I not sick

Evan doesn't just fight sickness, he vigorously rejects its very existence. He adamantly denies his runny nose, frequent cough, and rubbed-red face. Evan refuses to go to bed on time, take a nap, skip work, leave a party early, or miss an important social event. 

To compensate, Evan tries to be extra cheerful and positive. Instead of hiding his symptoms, it makes him seem like he is a happy drunk. He smiles more. He flirts more. He gives more hugs and pats on the back. Evan spreads his sunshine - while wiping his nose every minute, coughing like a smoker, and looking like he's about to keel over.

Me: You have a cold!
Evan: I am not cold. I am warm. It is cold outside. 
Me: Touche.

Whose birthday is next?

Roughly once a fortnight, Evan asks me whose birthday is next. I list off all of our siblings, parents, nieces, and nephew in order. He listens patiently until we reach January 12th. At that point his curiosity ends. Sorry Julie.

The result is a kind of like a hit list countdown. "One more sibling down, two nieces to go 'till it's me!"

He gets impatient in March, because it takes a long time until I say his name. Summer is good because my mom, brother, and I all get out of the way quick quick. He really starts asking in September. He forgets when Dean and Eden's birthdays are - they've upset the order of Parker to him.

Finally we get to November 1st. Then his birthday is "soon."

A Big Meal

Evan has hollow legs and can really pound down food. But, he also believes that digestion requires a quick nap on a couch after a feast. After two full plates of Mary's delicious dinner, Evan went to lie down on the couch and let things digest.

Mary: Evan, do you want dessert?
Evan: No. I full.
Mary: We're having ice cream.
Evan: Two scoops please.

Evan Loves Christmas and Lists

Last year Evan cleared out four levels of bookshelves to make space for all of the Christmas stash he would be bringing back from Chicago. This year he bid $500 at the Ward Charity Auction for moving help from a guy in the ward with a truck. When I asked why, he said because he thought we would need help bringing all of our gifts home. 

Ask Evan any day what he wants for Christmas or his birthday and he knows what he will be getting. Well. He knows what he should be getting. Evan maintains a list year-round containing the movies, CDs, books, and more movies that he needs for his comprehensive Michael Bay/Jackie Chan/Selena Gomez collection to be up-to-date. 

On Christmas morning, Evan descends the stairs with his list in hand. As he unwraps each gift, he marks it off with a pen and a satisfied grunt. When all are opened, he is disappointed when a few had not been given. 

Thank goodness for his birthday in two weeks!

Evan Calls

Evan rarely calls me. When he does, he has a purpose. Usually he either needs food, the TV is broken, the DVD player wont play, he had something good for lunch, he got a day off of work or he is trying to know when I will be out of the house so he can do whatever he wants without me being home.

Evan: What time will you be home? 6 o'clock?
Me: No. Probably 8. Or 8:30.
Evan: Great! That's great! Be good. Be smart. <<hangs up>>

Focused on Gomez

Evan believes in the magic of live programming. Even though our DVR saved every episode of Wizards of Waverly Place, Evan would stay up until midnight to see the live broadcast of a rerun episode that was also available on Netflix. If we were up talking, reading, or watching something in the living room at 11:58pm, Evan would kick us off the couch, tell us to go to bed, and then watch his Gomez.

One day, Evan and I were walking to the Metro to leave for a trip to NYC. We would be gone for 3 days and he would miss his regularly scheduled programs. Evan was very focused on his phone, almost tripping over cracks while writing an important text. While Evan typed, Jason pulled up on his bike. He and I chatted for 2 minutes and then Jason continued on his way home. 

Evan finished his text and asked me, "Who was that?" I said, "Jason". Then I received a text forwarded from Jason that he had just received from Evan.

"jason. record my shows. no delet wzards waverly place. imprtant. "

For my Birthday

Last week, Evan came into my room to tell me what he wanted for his birthday. He opened his 200+ DVD case and showed me where there were some empty slots. Evan had already written and applied labels on each of them. He knew what he wanted and where they should go.

• boxing
• math
• men's volleyball (I am assuming BYU)
• alex vs. alex (a Wizards of Waverly Place movie)
• soccer
• Spy Kids 3
• baseball

Late Night Emergency

I received these texts from Evan one night last spring:

• 11:27pm Mon May 5 We pormble dvd payer work
• 11:32pm Mon May 5 Come her
• 11:41pm Mon May 5 Dvd payer not go work
• 12:01am Tue May 6 Help me
• 12:12am Tue May 6 Dvd payer not work

Lovin' that auction action

Evan loves silent auctions. He walks around and writes his name and bid on every sheet that mentions something he loves. CDs! Moving truck! Airport! Sports! Movie! Pizza! Yard Work!

Evan's chores for this week is yard work, so that was a clever idea. I scratched it off though.

Unfortunately, since he doesn't watch "The Price is Right" enough, his price estimation skills are not highly developed. Wanting to win, he wrote the following on every sheet: "EVAN WILSON $500". I discretely followed him around and added a decimal point. We still won a couple of items with "EVAN WILSON $5.00" 

Evan also loves live auctions. The excitement of the rising numbers, the drama of competition, the thrill of winning. However, Evan does not like being outbid and he does not like my budget constraints. I learned from previous experience to sit next to him and help him be involved but also not commit me to a ridiculous purchase.

First, we discussed our highest willingness to pay. On one item that I thought would be worth $30 we had the following discussion:

Evan: How about $420?
Me: That's too much!
Evan: $370?
Me: I don't have that much money! Do you?
Evan: No. How about $350?
Me: How about $30.
Evan: Fine.

