The Good Reverend Kevin Goodwin

  A big curly fro and kind of quiet, was my first impression of Kevin. Little did I know, in a short amount of time he would become one of the best friends I ever had. I met Kevin and Jim at a party the very beginning of my sophomore year. From there on out I hung out with Kevin all the time (Jim was too cool to talk to me much at first). We had a lot in common with music, movies and just little weird things. Every time we hung out, we just laughed and did stupid things. I remember drunkenly dancing on Jolene’s coffee table with Kev and Kari. I also recall not knowing his actual name until Halloween that year; he had been introduced to me as “Pubes.” I felt weird calling him that at first, but he just said, “Everyone else does.” He beautifully phased out that name one year later and became fondly known as “Kev.”

  Once at Beau he danced with a cone and cleared out an entire room. He also came over to eat falafel when I lived in Triad. He made a second sandwich and just sat looking at it. When everyone questioned what he was doing he simply said, “I’m letting the ingredients get to know each other first.” He always had unique and classic answers for everything he did. He became an ordained minister online—“the Reverend Kevin Goodwin.” He married me to about five different people and would recite the marriage speech from the “Princess Bride.” I remember how happy he was when I made him a hemp necklace, he wore it religiously until it almost choked him in his sleep and he was forced to cut it off. I made him a second one, and even though at first he was skeptical of its safety, he still wore it.

  Kevin was such a big part of everyone’s lives—he was a big part of mine. It’s weird being in Glassboro without him and going places, like PB’s, or Rita’s, or even to get air in my tires. He would help me fill them and always brought quarters because I would forget. Once I let him drive the Buick. We went to get gas and he panicked when we pulled into the parking lot because he didn’t remember how to get gas in a car since he hadn’t driven in so long.

  There are a lot of memories with Kev that go back to when I first met him, but my best ones are this past year when him and Corey got together. He was so happy because he was in love. Seeing him that happy was a great thing. Hanging out with them both was also great. We had Fiesta night and played Irish Pub. We were hardcore when playing Taboo. Sometimes Neuman, Jim and Thai would hang out and play too –we all had the greatest times.

  I remember going to the zoo with him twice. The first time we went with Kev and Jim and watched a gorilla attack a peacock. The second, with Corey and Neuman, where we played in some kiddy tree house and climbed on a giant bug. He was part of the “car show crew.” I remember sitting in a Mini with him and people seeming angry because we loitered in it for too long, but there was a lot to look at it that little car.

  I’ll never forget going to concerts with him and everyone else…. like Springsteen when we had to drive back in the worst weather ever. If he didn’t tell me where to go, we would have been stranded in the middle of the Turnpike. Going to see Weezer and him holding his hands up to make a “W.” Reel Big Fish, he quickly told me to turn left, which resulted in some scary man following us. Feztival and getting lost in Camden, going to Chuck’s shows—Kev was their most devoted fan.

  No matter what you needed or when you needed him, Kev was there. He was great in the sense he always knew when something was wrong, and knew if you needed to talk about it or if he just needed to do or say something stupid to cheer you up. He was the most nonjudgmental person. He stuck up for people; I know he stuck up for me. He was wonderful, beautiful; no one has a smile like that or an attitude. No one cares as much as he did. Sometimes, it seemed hard to tell if he did, but when it came down to it, Kevin wore his heart on his sleeve. You could always tell when he was happy, sad, frustrated, or just drunk. He wore his face well, and hid it when needed. He cared so much about people. He was always genuinely happy to see people—to see everyone. He loved his friends and he loved his sister.

  Sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for him to show up wearing his big blue winter jacket, carrying a six-pack of Yuengling and looking crazy. In the morning I expect to go out in the living room and see him staring at the TV or playing Nintendo. No matter what I do or where I go, I will always be reminded of Kevin. Whether listening to Springsteen or Weezer, seeing Pez dispensers, bowling, Yuengling, Nintendo, Taco Bell, Soho Pizza, Bend it like Beckham, records, 80’s music on the radio, paint on a shirt, Hulk Hogan, The Price is Right, robots, Wawa, Connect Four, Clue, Taboo, Glassboro—seeing everyone, anything and everything. There are no bad memories; there is no possible way to have bad memories of Kevin. He was a wonderful person, we all learned a lot from him.

  Kevin had such an impact on people. When it comes down to it, he was the glue that held everyone together, not only because of who he was, but how he was. He accepted everyone and everything for who they were and how things were. He was low maintenance and didn’t own a lot, but cherished what he had. To him, he had everything he needed.

  I am lucky to have known someone so unique, with such charisma. I’m lucky for the impact he had on me, and in that sense, I will never be the same. Nothing else can be said, except for thank you Kev, for being my friend Kev…miss you always.