There's a hole in a lot of peoples' hearts out here back east. The mold was broken after his birth. From home to Iowa ain't big enough to hold Bungo, from working from 'can't see til can't see' with time out for time with Joan. Only five kids He could make a sailor blush, and outwork a bunch of them to boot. This may not be totally proper but, 'mach du hussa nunna, da dawdy is da haeme' To me, he lived life to his own drummer, and we all benefited from it. It was hard getting updates back here, but I was gladened to hear he was better. Butchering with him was a real trip, my favority was helping making the sausage and the last stirring of the scrapple cauldron. Ain't gonna be many Game Wardens in heaven, so rest in peace.