The Riley Brothers

When I started the 1st grade, we lived in California, Missouri and I attended the only elementary school in town. We moved back to my home town of Rolla over the Thanksgiving break, so I actually only attended school there about 3 months. Although I was a very short term member of what would eventually become the CHS graduating class of 1977, I'll never forget those kids, especially a kid named Kent Riley.

Kent had a twin brother named Keith. Keith was bigger than Kent but they both had a flat top and dressed alike, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt they were indeed twins.
I had a flat top too, in fact, I think most of the boys in our school had a flat top. It was 1965 and flat tops were apparently in. That, or they were out and we were just not up with the times. That's a possibility considering California then had a population of less than 3000 people. In or out, it was a nice place to live for a kid growing up in the 60's.

On my last day of school there (which would be the last day I ever attended a class in the California, Missouri R1 school system), I vividly remember playing in the foyer with Kent, Keith, and our mutual friend Brad, while waiting for my parents to pick me up from school. I don't recall what we were playing, but I do remember laughing and carrying on like 6 year old boys are prone to do.
I looked up from whatever we were doing and saw my parents pull up to the sidewalk immediately in front of the side entrance to the school. We all stopped playing and just stood there silently for what seemed like several seconds. I remember the feeling of "this is it"--I was walking out the door and moving to a town that, although only 80 miles away, might as well have been 800 miles away from the perspective of a 6 year old kid.

I recall the distinct feeling of not knowing what I was supposed to say in a situation like this, but ended up saying something to the affect of "See you later guys", as I pushed open the door and started walking down the sidewalk toward our 1959 Chevy Bel Air. As I opened the car door, I turned around and looked back at the school. Standing inside the foyer with his face and hands pressed up against the side glass, was my good friend Kent. He was crying profusely-just like a 6 year old small town school boy. I remember I started crying too and after all these years, I can still see that image of Kent as clearly as if it were yesterday.
That was the latter part of November, 1965 and probably on a Wednesday afternoon, considering we moved away over Thanksgiving. It was the last time I ever saw my buddy Kent.

Kids are resilient and I bounced back, going on to finish out my grammar, Jr. High, and High School career in Rolla, Missouri. Kent and Keith went on to finish their prep school careers in California, according to my Aunt Dee, and Kent has since been a life long resident of Central Missouri.
Over the years, I've wondered from time to time whether or not Kent, his brother Keith, and any of our other mutual friends from Miss Cooks 1965 1st grade class remember me. It's highly possible none of them do, considering my short time there as their class mate, exactly 47 years ago.

Whether or not my old buddy Kent recalls the skinny flat topped kid who moved away less than half way through the first grade, doesn't matter all that much now is suppose, but one things for sure; I still remember him.