Chicago wrote a song about it.

In the song, they write about baseball cards, drive-in movies and howdy doody.

Some stuff that I'm old enough (watch it) to remember, and yet, others aren't.

I can still remember the first time I got into trouble in school.

I had a hat on outside. I was in the first grade. We were at recess.

A kid in my class took the hat and started running. I gave chase.

He threw the hat at a fence and it stuck. I climbed the fence to get my hat. I got sent to the principal's office. He did too, though.

I remember that kid throughout the years. By the time I got into high school, we road the same bus to get to school, but I don't know if we were in the same grade at that time. Still, I can remember him sitting in a seat, patiently waiting for the bus to reach his home.

I read an article about him this past week. His remains were identified as those in a steel drum outside of a man's house on the outskirts of Bloomington.

He had been shot in the head. Multiple times.

I don't really remember much about him other than that incident in the first grade. I think my family still has the class picture from that year. He was on the front row, wearing a yellow shirt smiling proudly.

We all go separate ways as life moves forward. Some take one road while others go in another direction.

It's too bad his life ended so abruptly.

I actually remember coming home from work recently and seeing an article in another paper about that kid -- now a man. He was reported missing.

This was probably two to three months ago.

Now everyone knows why.

For some reason, things keep flooding back in my memory regarding him. And yet, I'm pretty sure I wasn't even a blip on the radar to him. He had his own life. But I've been searching the mental rolodex and some things are coming back.

I read this morning that he leaves behind seven children. I don't even have one.

Those kids will go through the rest of their life without their father. I couldn't imagine something like that.

Rest in Peace.