, lustful fulfillments. Screw soccer—there are girls to hunt. We were gangly, inexperienced, drenched in cologne and awkward, but Fully dedicated to the cause. We hatched plans and schemes of such diabolic complexity that the CIA would be proud. We knew our parent's schedules down to the millisecond. No chess master could rival Kevin in his strategic planning while in the throes of teenage love. No cage could hold him. No mountain could block his view. No poet can imagine a happier time. I hope our parents never find out the full measure of the debauchery we cooked up.
A natural outlaw, Kevin was the perfect partner for committing the crimes that make youth memorable. A sympathetic devil. Without his generous sleight of hand I would have failed physics and trigonometry both. I would have learned too late the secret knowledge of the one handed bra liberation maneuver. Without Kevin I wouldn't have dared to be daring when it counted.
Who else but Kevin would boost you over a fence with the eagerness of a marauding viking? Who else would join you for capers before you'd thought of them? Who else would help you get a mule to drink a beer? Who else could listen to you recount your scandals with angelic patience and saintly praise? Who else but Kevin could make a couch feel like a throne? Who else was there for you beyond midnight when you were alone? Who else but Kevin?
In our later years we shared rambles with our brothers, quiet walks down grassy lanes, intellectual journeys across hypothetical seas. We rolled slowly down memory lane and zoomed into dreamy futures. We moped together, hoped together, complained and cheered and spat and cussed together. We sat silently in the song together. We were always shambles in the morning.
Then we missed each other, got caught up and forgot each other, met with smiles when we found each other, and in the thick weeks we lost each other again. Some years are like that. Some lives are like that. Away, but always together.
They say that our lives are either examples or warnings to others. I think Kevin would agree that it's both. In Kevin I am reminded to be myself, at all times and at all costs—and to be a faithful friend to those I love. And I know not to let the rivers of friendship dry during the summer or freeze in the winter.
Kevin, we all loved you, and love you still more than you'll ever know. I'm sure we'll meet again. Goodbye for now."
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