Our Friend Travis: The Travis Alexander Story

2014.

Chapter One

Travis Alexander’s Early Life

Written with the help of Deanna Reid.

Travis would often repeat several of his funny sayings and movie quotes.

Here are a few of our favorites:

Word to Big Bird, ya big nerd!

Is a ten-pound robin fat?

San-dee-ah-go! - Ron

Burgundy, Anchorman

Travis Victor Alexander was born on July 28, 1977, to Gary and Pamela Alexander in Riverside, California. He had two older brothers, Gary and Greg, and five younger siblings, Tanisha, Samantha, Hillary, Steven, and Allie. He was an adorable child, with green eyes and full lips. He had the look of a king’s son, but his life was far from that of a prince. The following is an excerpt from his blog recalling his life as a small boy in his own words. We did not edit his writing. (http://travisalexander.blogspot.com)

My childhood, unfortunately, was very much like any child’s that had drug addict parents. My father was never around, which left my siblings and I to the fate given by my mother, a good woman, with the intent at an early age to be a loving mom. A few poor decisions changed that. As she progressively got more involved in drugs, she progressively got less capable of raising children. Most commonly was a beating for waking her up. It hurt, but we got used to it. I learned how to turn so that when she hit me she would strike my back and arms. The pain was less there. If it was just that, I think it would have been relatively manageable. It was not, however. You see, when you are high on meth for a week, when you eventually come down there is a lot of sleep to catch up on. When you sleep for four days with a house full of kids, there isn’t any food cooked. We would eat what was there, but before long what was edible would be eaten or rot, and then what was rotten would be eaten too. I don’t remember much of this. I can only think of one instance where I found a piece of moldy bread on the side of the fridge which represented the last thing we could eat. I remember being teased by canned food, knowing full well what was in the can but not knowing how to use a can opener.

I remember the filth, admittedly caused by us kids, that compounded on itself for weeks and months at a time. With that came thousands and thousands of roaches. My sisters and I found some amusement in the fact that an entire colony of albino roaches had broken out so that house looked like a bunch of moving salt and pepper crawling on everything. To this day, I only have one phobia, roaches. There was nothing more disgusting to me than to wake up to feel roaches crawling on my body. The good news is that we finally lost that house. The bad news is, our next option was to live in a camper shell in my Aunt’s back yard. We kept it next to the Garage where the washer and dryer were. The washer wasn’t hooked up to plumbing so the dirty water would drain into the back yard and stagnate there. We were there for more than a year our home four feet tall, five feet wide and six feet long, my mother, my three sisters and I. We didn’t have the convenience of bathing every day, so we tended to stink. I didn’t mind going without a bath that much really. I was a boy, and like most, didn’t have a problem being dirty. But I was scared of bathing because I once got the bathroom floor wet and my mother accused of me of urinating on the floor and threw me half way through a wall.

School wasn’t much better, when your clothes are as dirty as the rest of you, and you stink, and have lice, you don’t make a ton of friends. Sadly, as you could imagine, I was mocked for my appearance. Nothing too harsh, nowhere close to what was said at home. I will not give much detail on that as I feel it is inappropriate to state. I will say though, I have never heard in any movie, on any street corner, or amongst the vilest of men any string of words so offensive and hateful, said with such disgust as were the words that my mother said to my sisters and I. I remember my mother emptying a revolver on the car my father was driving and my father subsequently taking an axe to my mother’s belongings and destroying them. I remember being on the other side of the front door when my father kicked it down. The police were called that time along with many others, but I knew what had to be said, and knew they would leave us to more of the same. I remember the day I came to the conclusion there was a God. I was 6. I screamed as loud as I could all day long for my nearby grandmother to get me and take me for the weekend. I screamed so long and loud that I actually woke up my comatose mother long enough to beat me for waking her up. When she went back to bed, I went back to screaming to God. Sure enough that evening, my grandmother came and picked me up, while my mother slept. I could go on and tell you more of mine, and worse stories of my siblings, but I think enough has been said. I will say that this is nothing, nothing at all compared to the whole of it. This continued until I was ten, when I ran away and I never came back.

During this time, I could think of two fond memories of my childhood. The first was Sesame Street. My Sisters and I watched it every day and it took our minds to Sesame street where kids were happy and learning. It took our minds away from Allwood Dr. where we got the hell beat out of us. The other was visiting the home of my Great-Grandfather, Vic.

