You would have loved him

Hello there, Edmonton.

Things are going to be a little slow around these parts as I’m off to a funeral this week. Thanks for your patience. One of the tough parts about it, as it relates to you, is that you won’t have a chance to get to know the guy who would’ve been your favourite correspondent.

Back in the summer, when Sally and I Skyped for the first time we had the idea of getting our longtime friend and former roommate, Damien Evans, to act as our Ontario Bureau Chief. We were on a “bureau chief” kick at that point. Damien and I also went to college together so I know he would have had the camera presence down, with the broadcast journalism background.

Having more to do with outright hilarity, and not award-winning journalism, we likely would have searched the term “Edmonton” at the Toronto Star’s website and chatted with Damien about whatever stories came up in the search.

It would have been great because Damien was great. His “reports” from the centre of our country would have been something you looked forward to. I just have a feeling about that.

I think you would have enjoyed it because Damien is that guy who always has a story. He’s always got something new to tell you about, he’s always found himself in new and fun kinds of trouble. Even when he didn’t seek out fun, or happen upon it, he would be the person to create the event.

Lots of people say they will live life to the fullest, or they attempt to, Damien did that. I don’t even know if he had to try very hard. It always seemed that he was in a good mood, having a good time.

Being a hockey town, we surely would have chatted sports with Damien at some point. Not only did he bring years of professional wresting (!), grappling, college intramural floor hockey and dodgeball to the table, he was once a catcher with a continuing passion for baseball. He still scored baseball games, at home, when I’m pretty sure I didn’t know that existed anymore.

A Toronto FC season ticket holder, he loved soccer (so he would have been a perfect ringer for my trivia team which stinks at soccer questions) and he could have provided us with his thoughts on some pro soccer in Edmonton.

It really wouldn’t have mattered if there was anything to talk about between Edmonton and Ontario. Damien was funny, smart, generous and had the biggest heart of anyone I’ve known. He was a good soul.

He would have charmed you as he did everyone he met. I’ve seen the guy make new friends in a matter of minutes, in the most random of places, so I can’t see why he wouldn’t have taken on all of Edmonton as a friend.

I miss him. I’m so glad I had a chance to meet him, and call him my friend. Right now, he’s the best reminder that life is unpredictable, and sometimes too short, so you need to stop messing around and enjoy it.

I really am disappointed you won’t get the chance to know Damien. You would have loved him.

Now, the story behind the photo I’ve included in this letter.

It’s about the best one I have of Damien. That’s not to say the quality is the best, I’m pretty sure it was taken on a disposable camera, but it’s one that captures a lot of what I think of when I think of him.

Damien worked for the Toronto Argonauts when we lived with him in Toronto. Well, it just so happens the Argos won the Grey Cup while we were there.

Working as an event coordinator for the team, Damien got to zip around Toronto and area and bring the championship trophy when the Argos were up to something.

Anyway, that meant it spent one or two nights at our apartment. One of my most surreal moments, ever, was coming home to find one of Canada’s most hallowed objects just sitting on the living room table.

You know we had to parade around the neighbourhood with the Cup.

Funny thing though, it was a Sunday or Monday, a slow night, and we ended up at a 24-hour grocery store (Rabba) having a hell of a time convincing the manager we had the real Grey Cup with us. He wanted to know because he was going to buy himself a disposable camera and snap some photos for the store. Eventually, Damien convinced him.

This photo was taken on our way back home. The bar, Aquadisiac, was never busy. We always made fun of it. So, there we were, Grey Cup in tow, expecting to be welcomed into the bar as heroes.

The door was locked.

A guy came running over from the bar. He opened the door a little, and asked us what we wanted. We told him we lived across the street, wanted to come in for a drink and, oh yeah, we had the freakin’ Grey Cup with us. The guy sort of thought about letting us in for a drink. He didn’t let us in.

So, we took this photo. Oh, Aquadisiac, what could have been…

It’s a Swiss Chalet now.