Lonnie was the youngest child, he was the one that got away with everything, my dad spoiled him as much as his mother did. He loved fishing, he would spend all night at the Kanawha falls with his legs dangling over the concrete side of the wall just waiting for that one big fish he just knew was down there. He was the wild child, the risk taker, he had a laughter that was contagious and charm that girls loved. When he left for boot camp, he would write home every week, telling grandma the things he saw and what he was doing. When he left for Korea, he sent photos along with letters telling of his adventure, and beautiful pillow cases he knew his mom would love. One of those covers had a poem on it that read: "Mother to One Who Bears the Sweetest Name, and Adds a Luster to the Same, Long Life to Her for There's No Other Who Takes the Place of My Dear Mother" Lonnie's loss left a hole in our family that never healed, my grandmother never gave up the hope her baby boy would come home.

Jannie, Niece