My Mother didn’t have very much family, and even less that she got along with, but she adored my Grandfather Vic. He only lived about an hour away from our family in southern California, but it was rare that she was in any condition that she’d let Vic see her in. About twice a year, my Mother would fix herself and us up enough for a visit with my Grandfather. For the most part, our visits would be stereotypical. He’d take us out for pizza, to walk his dogs, play checkers and with other toys he kept for us, and taught me how to write the alphabet.

However, there was one thing that was out of the ordinary about our visits. Every time before my Mother, siblings and I would leave, I would go to hug my Grandfather goodbye. Without exception, before I received my coveted hug, the cheery casual countenance of my Grandfather would change to something very serious. He would then grab me by my shoulders and shake me, then would follow these words, these words that alter every aspect of my life, Travis, you need to know that you are special, that there is not anything that you can’t do. There is something great inside you. You’re special Travis, don’t you ever forget it. That was quickly followed by a rigid hug that would squeeze the breath out of me.

Now there is an easy explanation for why my life has been, in my opinion, amazing. It is the same reason I have had success financially and otherwise. It is the same reason I feel that every facet of my life has been blessed and continues to be more and more every day. The reason is that the words my Grandfather said were spoken with such conviction that I believed him. You see, what I wasn’t aware of then, that I have since figured out was my Grandfather was savvy to the way Mother was raising her children. She would often make remarks while coming down from drugs about how miserable we all were, that we ruined her life, that we were worthless. Although those words hurt very deeply, as you could imagine, every time she would scream those words I would hear his words instead. Every time I would feel her fist sink into my back, I could feel my Grandfather’s hands on my shoulders, and I knew she couldn’t reach what was great inside of me. And again I’d hear the words You’re special Travis, don’t ever forget it. Then in my mind I would think, This woman has no idea what she is talking about, she doesn’t know that I am special. No matter how loud she’d yell those colorful words, she could never top the conviction of my Great-Grandfather Vic. Since then I have come to realize two things. First, my Great-Grandfather was right, I am special. I took his advice; I never forgot it and I never will. Second, I have learned I am no better than anyone else.

Travis moved in with his grandparents, Jim and Norma Sarvey, when he was eleven years old. Travis used to quote Abraham Lincoln when referring to his grandmother. Changing the quote slightly, he would say, All I am, or can be, I owe to my angel (grand) mother.

When Travis first started high school, he was very shy. He went to Rubidoux High in Rubidoux, California, and most of the time, he would eat lunch in the library all by himself. School was very difficult for him. One experience caused him a lot of trauma, but perhaps it also inspired him to be the kind and compassionate person that he became. Travis was a little chubby, and he had a large rear-end and thighs. He had a pair of white Levi jeans that were too small and very tight. While he walked down the hallway at school, kids would follow behind him and chant, Up, down, up, down, making fun of the fact that his jeans would ride up his rear-end as he walked. Travis shared this story with us, and others, on multiple occasions. Travis carried an incredible burden, just trying to survive his home life, and that burden was made worse by some of the cruelty and bullying he experienced in school. Those experiences made Travis a defender of the less fortunate, the underdog, and those who could not protect themselves.

Travis considered himself to be an introvert, but he started to break out of his shell after he became active in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormon church) when he was sixteen years old. Church was a place of solace and safety for him. He was accepted there, and he began to thrive. He developed friendships that would last a lifetime, but he also developed a burning desire to serve God, as a missionary, and to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ on a full-time basis.

After high school, Travis worked to save money in an effort to pay for his mission-related expenses. He was assigned to serve in Denver, Colorado, and surrounding areas. He served from 1996 to 1998. During his mission, on July 28, 1997, Travis’s father, Gary, was killed in a motorcycle accident. It was Travis’s birthday. Gary had cleaned up in the latter years of his life and was working on mending relationships with his children. Gary made a video for Travis just shortly before his death, telling Travis that he was proud of him and that he loved him. In this video, Gary was getting ready for church while looking into the camera asking Travis if he was proud of him for going to church.

Travis went home just long enough to lay his father to rest, and then he immediately returned to complete his two-year mission. He returned from his mission in 1998 and began attending a singles-only congregation (referred to as singles wards) in Riverside, California, shortly after. Singles’ wards in the Mormon Church are for single members of the church between the ages of eighteen and thirty-one. Travis loved attending and serving in his singles’ ward. He loved to be social, hang out, and date, and he went out of his way to make friends with everyone.

