Joe Riley put a booklet on my desk. Turn it over, he said, and tell me — what’s the first thing you see?
I saw pictures of several smiling faces from eras gone by. As Riley expected, though, the one that jumped out at me was a smiling young man who looked to be in his 20s or 30s, blond, youthful and fit. That was Joe Riley Jr., “Joey.”
“He was a regular, all-American boy,” the proud father says.
The booklet itself is a treasure, “The Way We Were: Memories of Those We Loved,” by Joseph Edward Riley Sr.
Riley chuckles to think that he was looking back on his life at the age of 58. Now 89, he realizes he was at his peak back then. At any rate, he wrote several essays about family members when he was in a reflective mood those decades ago.
Daughter No. 3, Cathy Hyle, pulled those essays together into a booklet earlier this year. In the acknowledgement at the beginning, Cathy explains the project. “I am so appreciative that Daddy has written these pieces,” she writes, “giving us a glimpse into ‘our folks’ so that we can remember ‘The Way We Were.’ ”
Riley’s heart-felt writing has to be shared.

It starts with a letter describing his wedding in 1947 to Martha Wall — the wedding that almost wasn’t, or almost didn’t have ushers, at least. Riley was in college at Catawba. The day of the wedding, he suddenly realized the noon ceremony was supposed to start in 23 minutes, but several ushers were nowhere to be found.
They were in football practice.
Riley sounded the alarm. They cleaned themselves up, loaded into a car and stopped in front of the church at 12:20 p.m. — 20 minutes after everyone is seated.
“Imagine you are a Southern father,” Riley writes of his father-in-law. “Half the wedding party is missing and the groom’s parents did not even come down for the wedding. Are you scared!?”
Riley was wobbly himself, but he made it to the altar.
“I whispered the responses. She replied in a calm, clear voice. Men are kind of ‘dragged’ to the altar. Women have been preparing all their lives. They know how to handle a wedding.”

After the wedding story, the booklet includes Riley’s descriptions of family members now gone:
• Mother-in-law Caroline “Callie” Hyler Wall — “the finest cafeteria manager in the Salisbury School system,” Riley says. “… She wasn’t exactly a saint, but she was an almighty, loving creature of God. … she seemed to have inherited the strength of the earth and the wisdom of country folks.”
• Charles Stuart Wall, his father-in-law, “was six feet tall and all man.” And solid. “Here was a man at peace with himself. He knew where he came from, where he was and where he was going. The absolute strength of the man was so very imposing.”
• Then there was “Momma” — Marge Gooden. “She invented ‘mother love’ — warm, soft, cuddly, fail-safe. Nothing bad could happen with Momma present.” She took good care of her husband and sons in their home in Roaring Springs, Pa. Even if things went bad, she always turned to love, kindness and understanding. “She must have worn out a lot of rosaries, especially when she had three boys in the service. Sorry I never wrote, Mom. There are not too many things in my life I would change, but that is the biggest. … I am 58 and I still cry for my Momma.”
• “Pop” was Richard W. Riley Sr. “It should have been ‘Mr. Black-and-White,’” Joe writes. His father was a good Catholic, a steady breadwinner, a happy hunter and fisherman. But he worried. “Pop was scared to death — marked for life — by the Great Depression. … He believed that each succeeding president was going to ruin the country and he lived on the brink of another depression all his life.” His sons were scared of him, “and yet, he was not a mean man in any sense of the word. … He had not learned how to express affection but he never let us down.”
Even brother-in-law Robert T. Wall earned a place in Joe’s memoir. “What’s not to like about Robert T?”

Finally comes Joey’s story, the last in the booklet.
“I put ‘West Side Story’ in my Walkman to hear as I walked in the Salisbury Mall,” Riley writes. “Immediately I thought of Joe Jr. He was our ‘golden boy’ …”
He was a wonderful baby, a happy and friendly boy.
“He found the meaning of his life in school plays and Piedmont Players’ productions.”
I had to ask Riley for a few more details. A girl Joey knew in college told the Rileys in a letter that their son was gay. Riley says Joey was too scared to tell them himself.
Joey left college and pursued his love of dance and performing. He never hit it big — was he too short? — but he loved what he did and built his life around that.
“Traveling the country to see him perform was the most exciting thing we did. We felt he was a great success because he lived to perform.”

Joey’s partner, Robbie, died first.

“In my ignorance I did not know how really sick Joe was,” Riley writes. “When (daughters) Sue and Cathy told me to hurry to Seattle before he died, it was the beginning of a shock so devastating that I have never been the same.”
Listening to “West Side Story” and remembering Joey can bring him to tears, Riley writes.
“I cry to think of his ashes blowing in the wind. I will never forget July 18, 1991, the day my only son died ….
“Joe bore his terrible illness with great courage and dignity. He was a man and I will never get over his loss until the day I die. My bright, bright shining golden boy!”
Thanks, Mr. Riley, for sharing your stories.
Elizabeth Cook is editor of the Salisbury Post.