Buster grew up in the same neighborhood as I and I could share many memories of him from childhood until my last visit with him. I remember him for his compassionate feelings about people and the love he had for his children and Maryann. One of my memories was when Buster got his first car, a shiny Pontiac. It was hot and his family and my father were haying his property. Buster had other plans, beside getting in hay which was riding around in his Pontiac. My father was so disgusted with him and they had some words, as I recall. Of course that story became history with the bond the two had over the years where both of them enjoyed laughing over that day. Buster, may you rest in peace my friend.