(no subject)
The most well-attended event to come out of Willy Week was Parker Redman's memorial service.
WW was last week. It's basically a week-long party at Rice during which classes still run as usual, but the profs basically give up on assigning homework. It culminates, on the Saturday, in Beer Bike, a combination bicycle race and chugging contest between the eight undergraduate colleges plus the graduate student's association. It's taken very seriously, and the leadup to this one was especially intense as it's the 50th anniversary of the college system.
Only this time, a 20-year-old undergrad was found unconsious in his room at 7:30 Saturday morning. He passed away just under an hour later at one of the hospitals across the street. Beer Bike was cancelled for the first time ever. It's supposed to be relatively clean fun, and how were the students from his college supposed to have a good time?
I only met him once, and it took until Monday afternoon for me to make the connection. All I remember is that he took a few minutes when he probably had better things to do to make me laugh my ass off, for no real reason. That is, according to pretty much everyone who spoke at the memorial, the kind of guy he was.
Julia met him only on the last night of his life. Turned out they were born just 13 hours apart. She thought that was neat. A few hours later, she heard he was dead.
So I went to the service. I kind of questioned whether I really had the right to be there, but the very first thing that was said was that everyone was welcome, however tangential their connection to Parker.
Anyone who wanted to could come up and speak. Over two dozen did. Virtually all of them had a different funny story about him. Funniest memorial ever, and that probably would have suited him just fine.
At the end the students from his college, led by his brother Phil, did three rounds of their college cheer (Baker! Baker! Hell yeah!). Then Phil collapsed and buried his head in his hands.
There wasn't a dry eye in the place.
WW was last week. It's basically a week-long party at Rice during which classes still run as usual, but the profs basically give up on assigning homework. It culminates, on the Saturday, in Beer Bike, a combination bicycle race and chugging contest between the eight undergraduate colleges plus the graduate student's association. It's taken very seriously, and the leadup to this one was especially intense as it's the 50th anniversary of the college system.
Only this time, a 20-year-old undergrad was found unconsious in his room at 7:30 Saturday morning. He passed away just under an hour later at one of the hospitals across the street. Beer Bike was cancelled for the first time ever. It's supposed to be relatively clean fun, and how were the students from his college supposed to have a good time?
I only met him once, and it took until Monday afternoon for me to make the connection. All I remember is that he took a few minutes when he probably had better things to do to make me laugh my ass off, for no real reason. That is, according to pretty much everyone who spoke at the memorial, the kind of guy he was.
Julia met him only on the last night of his life. Turned out they were born just 13 hours apart. She thought that was neat. A few hours later, she heard he was dead.
So I went to the service. I kind of questioned whether I really had the right to be there, but the very first thing that was said was that everyone was welcome, however tangential their connection to Parker.
Anyone who wanted to could come up and speak. Over two dozen did. Virtually all of them had a different funny story about him. Funniest memorial ever, and that probably would have suited him just fine.
At the end the students from his college, led by his brother Phil, did three rounds of their college cheer (Baker! Baker! Hell yeah!). Then Phil collapsed and buried his head in his hands.
There wasn't a dry eye in the place.