I played soccer at the Soccer Academy with Chris, and he was such a great friend, right from the beginning. I also attended Bill Fischer's soccer camps with Chris. We were "soccer buds" and would always converse at practice. During the summers, when he would come back to Florida, I would hang out with him at parties and soccer functions. I don't think I can remember a time when he was ever negative, sad, or down. Being around him made me a happier, better person, and for that, I will NEVER forget Chris. He will be forever missed but never forgotten.

Sincerely,
Teryn

"It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it is the journey that matters in the end." - Ursula Le Guin

Chris played one year of soccer at Hopkins, and I was a teammate of his. "I even had the priviledge to take Chris on his recruiting trip when he was just a senior in high school." He was already loving the college life and was eager to start his tenure at Hopkins. "I will also remember the goal he scored during his freshman year against King's college- a banger from the right side of the field that went far-post upper-90. "He celebrated that goal with no reserve and talked about it for weeks afterwards. "A great memory. - Michael Cordeiro

Chris and I were good friends since sophomore year of high school. In high school, he had an obsession with Betty Boop - he always had a different Betty Boop air freshner in his car every time I saw him.

Sophomore year of college, Chris carted all of my sorority sisters around on our bid day, drove us to the bars, bought us drinks, played photographer for us. He had never met any of my college friends before, but after five minutes, he seemed like he was their best friend too.

That's the main thing I'll always remember about him - he was the kind of friend who always had a kind word to say and always made everyone feel special. I'll miss him every day of my life and will always cherish that I got to be a part of his life.

~ Ashley West (Columbia, SC)

Chris was someone who once you met you would never forget. He was upbeat, personable, very outgoing and always ready to meet new people and take on new adventures. Chris is remembered by many as a great friend who was well-liked and respected. He never hesitated to stand up for what he thought was right, and he was compassionate, dedicated, and loyal. Chris was thought of highly by faculty and students alike. He made a tremendous difference to us all. Chris was, is and always will be our friend.

---

President Brody's Remarks at Memorial Service

On these occasions we instinctively turn to our families. That is why we are here today. This morning we see and we feel that this community of Johns Hopkins is more than a collection of teachers and students. We are a family, tied by our aspirations, united in our sense of the possible, and in our hope for the future. And on this morning, we are bound together in our sorrow.

Abraham Lincoln once said, "In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years." Over the weekend, at the hospital, my wife Wendy and I saw the tremendous outpouring of love and affection that came to Chris from his family, his friends and his fraternity brothers, and we thought, here is someone whose years have been full of life indeed. In celebration of that life this morning, we will hear from Chris's uncle George, from two Hopkins classmates of his father Kip, and from any of you who would care to stand before us and talk about Chris. Perhaps in talking, we will understand Chris's life a little better.

But we will never understand his death.

Many of you here today, on the cusp of adulthood, have yet to experience the roller coaster exhilaration of being parents. For those of you who one day do so, you will find there is no greater challenge--to your stamina, to your intellect, and occasionally, to your patience. Nor, for that matter, is there likely to be in your life any greater reward. Children make us aware of how much we value life, and at the same time, they remind us a thousand different times just how fragile life can be.

Not many years ago, a Hopkins physician had a six-year-old son who developed leukemia. After a valiant struggle, the boy died. And his father, reflecting that despite their very best efforts they could not save their son, came to realize the only absolutely sure thing he had in his relationship with his son was his love for him. And so he wrote about his experiences, and in particular, he wrote this to other parents who grieve: "May we all find peace in the shared hope that our children who brought us such joy with their short lives are now a host of angels, loving us still, feeling our love for them, awaiting our coming, and knowing that they are safely locked forever in our hearts."

Today, we feel intensely the loss of Chris Elser. But we can be sure that the love his family and his friends have for him will not diminish, and we take comfort in knowing that love will continue, as long as we remain.

This is a day of excruciating sadness for every one of us at Johns Hopkins. In this hour of loss, we think of the words of John Greenleaf Whittier, who so aptly described what we feel:

"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been.'"

God bless you all.

Wonderful beautiful boy
Young man who had a future

A future to burn and spin and soar
a blue-skied, bright-eyed future
in business or economics or
entrepeneurial ventures �
whatever the field he entered.

A future of late-night horse sales at Saratoga
with his dad by his side
hearing the glorious intonation,
"Sold!"
and the gavel slamming down.
A future of quiet summer evenings in Camden,
in South Carolina, the state he loved,
listening to country music with his mom.

A future of kicking the soccer ball
and perhaps getting passed once in a while
with the sister he always talked about
bragged about
doted on
and tried not to spoil.

Young Hopkins man
Athlete with quick feet
and a touch of a temper
we ache for him, yearn for him, wish he were here.

His grandfather,
81-year old veteran of war,
said, "Why not me?"

Beautiful boy who loved a prank
came out to my farm
built the fences
rode the ponies
played the trick on his girlfriend.

Laughed in my truck
shot sparks from his eyes
when he looked at Kyra
sparks of heat and love and wonderment
excitement at all that lay ahead.

Laughed at the absurdity of
bouncing in a 30-year-old truck
around a field
putting up fences
for a gray-haired
Hopkins classmate
and running mate
of his father.

His father
With whom he wrestled
To whom he strove to prove himself
Against whom he measured himself.
His father
Whom he loved.

And we loved Christopher's Energy �
Thoreauian, Whitmanesque, Kerouacian �
Devoted to the study of economics?
That's Hopkins for you.
The economics that Christopher engaged in
Would not have been Keynesian...
Would not smell of the chalk dust in Gilman Hall
It would sparkle and sizzle and dazzle.

The Johns Hopkins University that
Christopher's father, godfather, and I,
classmates here three decades ago,
respect and take great pride in,
will take this tragedy
and transform
the tears and sadness and despair

The wretched irony
of being murdered in your own fraternity house

The horror
The emptiness
The reality of murder in Baltimore
of living in a city in America
where one can't sleep safely at night....

The alumni and students of Hopkins will convert this nightmare
Make it a catalyst
Allow it to ignite a passion in their lives
A desire in their studies
An ambition in their vocation
A loyalty to their family, friends
A tenderness for their lovers.

We will most honor Christopher
by living
every shimmering moment
to the fullest.

By exuding
positive energy
and creative ideas

By appreciating every electric moment of life

That's what Christopher did so well....

That sometimes, when I saw him, when I spoke to him
and looked into his wide-awake eyes

Whether it was at 1:00 a.m. at the Parting Glass in Saratoga Springs
or 1:00 p.m. in the cafeteria here on the campus
or at dusk throwing rails out of a pick-up truck

I was jealous, envious,
and even in awe.
Christopher grew and learned and loved here
He ran and kicked and played hard here
He refined his quick wit here
He laughed and studied and made plans here
And now, he's gone...?

We mustn't let him leave.
We must allow his spirit and example to hover,
to be an inspiration
to every one of us.

That's what I'm going to do.

I'm going to remember that smile
Remember those sparks in his eyes
Remember that way he could walk, bounce,
light, agile, athletic,
giving off a sense of dynamic good will
at any time of day or night.

I'm going to take that
distill it in my soul
and when a dark day comes along
I'll reach down,
uncork it,

And let the spirit of an angel fly.