His church and spiritual life were very important to him. Long after his full-time missionary service had concluded and until his death, Travis remained a missionary. He was always striving to find those who were searching for something more, so he could share his knowledge of the Gospel with them. Mormons are prolific record keepers and lead the world in genealogical efforts. Mormons have the largest genealogical library in the world. Doing his family’s genealogy was very important to Travis. It was exciting for Travis to locate the records of his deceased family members and link his family tree together. This was a passion of his and brought him great joy.

Travis worked many different jobs in search of a career, but none of them seemed to work out. He prayed that he would find something, and while he was praying, he felt an impression to talk to Chris Hughes. Meanwhile, Chris had been praying for someone who could be a leader in his developing business with Pre-Paid Legal—someone with the same vision he had.

Chapter Two

How We Met Travis

Travis would often randomly break into song, frequently accompanied by dancing, head banging, etc. The messages he left on voicemail were often sung. His favorites were anything by Neil Diamond, the Ramones, the Smiths, Morrissey, Jack Johnson, Outkast, and old ska bands like the Hippos and the Aquabats. Travis would sometimes enter the room singing at the top of his lungs, doing high kicks … it was quite a sight. Sadly, Travis had tickets to a Neil Diamond concert in September 2008. This was three months after he died.

Chris:

My parents divorced in 1986. Two of my brothers, my dad, and I moved from Benbrook, Texas, where I’d lived for most of my life, to Ft. Worth, Texas. I started high school as a five-foot-two-inch, ninety-five-pound fourteen-year-old who, with my long, bleached-blonde hair, and hairless, acne free face, looked like a little girl. Other than my twin brothers, who were a year ahead of me, I only knew one or two other people in the entire school.

I prayed that I would find a friend quickly so I could better integrate into my new school, but my hopes were dashed on the very first day. I was sitting at my desk, pretending to be looking through my backpack for something, when a long haired, tough guy sat down next to me and yelled, Who’s this prepubescent-looking motherf*****? Everyone started to laugh. Prepubescent, I thought. What’s that?

It sounded a little like puberty and I knew pre meant before, so I deduced that he was suggesting I was before puberty or hadn’t yet hit puberty. He was right, and now everyone in my class knew it too. I sat there feeling like a fool, counting the minutes before class would be over, hoping I would have better luck at finding a friend in my next class.

I did end up making some good friends that year and every year I was there. Four years later, on graduation day, I watched many of those friends graduate. I was up in the stands looking down on the class of 1990. They were all there except me. I’d failed my senior year and would be doing it all over again in 1991. As I sat there pathetically sad, embarrassed, and humiliated, I made a feeble attempt to console myself. Hey, it’s okay. These are my good friends. They will be going off to college soon, but they will stay in touch. They will write me letters and call me from time to time.

A year later, I found myself up in the stands again, watching all of my friends from the class of 1991 walk the graduation walk and get their diploma. I failed my senior year … again. A deep sense of sadness came over me as I watched some of my very best friends walking the stage. I thought, That’s okay. These are my good friends. They will stay in touch and come to see me from time to time … And then everything stopped. It was as if the entire gym went silent and even ceased to exist. I felt sick. Last year, I had been sitting in this exact same spot watching my class and my friends graduate without me. A full year had passed, and none of my friends from 1990 had ever called, written, or come to see me. Not one.

A few months later, I started school again. I would be entering my senior year for the third time, a total of six years in high school. Six years in high school seemed terribly excessive. It still does. It was like the movie Groundhog Day, but rather than having to relive the same day, I was reliving the same year, year after year. I couldn’t believe it. Who goes to high school for six years? I wondered. Then I answered my own question. I do.

Though I had reached near-legend status at school, and I had more friends than I had time to hang out with, I was different. I had changed. My friends were fun, but they were no longer my priority. I had to graduate. And I did. In 1992, I walked my own graduation walk. I gave my principal a bear hug as he handed me my hard-earned diploma. The crowd went wild. It was pandemonium. I didn’t stop crying for hours.

