Evan Richard Green

Evan Richard Green, born May 7th 1957, passed away at 7:30 a.m. September 29th. His presence in the lives of his family was mighty. And mighty is our sorrow at the departure of this beautiful, intelligent, and sweet man. A man whose very soul was part of us. Words cannot explain Evan nor capture our loss. But beyond tears, words it must be.

Born in El Cajon under the Southern California sun, Evan came into this world curious about how things worked, a wrench off his father's workbench an early favorite toy. That child quickly grew into something of mad scientist, his bedroom a tangle of electrical wires, scattered electronics, disassembled motors, the soldering iron forever smoking on a card table littered with projects. SciFi books cracked open and Star Trek posters pasted on walls.

It's a testimony to his childhood genius that Evan never burnt down the house, as his parents feared. Instead, emerging from the seeming chaos of that bedroom lab, and the young mind attending to it, came handcrafted gadgets like the Blab Off, a homemade remote to mute the TV, for anyone seated on the couch, using a flashlight. Also emerging from that bedroom lab came a lifelong love of radio. Not only did Evan build home radios, his brothers looked on with interest and awe as Evan cold phoned radio stations to win contests or request DJs to play the likes of The Rubber Ducky Song or A Boy Named Sue. Which they did. The mad scientist loved his fun.

In the scenic isthmus of Seattle, driving age formed in Evan a fondness for cars and a flirtation with speed, his teasing with danger the source of sleepless nights for his mom and dad and bafflement for his brothers. The mad scientist inclining less toward electronic science and more toward things mechanical and mad. Yet, this was to be Evan's cliffhanger, his family on the edge of their seats in suspense. What next? Surprising everyone, he emerged from his bedroom lab with something unexpected, something new. This time, the novelty was him.


Here came Evan. Demonstrably anew.

In short order, the reformed mad man became a father of four, a dedicated and adoring dad of Brandon, Leighton, Alaina, and Austin. His mind so smart and creative, it seemed that he could fix absolutely anything—for anybody. And did. Those who'd grown up with the mad scientist were knocked out by the altruistic hero. You could fill pages listing all that Evan could do, his generosity staggering. No one knew this better than his family: all beneficiaries of Evan's largess.
Employers, of course, certainly took notice over the years. Successful and well respected in work life, the inventive Evan scored his name on several U.S. patents. Exuding a can-do optimism, his heart so big, he embodied the words of another wild nature transformed, one whom Evan deeply admired. When John Lennon sang, You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one, Evan had decided to sing along. And join in he did. Though, still, he drove those natty cars. Evan still loved his fun.

In the greater Portland, Oregon, where Evan spent the last decades of his life, he discovered the ultimate thrill. Downhill skiing with his beloved wife Ronda Trotman upon the snowy Oregon Cascade mountains. A safer way to speed, that's for sure. Yet, for that mad kid, it was speed aplenty. Topping off the thrills of skiing, the couple toured the lush countryside of Willamette Valley wineries as the bon vivants with the top down on the convertible. Ronda and Evan were two peas in a pod. They had both found the love of their lives.

All the same, Evan kept vigil on those he loved. Shoulder to shoulder with his dad. Joining as one of the brothers three. Bedrock for his wife, mother, and kids, assisting in all manner of all kinds of things. Eventually, that selfsame boy, once in danger of burning the house down, was, right up to the end, putting to constructive use all that the mad scientist had learned, to make his home with Ronda, as well as his widowed mother's house, hum with safety and assurance. Quite a metamorphosis.

Thing is. You could fill pages listing all the ways that Evan loved his family. Loved and inspired them. Demonstrating with his own life that our very souls could be tinkered with. And, perhaps, repaired.

Husband. Son. Brother. Father. Grandfather. Uncle. Friend. Evan Green was much more than one man in the world. He was a huge and loving soul among other loving souls. All of us shared in the mystery of life with Evan, the joys and heartbreaks, as if we were one spirit moving through time together, each to our own end. We will miss Evan terribly, as if part of our very selves had wandered off. And for the rest of our lives we will wait with a candle by the window for his return.

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