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It is early morning on the farm. Another school day. My brothers and I board the bus and criss-cross over the country-side, making stops along the way for the other rural students. One of our last stops before shooting into Longmont High School is at the Thomas residence. Barry is waiting at the gate. He springs on board and finds a sear forward and to my right. He is a slightly rough-cut country type with short-cropped, curly, blond hair and dark eyes. He has a muscular frame (almost athletic), and he sits quiet and reserved. Somewhat of a loner, with his school books resting on knee steadied by a strong hand. I admire him. Especially when he had defended my brother Bob against some of the other kids on the bus. I wish I had done that. On this particular morning, once conversation has begun amongst the group, Barry begins to tell us of his plans to go to Denver and cut a record at a recording studio. He has a fair singing voice and gives us the gift of a song as we travel along. His voice has a definite country twang. We wish him luck on his record and hope he makes it. ++++++ Sometime just past noon. I have completed half of my school day and am walking downtown for lunch. I think today I will stop at the Bantam Restaurant and see Mr. Steinman at his grill. He makes good hamburgers. On my way down Main street I see a young couple who are walking hand-in-hand on the opposite side (back towards Longmont High). It is Barry Thomas and his girlfriend. I wave and they cross over the street to meet me. As they approach, I see them smile. Then, Barry takes on a serious expression. He has something important to tell me. As we stop to talk, I listen while he tells me of the war in Vietnam and of his plans to drop out of high school to go "do his part" to stop communism. His girlfriend still smiles as he speaks, though I sense not as easily anymore. I look at them both standing side by side, still hand in hand. They are so young. I think he is too young to be concerned with such things. But, I do not say what I think. I am too shaken to speak. I only listen and accept what is spoken. Finally, I wish him the best and we turn away. As I continue my walk towards lunch, I think that he is both brave and foolish. But, I hope he makes it. ++++++
Early morning on the farm. My brothers and I board the bus for
another day of school in Longmont. This morning, though, when we approach the Thomas
residence Barry isn't waiting for us.
I will never see him waiting again.
Richard Morison
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