TREVOR PIERSON

(This was read by Suzanne, one of Trevor's many friends, at his service)

One way or another, everyone here was lucky enough to have their lives intersect with Trevor Pierson.  Those moments, no matter how brief, usually left a lasting impression.  It could’ve been his warm welcoming smile.  Maybe it was a historical fact that he taught you.  Or, he could’ve been the tall stranger letting you know that you were pushing him a little too hard while leaving a Phillies game.  One way or another, once you met him you usually remembered him.

For the most part, those given the opportunity to spend a little time with Trevor ended up spending a lot of time with Trevor.  Trevor was a fixture in the South Street/Queen Village area.  He was the proud Captain of a local darts team.  He was the friendly face in the local cafes, passing you by on the streets, waiting at the bus stop, or making sure you made a wise, but expensive, purchase at the Sunglass boutique he used to manage.  He probably included a ½ hour lecture about the craftsmanship of Oakleys while you shopped.  Trevor declared the Oakley lens as the top of the line in sunglasses.

Trevor made lifelong acquaintances everywhere he went and became the big brother many of us never had.  If you wore shorts while out on the golf course with him, he’d remind you that only ladies wore shorts on the Tour.  If your putts came up short, he’d loved to tell you to “hit it Sally.”  He taught us if a batter is behind in the count with zero balls and 2 strikes that the pitcher should be throwing a high fastball.  He reminded some of us to appreciate Clint Eastwood’s early Westerns a little more than his recent Space Cowboys. He corrected your bad grammar in a way that let you know it was for your own good and not ridicule.

Trevor’s welcoming nature made him friends around the world.  A ship worker from Sweden named Roy found himself transferred to the states.  Roy sought out a friendly place to share his passion for ice hockey.  If it wasn’t for Trevor, many of us would only know Roy as the foreigner that wore a funny looking hat that played George Thorogood on local jukeboxes.  It was Trevor who put out a warm smile and conversation to Roy and suddenly he wasn’t alone and isolated in a foreign country.  Because of Trevor, Roy became a loud and avid Flyers fan.  When Roy was transferred back to Sweden he trusted Trevor enough to leave behind his odd, but self proclaimed, lucky hat for the remainder of the Flyers’ season under his care.

Before Roy left, it was Trevor who insisted that we find Roy a going away present before he went back to Sweden.  He wanted Roy to have his own Flyers jersey to proudly wear around the streets of Sweden.  Trevor traveled throughout the area to find an elusive 2X orange jersey.  He trekked to the Modell’s in South Philadelphia, Cherry Hill, Port Richmond, Moorestown, and finally, the Roosevelt Mall in the Northeast.  He could’ve ordered one online and shipped it to Roy, but it was important to Trevor to hand it to Roy in person.

Trevor cared for people, but also animals.  On a cold night just before the holidays, Trevor came home to find a skinny and frightened, peach and white cat out on his street without any collar or identification.  Trevor took the cat in, provided her with shelter, food and love.  He named her Peach.  Not Peaches, she was Peach.  She quickly became his favorite all time roommate.

In addition to being a great friend, Trevor’s intelligence never failed to impress.  He’d regularly finish the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle in less than an hour.  He could single-handedly compete against teams of six or eight people in Quizzo.  Trevor knew something about everything.  He could tell you that Catfish Hunter was the last Major League pitcher to have 30 or more complete games in a season or that James Madison was the President historians called the Father of the Constitution.  Trevor was the quintessential Renaissance man.

We will never meet a bigger Phillies fan than Trevor Pierson.  He may have missed a couple of at-bats, but he never missed watching an entire game.  He even watched Spring Training games if his work schedule allowed.  When the Phillies won, many of us watched him weep tears of joy.  He was very proud to have been a partial season-ticket holder for the Championship Season with his brother and thankful to his parents for the gift—even though he’d have heartburn for days after eating a sausage sandwich with peppers and onions at every game.  He just said that they, “smelled too damn good to resist.”

Trevor reminded us that life was simple.  An ordinary walk across town to Barnes and Noble with some friends for a World Atlas or a book of Presidential facts became a memorable moment for him.  A couple of us busted his stones on using his gift cards on another atlas.  He replied, “You can’t go wrong with a good atlas, lad.”

Trevor reminded us daily that life isn’t about fancy clothes and lots of money.  It’s about moments with friends and treating people with care, kindness, and respect.  He lived that and he expected that in return.  If you treated him otherwise, you’d hear about it.  If he saw you treating someone else with disrespect, he’d call you on it.  He practiced what he preached.  He understood life and treated people in a way that we should all aspire to.  Trevor told some of us that he wanted one thing from this life.  He wanted to be remembered for being a good person.  And yes, Trevor Pierson was a good person.