Although I stayed in touch with a few friends from the classes of 1991 and 1992, I no longer put an emphasis on friendship like I did as a vulnerable freshman. Friends would come and go in my life, but all the while, I was emotionally guarded. I didn’t want to invest too heavily in a friend, and I didn’t want to let anyone in, perhaps for fear of being hurt, abandoned, and forgotten as I had experienced so many times before. But all of that would change when I met Travis.

I graduated from high school in 1992. From 1992 to 1994, I served a two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After my mission, I attended Utah Valley State College for a couple of years before dropping out and moving back to Texas. I bounced around from job to job, and college to college, before finally dropping out for good. Knowing I wasn’t going back to college, I felt the pressure to get something going in my life.

At one of my previous jobs, I was introduced to the concept of personal development and a book entitled, Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill. As a young man, Napoleon was commissioned by the steel magnate, Andrew Carnegie, the richest man in the world at the time, to dedicate twenty years of his life to interviewing the world’s most successful people and then write a book on the philosophy of success. Napoleon accepted the challenge, did the research, and wrote the book, Think and Grow Rich.

I was intrigued with the title of the book, and I devoured it. One of the success strategies he taught in the book was the concept of the mastermind. Napoleon defined the mastermind as, Coordination of knowledge and effort, in a spirit of harmony, between two or more people, for the attainment of a definite purpose. Said another way, it is when two or more minds come together for a positive purpose which creates a third and more powerful mind. This was all new to me, but it sounded like a good idea, so I talked to my brothers and their wives about the idea of having a weekly mastermind meeting where we could come together and support each other for the purpose of becoming more successful in our lives. Everyone liked the idea, so we moved forward.

Our second mastermind meeting was held in my brother Mike’s government-subsidized apartment in Valley Ranch, Texas, right across the street from the Dallas Cowboys practice field. When there was a short gap in the conversation, my sister-in-law Cindy nervously said there was something she and her husband, my brother Jeff, wanted to share with us. She pulled out a VHS tape and put it in the VCR. I will never forget the first sentence of that video: Pre-Paid Legal Services, Inc., the #1 performing company on the American Stock Exchange! It got my attention, and when the video ended twelve minutes later, I made a decision to change careers.

Pre-Paid Legal Services, Inc. (known as LegalShield as of the writing of this book) offers a membership which gives individuals, families, and businesses access to some of the best attorneys in the country for as little as $20 a month. I thought the concept was phenomenal and bought the service for myself right away. Additionally, Pre-Paid Legal allows their independent associates to recruit other people to share the service. Jeff and Cindy recruited me into Pre-Paid Legal on September 15, 1999, and I had a new lease on life. I had been praying to God for an opportunity to better my life, and I felt like this was it.

Like starting any new job or business, the first few months were awkward and clumsy, but really fun and exciting. I was earning a few hundred dollars per month right out of the gate, and by the end of my first year, I was earning thousands of dollars a month … more money than I had ever earned in my life.

In April of 2001, my brothers, Mike and David, and I moved to Riverside, California. We’d heard business was booming in Southern California, and we wanted to see if we could tap into some of the momentum. One of the first things I did when I got to Riverside was to find the local singles’ ward. I discovered there was a ward in Riverside and began attending each Sunday, as well as participating in the many social activities.

A couple of weeks after I began attending that ward, the congregational leader, called a bishop (similar to a pastor), asked to see me. After getting acquainted, he asked me if I would be willing to teach one of the Sunday School classes. I enthusiastically accepted the opportunity. During one of the lessons I taught, I read the following poem by W. Livingston Larned, as quoted by Dale Carnegie in the book, How to Win Friends and Influence People.

Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, Goodbye, Daddy! and I frowned, and said in reply, Hold your shoulders back!

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. What is it you want? I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

After I finished reading the poem, I ended my lesson for the day. Then a nice-looking, stocky, dark-haired, green-eyed guy I had seen in church a couple of times, and perhaps shared a hello or two with, walked right up to me and enthusiastically exclaimed, "Father Forgets from How to Win Friends and Influence People!"

I was surprised he knew the book! It was written in 1936. You read that stuff? I blurted out with excitement.

Absolutely! he said. I friggin love that stuff!

Me too, man, I said. That stuff has changed me life!

Then he put out his hand and said, Travis Alexander.

We shook hands as I thought to myself, I like this guy.

