Kyle was his name.
His face framed by oversized glasses held together with tape.
A shock of unruly brown hair standing in perpetual salute.
Rumpled shirt and trousers with zero nod to peer fashion trends.
The guy who set the curve in every Honors class at Kirkwood High School.
Walking unabashed into class with his signature brown bag.
No, not a briefcase or backpack….but a tattered grocery sack without handles.
Toting his books and other necessities from room to room. A practical solution to minimizing trips to his locker.
The fact that social media didn’t exist in the 1960’s was a stroke of pure luck for Kyle. Mercifully, his ribbing was largely confined to school hours.
Given that his wit was every bit as sharp as his intellect, he could more than hold his own when bantering with academic types.
And, when Kyle put those less cerebral in their place, his retorts typically flew right over their heads.
I don’t know what became of him, but I like to envision Kyle as a neurosurgeon…suited up in ill-fitting scrubs…striding confidently into the O.R….carrying his surgical instruments in his trusty brown bag.