By Staff
Kara Cox distinctly remembers the first time she saw The Look.
It was the first day of school and her first graders needed to be reminded that they really were staying all day.
It was only 10 a.m. and they weren't going home, they were going outside for recess.
She also felt The Look the day they learned to write not only their first names and last names, but their entire names.
Hunter Elijah Makepeace Topping longed for a succinct name that day.
She christened him “Hunter T” and called him that for the rest of his too-short life.
Hunter wasn't crazy about reading in first grade, which unsettled his teacher since his father Scott instructs English literature at Southwestern Michigan College.
To inspire the boy who liked “recess, math and lunch,” she risked The Look to inquire what kind of books he liked to read.
And car magazines.
Last fall, Hunter visited Cox, now a guidance counselor at Union High School, to discuss his future after high school.
The 16-year-old Union High junior confided to her that he hadn't started secondary education at the performance level he preferred.
Again, he shot her The Look with those piercing blue eyes.
Hunter's friends remember how he loved to have fun, loved to play, loved to laugh and loved to bring others gently along on his journey.
Kyle Bailey remembers Hunter's knack for persuasion - especially as it relates to encouraging them to do things they wouldn't have on their own.
Like a modern-day Tom Sawyer, when the two friends watched “Tommy Boy,” the cow-tipping scene inspired Dowagiac's own Chris Farley.
Hunter immediately wanted to go. Kyle let slip a neighbor owned cows, instantly regretting the admission “because I knew nothing good would come out of it.”
They stayed up until 2 a.m. and stole over quietly.
When Kyle reminded him whose idea this mission was, he, too, was treated to The Look.
Another time, in Chicago, checking out sports cars, Hunter climbed into a Maserati.
A salesman bustled over to admonish, “Sir, these doors need to be closed at all times.”
Hunter adroitly fulfilled many roles - son, grandson, nephew, little brother, big brother, teammate - and, judging from First United Methodist Church filled to capacity Saturday morning, a special friend who touched many and knit a town together for a fond farewell.
Like his idol Farley, Hunter's life created more laughter than tears.
He dispensed more happiness than gloom.
And spread more cheer than despair.
May he rest in peace.