Evered Trask walked a lot with his best pal Blueberry.

Not as much as he used to, due to some physical problems, but still more than most. He was a pretty regular crosser of the Footbridge, especially after his most recent move to the old East Side Market location.

A good spot to be checked in on.

Evered collected stuff. His front yard pretty much suggested that. But he worked the returnable market most fervently. We’d often see him heading home with a full charge of bottles and some extra discoveries. He could hang a lot of flotsom off that old cart.

Our daughters always stopped to chat with Evered when they crossed paths…

“How am I spozed to know you?” he’d exhort. “Which one are you?” “Oh, yes, I know you… That picture man’s your dad.” “Here, say hi Blueberry.”

Then he’d get goin’ and goin’ – my how that boy could talk.

And what a hoot it could be to listen, especially when he got good and wound up with a story about his wife, or his father or his mother. You just had to listen and not say much. Evered didn’t hear well, which may have been part of why he talked so loud and continuous.

He was a good one, old Evered. I think he collected more than bottles and stuff – he collected all of us.