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Several weeks ago, I visited with a friend of mine who had just
attended the funeral of one of his classmates. It wasn’t the first time
he’d lost a high school classmate, but the fourth or fifth funeral of
one of his childhood contemporaries. When I replied that I had been out
of high school for 35 years and was lucky enough to have all 39 of my
classmates still alive and well, he looked quite surprised. It did seem
somewhat unusual to not have had a single person pass away due to some
illness or accident during the three and one-half decades since donning
our caps and gowns.
That all came to a screeching halt on March 30. My mother called me
that Sunday night to inform me that one of my closest friends from the
time I was in diapers until I left for college had suddenly passed away
Sunday morning.
Kyle Hochsprung, a tall, slender, mellow father of three was writing a
check for Sunday’s offering at the kitchen table, when he suddenly
slumped over and died right on the spot. There was no warning. He
hadn’t been sick. He never abused his body with cigarettes or booze. He
just died. I guess it was his time…but like hundreds of others who knew
and loved Kyle, I keep asking why?
Kyle’s mom and dad and my parents were very good friends. From long
before I can remember, Kyle and I were playmates. The Hochsprungs were
dairy farmers, and I spent lots of time with Kyle on the farm. Like
most farms in the 1960’s, the Hochsprung farm was diversified. They had
cows, chickens, and pigs. Once while chasing some baby pigs, the mother
sow had enough and chased us up a tree in the pig pen. Kyle and I were
stuck up in that tree for several hours. Every time we thought the
mother pig had given up and we started climbing down out of the tree,
she’d come charging back, and up the tree we went. Kyle’s father Jerry
finally happened by and shooed the sow away.
Having spent time on the Hochsprung farm came in handy for me on
several occasions. One in particular was when I was about 11 or 12 and
my mother was going to sit me down and tell me about the birds and the
bees. She was terribly nervous, and when she started, I could tell
where our conversation was going. I just put my hand up, said “oh, I
know all about that stuff, I’ve watched the pigs and cows doing that at
Kyle’s.” I’m not sure who was more relieved, my mother or I.
The first time I ever got “tipsy” on beer was with Kyle. The community
I grew up in was pretty much German, and high school graduation parties
included plenty of keg beer. Kyle’s older sister was graduating from
high school and of course, we were invited to the party. And like many
graduation parties, the men were located in one area (the garage), and
the women were in the house. The keg beer was located in the garage,
and Kyle and I were “enlisted” to carry pitchers of beer from the
garage to the house. Sometimes the pitchers weren’t completely empty,
so Kyle and I would empty them before we filled them back up. I was 15
at the time, and was very much a rookie when it came to consuming
alcohol. It didn’t take too many trips to and from the garage before
things started spinning. I know I ran into at least one tree in the
Hochsprung yard, woke up the next morning with a terrible headache, and
didn’t attempt consuming large amounts of beer until I was a college
student.
Memories of all the fun things Kyle and I did when we were growing up,
came flooding back, as I drove the 200 miles from Caledonia to Brownton
last week. And many more memories and quite a few tears flowed as I was
one of the many hundreds of persons who paid their last respects to
Kyle at Peace Lutheran Church in Hutchinson last Thursday.
Kyle was a good friend when I was growing up. He never really got mad
at people, and I don’t think I ever heard him say a bad word about
anyone. He was a great husband and father. Although we didn’t stay in
close contact after we graduated, we always got together during class
reunions to shoot the breeze about the good old days and catch up on
our families.
During Brownton’s sesquicentennial celebration last summer I had a
chance to visit with Kyle for several hours. I looked up at my former
playmate, who towered over me with his lean 6’4” frame and said, “Kyle,
except for your greying hair, you don’t look any different now than you
did 35 years ago when we graduated from high school.”
True to form, Kyle gave me a big smile, rubbing my bald head and
replied, “if you just put a hat on to cover up your bald head, you
would too!” Then he gave out a big laugh.
I’m gonna miss you Kyle…heck I already do!
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