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When I started the fourth grade, a family moved into my hometown of Independence. The father was the new Methodist Church minister. Their son, Mike, was my age. I didn't know Mike very well until one day we had a fight at school. After the fight was over, we made up, and became best friends. Mike Moyer and I were inseparable. We camped together, rode our bikes together all over the community, had the same musical tastes. He was funny, clever, original, and rebellious. He wore peace signs and tons of red, white and blue. He was cool. We all loved Mike.

Eventually, as is the case with Methodist ministers, the family had to move. They moved to Toledo, Ohio just before we started eighth grade. Mike never really adjusted to the big city. He graduated from high school, joined the Marines...but never really found himself again. His untimely death in 1981 was a shock to everyone who had the privilege to have known him. I'll never forget him...and I hope one day to see him again.

My Buddy Mike

 

 
 
   
   
       
           
 

More red, white and blue
than you can imagine.

 
High school in Toledo
   

Mike, me, and my nephew David when Mike came back from Toledo for the Warren County Fair