A God Thing

The weeks before I met Travis were among the worst weeks of my life. I was living with my brother David and his family in an apartment in Riverside, California. Both of us were in a serious slump in our businesses, and because we didn’t have jobs and were doing the business full time, we had fallen behind on our bills. We were sharing a car until the repo man came and took it, and there was a three-day notice hanging on our apartment door. We split rent fifty-fifty, and both of our rent checks bounced. We had three days to pay rent, plus late fees, or move out. Dave came up with his half somehow, and at the very last moment, a friend of mine came to my rescue and lent me $600, my half of the rent.

I had been living below the poverty line for the better part of a decade before I started my Pre-Paid Legal business, but I had never experienced financial stress like I was enduring at that time. I had been self-employed for nearly two years, but things weren’t going well, and I was considering getting a job.

One Friday afternoon, I called a friend who worked for a mortgage company in Riverside, the same friend who’d lent me the money, and asked him if his company was hiring. He said they were, and expressed that he felt confident I could get the job. He gave me his manager’s number, and I called him immediately. He hired me over the phone and told me to start my training the following Monday.

That weekend, I agonized over this decision. I needed the income badly, but the hours I would be required to work would prevent me from attending my weekly Pre-Paid Legal meetings. On Saturday, I began fasting.

In the Mormon Church, fasting is a regular practice. One day per month, typically on the first Sunday of every month, practicing members will go without any food or drink for a twenty-four-hour period of time. During this time, they remain spiritually, emotionally, and mentally focused on a particular desire, and pray for that desire during their fast. For example, one might fast to overcome a personal weakness, or perhaps for a friend or family member who is sick. Mormons fast for virtually any reason, and they donate the money saved on the meals they didn’t eat to the poor and needy of the church. On this occasion, I fasted specifically for a leader to come into my business who would help me turn things around. I spent much of that Saturday evening in prayer asking God to bless me with a leader.

While I didn’t know it at the time, another man was praying over his financial stress that same Saturday night when I was praying for a leader for my business. He was praying for an opportunity.

Travis Alexander found himself at a dead-end in life. He felt distraught and helpless, so he reached out to God for help. As he was pouring his heart out to God, he said he heard a voice say, Talk to Chris Hughes.

Travis was the Sunday School president at the singles’ ward we both attended, and I was a Sunday School teacher. One of Travis’s duties as the Sunday School president was to attend each of the Sunday School classes to see how they were going and to offer feedback, suggestions, and to help any teachers who needed it. That Sunday, Travis attended my Sunday School class, the class where I read the poem, Father Forgets . It was a God thing. As Travis used to say, God answered two prayers that night. As a result, Travis and I would bless each other’s lives in special and unique ways, and we would become best of friends, business partners, and brothers.

Hear Travis tell this story at www.ourfriendtravis.com/god-thing

Travis Alexander and Chris Hughes

Travis Alexander and Chris Hughes

Sky:

I met Travis at church in 2001. He was great! He was so friendly and so funny. He would say hello to everyone, and he always tried to make sure that everyone was included. It seemed like Travis was loved by everyone, and he was involved in everything. So many people considered Travis their best friend and many considered him family. Women loved Travis’s charm. Naturally, this made him unpopular with some of the guys. Even the guys who didn’t want to like him always liked him when they got to know him. My friend Shari and I would often try to leave church a little early, only to be met in the parking lot by an overzealous Travis, encouraging us to stay a little longer. Fortunately for Shari and I, he succeeded more than he failed.

Travis Alexander on a cruise. (This is one of my favorite pictures of Travis. I love that Travis was just Travis. He didn’t care if people stared.)

After Travis joined Pre-Paid Legal, he would come to mine and Shari’s apartment while we were at work. He would study the scriptures, read personal-development books, set goals, make phone calls, and often wash any dishes we might have left in the sink. He would often leave funny notes or pictures he had drawn, or an inspirational quote on the counter before he left. Chris and Travis had become really good friends. They spent a lot of time together, goofing off, chasing women, and working on their businesses. I began hanging out with him and Chris. Chris and I lived in the same apartment complex, which was interesting, because we met originally while living in the same apartment complex in Provo, Utah, when we were going to college. We were friends in college (well, more like frienemies), but had since lost touch with one another. It was wild that we ended up moving into the same apartment complex again, in another state, seven years later.