Evan bids $10. Another guy bids $20. I tell Evan to bid $30 and he does. Another guy bids $40. Evan yells at the other guy, "Stop doing that!" I tell Evan we cannot go higher and we lose the round.

Exact Spelling

Evan sees the world in black and white. Even spelling.

Walking around town we saw a sign that said “Evans Court”.

Me: "Look it is your name!"
Evan: "No it’s not. My name does not have an 'S'. That Ryan Evans from High School Musical!"

Driving in Arlington, MA we passed Brigham's Ice Cream restaurant. [There are so many places/things named Brigham in Boston. More than in UT. I feel special. And I don't need to spell my name as often.]

I point out the window and say, "Hey look! It is my name on that ice cream restaurant!"
Evan: "No it's not. Your name not have 'S'"
Me: <<sigh>> "You're right."

The Honor

I am no longer the only person at MIT Sloan without a smartphone. Ok. I was the only person at the Pentagon, at church, in Qatar, or any other place.

My iPhone was scheduled to be delivered sometime on Saturday. I had a date 12-2, but someone needed to be home to sign for the package. Evan wanted to go to the library in the morning, but was willing to be back by 12noon. When he is home, he cannot hear the doorbell because he has earphones in and is singing along. So, I asked him for a favor. Probably his favoritest favor ever:

"Could you please lay down on the couch in the family room and watch a movie from 12-2?"

He agreed.

In the end, I got back from the date and the package hadn't been delivered yet. 30 minutes later the doorbell rang. As I came down the stairs, Evan answered the door and the postwoman handed him a pen and the form to sign. When I got to the entryway, Evan held out the paper and pen to me and said, "Would you like the honor?"

Where you from?

Evan loves this question. It is his classic opener in any conversation. Even if he has met you 2-3 times, unless he remembers you, expect this question.

Evan is really good at listening to your response and finding connections. He is pretty well traveled both within and outside of the US and he remembers everywhere his friends have served missions. Mention a city, state, or country and he will ask if you know this one random person that at some point lived there. Rarely is there a small world connection, but the conversational principle is sound.

Answering this question is more complicated. When Evan moved to Utah to study at BYU, he was "from St. Paul, Minnesota" because he was born there. Just to clarify, we NEVER lived in St. Paul. But he's still from there.

A few months later our parents moved to Chicago. Then he was from Chicago. This began the season of Evan believing that you are from wherever your parent currently live.

Me: "Hello, my name is Brigham and I am from Minnesota. This is my brother."
Evan: "Hi. My name Evan. I from Chicago."
Other person: "huh? You're brothers from different places?"

When we moved to Washington DC, suddenly Evan was from Chicago and BYU. Both of them.

When our parents moved to Florida, then he was from Florida. Chicago. Provo. And St. Paul.

Then we moved to Boston.

Unsuspecting friendly stranger: "Hi. Where are you from?"
Evan: "Washington DC Chicago Provo Florida St. Paul"

Mr. Rochester's Wife

Evan loves to sing. Evan loves to sing like a 14th-century monk. Evan loves to sing like a 14th-century monk who is trying to drown out all other sound in the world. He sings with passion, conviction, slightly recognizable words, and 2-3 different notes that can carry over 300 yards.

When we lived on a street that led to the Metro, commuters would walk in front of our house every day. Since Evan's room was on the second floor and he would open the window to let in air, people could hear his singing. Evan would broadcast his sing-a-longs to Newsies or Journey with Joseph with full-throated joy.

One day, an ambulance, police car, and fire truck each pulled up in front of our house. A doctor, cop, and firefighter each came to our door. "We received a report than an old person is in pain upstairs and screaming for help."

We explained that it was our roommate and assuaged their fears that we had locked a Cinderella or Jane Eyre crazy person upstairs. Evan came down and asked why they stopped by. We explained that they wanted to check on him and make sure he was okay. He seemed touched by such concern and service.

Input = Output

At BYU, Evan was able to get skiing lessons in Park City for a steal of a deal. On the ride up I would listen to the XX or Mumford & Sons while he fell asleep; on the way back we would listen to Selena Gomez or Justin Bieber and Evan would not fall asleep.

One time we were driving back and we were 5 minutes south of Heber. Evan told me he needed to go to the bathroom. There were no stores, rest stops, or any sort of human-construction around. Just snow, road, reservoir, and mountains. He normally doesn't give much advanced warning so I asked about urgency, number and if he could wait. Evan said he could wait.

Then he took out a bottle of water. And started chugging.

Me: Aaaah! Stop! What are you doing?
Evan: I thirsty!
Me: (trying to keep eyes on road and car on road while taking bottle) Don't drink water!
Evan: I thirsty!
Me: No. Drinking water makes you need to pee.
Evan: No. I it doesn't.

GPS

Evan is as good with navigating and directions as a normal person. This is very impressive. He can follow maps, recognize landmarks, and learn a route after just 2-3 walk-throughs. However, Evan can be quite literal at describing his surroundings and be impatient with my skills at not knowing exactly where he is.

Once we were shopping at Target and we got separated. I called him and he answered. 

Me: Where are you? 
Evan: I am here!
Me: Where? 
Evan: Between the aisles! 
Me: Are you by food? 
Evan: Yes! (now, annoyed) 
Me: What food? 
Evan: Target food stuff

First

I have been collecting good Evan stories for years. I keep telling myself to write an Olivia-style book, but it never happens. A friend said I should start a blog and for some reason this seemed so reasonable.

So come here for a weekly Evan story every Sunday night. If you have a good one, please send me the details and I'll write it up.