The following poem so describes the way you enjoyed living. The one important fact that this poem leaves out is how many lives were affected by your devotion to hunting and most importantly the number of young guys that you reached and influenced to hunt rather than being out at loose ends on the street and getting involved with drugs, alchol, or other things that could have gotten them in trouble and ruined their lives. As they walked through the line the night we received friends for you, the boys and I were so proud of the legacy you left with all of those guys that now have strong moral character and values.THE COON HUNTERAnother winter day is done, the stars shine clear and bright. Excitement fills the hunter's soul with the coming of the night.He'll don his boots and hunting coat, get his rifle and his light. Then call his faithful long eared hounds and step out in the night.He'll stroll through the forest, cold and bleak, cold winds will sting and bite. He knows each small nocturnal sound within the circle of his light.A compass nestles in his coat, a trail might go astray. And mid the dense dark underbrush there's no sign to show the way. No man has ever owned the wealth or seen such paradise, as the wooded hills and winding streams seen through the hunters eyes.No instrument has e'er been made and none will e'rr be found, that will make the clear sweet music of a big deepthroated hound.The night wears on, the game is bagged. He calls the big hounds in. He'll take them to the kennel Until..........it's time to go again.John L Gwaltney