I took a skeptical view of Corky Richmond when we met four years ago. In fact, I told my mother afterwards that I didn't think I was going to like him at all. Our parents had decided we should meet since we were about the only ones who played musical instruments in the booming metropolis of Greens Fork, Indiana (Pop. 413). When I first saw him, I got the impression that he either couldn't hold his eyes open for lack of sleep or just didn't want to take the time and energy to do so. His ears were another thing that bothered me. They seemed large enough to catch the squeaking of the tiniest mouse in the most gigantic church in the world. I found later that he had just as many criticisms of me.

It was odd, but after a while I didn't seem to notice his eyes or ears, and I was sure his voice must have toned down four or five degrees of loudness. We began to go places and do things together and eventually we found that we had almost everything in common. I can't begin to name the events we played in together or those we might have played if Corky had made arrangements sooner. But that was just his way, and I guess we never missed anything important by it.

I have mixed feelings about this last summer. It was my most fun-filled summer and yet it was sad because I knew it would probably be the last. For Corky now attends the University of Wisconsin and has high hopes of being a musical arranger. I'm sure he'll make it too. And now we have moved back to Charlestown, which is 136.6 long miles from Greens Fork. Although I have many friends here, I'm sure I'll never meet another one quite like Corky.

Gary Wiggins

4 October 1960