Chandler was the son of my baby sister's kindergarten teacher. He and my sister were about the same age and were always in violin group together, so I sort of felt like he was a very distant younger cousin.
All I have are silly, weird memories. He bleached his hair one year, at some point in the '90s when only girls really bleached their hair, and I saw it growing out at Suzuki Institute. It was the exact color of chocolate chip cookie dough on the bleached ends, and chocolate-colored underneath, and for some obscure teenage reason I thought that was hilarious.
Later, we were both in a SFAC poetry class together, one right after the rehearsals for the play Chandler was in. Rehearsals always ran late, so Chandler was always about five minutes late to poetry class. One day I had trouble saving something in the computer lab and came in even later than Chandler, who had become the class benchmark for late arrival. To make up for my tardiness, I wrote a very surreal poem to explain the chain of events, starting with the disk problems, involving campus security, and finally an alien abduction. (I'll have to dig it out next time I'm back home.) The poem was called "Later than Chandler", and that's how I'll remember him: coming in a little late after rehearsal, but always with this incredible energy and creativity that you had to be truly surreal to even think of topping.