I had a boyfriend and Chris had many girlfriends, but for some reason, Chris, Travis, and their friends decided that Chris and I were destined to be married. I would spend all day at work only to be barraged by a dozen or more messages on my cell phone from complete strangers. Some of the messages were singing, made-up poems, and raps about how I should dump my boyfriend and marry their friend Chris. Chris left all sorts of messages and would leave poems, notes, gifts—some strange, some cute—on my car every day. I had already broken up with my boyfriend, but I wasn’t going to tell them that! It became overwhelming.

Finally, I had had enough. Chris called me from a party, and I asked if I could talk to Travis, who was also there. I told Travis that Chris and I would never get married and he needed to tell him to cool it! Travis tried to talk me out of my resistance to the whole idea, but to no avail. He was at my house the first thing the next morning trying to convince me that Chris was the guy for me and that I should give it a chance. It worked. Chris and I began dating and were soon married. I owe it all to Travis that Chris and I are married.

Even after we married, Travis was still a wonderful friend. He was often at our house or on a trip with us. We sat together at Pre-Paid Legal leadership banquets and at our conventions. Travis made everything fun. He was part of our family, and our two boys, Ryell and Zion, loved him! When they knew he was coming for a visit, the kids would sit and stare out the window waiting for the T-Dogg to show up, which was how Travis would refer to himself, always in the third person. Chris and Travis would talk business, and Travis and I would talk about his social and romantic life.

Travis was excellent at acknowledging his weaknesses and working on them. He never became offended if someone talked with him about a character weakness they had observed in him. He would want to discuss it in great detail and decide on ways he could improve and become a better person. He always asked me what I thought about the girl he was dating, because you are gonna have to hang out with her, he often reminded me. He talked about the vacations and adventures we would all take together when he finally found the right woman to marry.

I was really hard on Travis, especially when it came to women. I am sure I drove him nuts most of the time. I never told him what he wanted to hear. I always told him how I really felt, even if it took him by surprise or hurt his feelings. Looking back, I can’t figure out why he kept calling me for dating advice. I hope it was because he knew that I loved him and wanted what was best for him. I worried about him constantly, and I pestered him all the time. He was like a little brother. My siblings know I am obnoxious, and I can even be a real jerk sometimes. Travis was right. I was going to have to hang out with whomever he married, so I would facetiously remind him that this meant I had a say in who he dated. I know I bugged him and frustrated him to no end, but he was always sweet and never got upset with me—except once, and I deserved it.

One of the many things I admired about Travis was his desire and ability to always find opportunities to serve. One of my favorite stories was before he started his business with Pre-Paid Legal. He worked at the Tyler Mall in Riverside, California. Each day, as he drove to work, he would pass the same homeless man on the off-ramp. He would often strike up a conversation with him while waiting at the light, and they became friends. One day, Travis brought him home, let him shower, and gave him some of his clothes and a pair of shoes. Then they headed out to find the man a job, which they did, at a Subway restaurant. That was Travis. While many others looked away from this man and his troubles, driving right by him in the comfort of their cars, Travis engaged him, befriended him, and changed his life. I imagine he will never forget Travis, ever.

Travis always thought he would die young, and he talked about this on more than one occasion. The last time I remember him talking about it was in our living room in early 2007. I wonder if the thought of him dying young pushed him to do more and to be better.

I feel like I have done an injustice describing Travis. It’s like I don’t have the words to do him justice. As I sat up late, staring at the computer and thinking about how I could fix this, I realized that Travis was someone who had to be experienced. He was special because the way he made people feel. When you left Travis, you always felt loved and that you were a better person than you were before spending time with him.

Sometimes, people tend to aggrandize those who have passed on, but I hope you will realize that this is not the case with Travis. Most people, myself included, just fit in. We can go through life without a second glance. But Travis was different. He stood out. He stood out everywhere and in everything he did. He made a positive difference wherever he went. We are not saying he was a wonderful person because he is no longer with us. He really was a wonderful person. Certainly not average, and I would even venture to say that he was one of a kind. How many single thirty-year-old guys do you know who make hygiene kits for the homeless, and then deliver the packages while engaging in deep conversations with people who are shunned by society? What single twenty-something-year-old do you know who has brought a homeless man to his house, then feeds, showers, and clothes this man and takes him job-hunting? Travis was the guy Hallmark movies are made about! He really did exist! Travis was the guy who asked the lonely girl who was standing in the corner to dance, and he would dance with her and compliment her. He was the guy