In Memory

Charles Riley


Charles E. “Charlie” Riley, 60, died on Sunday (July 10, 2011) at Via Christi St. Francis in Wichita.
He was born on Aug. 16, 1950, in Newton to Charles W. and Neva (Rodgers) Riley. On Sept. 12, 1975, he married Barbara R. Smith, and she survives of the home.
Charlie was a member of the Newton Church of the Brethren and worked as a maintenance supervisor for the city of Newton. He was a veteran of the U.S. Navy.  

Charlie enjoyed spending time outdoors. He enjoyed ice fishing in area lakes and archery deer hunting and bird watching. Charlie enjoyed cooking outdoors and spending time with his loving family and many friends.

He also was an accomplished mechanic and enjoyed home maintenance.
Charlie is survived by his parents, Charles and Neva Riley of Newton; wife, Barbara of the home; sons, Eric B’Hymer and Angie Tatman of Iola, and Nate Riley and Jennifer Komosa of Arvada, Colo.; daughter, Jennifer Pittman and Mike of Newton; two brothers, Mark Riley and Cindy of Olathe, and Brad Riley and Rhonda of Wichita; and one sister, Brenda Claassen of Dallas. He also has seven grandchildren.

Visitation will be from 1 to 9 p.m. Thursday at Petersen Funeral Home in Newton. The family will receive friends from 6:30 to 8 p.m. at the funeral home.  Funeral service will be at 10 a.m. Friday at First Baptist Church in Newton. Pastors Laura Snyder and David Schirer will preside. Burial will follow in Restlawn Gardens of Memory in rural Newton.

Memorials may be left with Newton Public Library, in care of Petersen Funeral Home.
Condolences may be left at

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07/24/11 03:10 PM #1    

Tom Collier


We hunted a lot of hedgerows . . . crossed a lot of fences and trudged through acres of snow. We even got shot at . . . two different times! We wouldn't have traded it for anything.

We bloodied our knuckles on your '55 Chevy . . . Saturday nights in your uncle David's garage rebuilding transmissions . . . or replacing one warped manifold for another "less" warped . . . but in the wee hours we would pack up the "left over" parts and drive off grinning ear to ear and confident the repairs would hold till next Saturday. We wouldn't have traded it for anything.

We threw our motorcycles around with youthful abandon and stupidly tried to defy death at every opportunity . . . chasing jack rabbits through moonless nights on "ice slick" straw fields . . . chasing the gang through the early morning streets of Newton in a crazy follow-the-leader Grand Prix . . . crashing off jumps and dropping over screamingly steep wash outs. We wouldn't have traded it for anything.

We would throw back a beer and hit the bars . . . sometimes they hit back . . . from dime draws and pool in Halstead . . . to the "Pink Pussycat" and an evening when you got to spend some time at the Wichita gray bar hotel. We wouldn't have traded it for anything.

We shared some amazing adventures . . . more than I can put here . . . they were wonderful, scary, dangerous, sometimes bordering on spectacular . . . but at the end of the day we could always sit back with a laugh . . . a beer . . . a cigarette . . . and some Ben-Gay. We wouldn't have traded it for anything.

I will miss you my friend . . . I was blessed to have shared our time together. I wouldn't have traded it for anything.


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