I want to say My prayers and  thoughts you Reva and children.I too have very fond memories of my Brother. I had a close relationship with Him when I was young ,but after He went to the navy we weren't around Him very much after that. but I still thought of Him and loved Him.I will always love you Steve.

I have limited, yet fond memories of Uncle Monroe.  I maybe saw my uncle a handful of times, but the times I did were good times. I remember going to his house, about the age of 7.  He was amazed at how much a small kid could eat so much, gave me a lot of teases for that, in good fun.  I love you Uncle Monroe, I will miss you, but your memory lives on.  You are in a better place, free of illness and pain.  Say hi to Grandma, Uncle Logan, Uncle Bob and Uncle Frank-as well as the rest of the family- for me.  God Bless

I will miss you, Ialways thought of you even if I didnt call or write.

December 4, 2010, 
Connell, Wa. 

Let me tell you about my big brother, Steve. He was my hero. He was my favorite brother. Oh, so you are not supposed to have favorites. Sorry, but I did anyway. Why was he my hero and my favorite? Let me explain.

Go back with me now to a cold and rainy day, in Northeastern Arkansas. It was February 25, 1952. On that date, my big brother, Steve, turned 17 years old. On that day, also, my father, Gurnie Alonzo Mason, passed away. 

Steve was the fourth child born to Gurnie Alonzo Mason and Letha Clark Mason. He had two brothers and one sister older than he. But wait, he also had six brothers and two sisters who were younger than he. If you are trying to add that all up, it comes to a total of twelve children. 

My father had been very sick for several years prior to his passing and so we children had to work in the fields to help make a living. On that fateful day, February 25, 1952, my big brother Steve was the oldest of us who were still living at home. Our two older brothers were fighting in the Korean War and our older sister was married and had her own home. So, brother Steve was the man of the house in addition to being the principal breadwinner. 

February 25, 1952, was cold and miserable and rainy. Yet my brother, Steve, was out in the rice field driving that steel wheeled John Deere tractor. I think he was probably being paid about thirty-five cents an hour. He was covered with boils and was so sore that he could not sit down. So, he jostled over those rough fields standing on his feet. I recall that he had one boil right in the middle of the sole of his foot. 

During the remainder of 1952 and until October of 1953, my big brother, Steve continued to be out there leading the rest of us in our endeavors to earn enough money to buy food and sustain the family of his widowed mother and eight younger siblings. He drove the mules and plowed the cotton. He drove the horses and hauled the cotton. He did it all at that young age of 17 and 18. 

By October of 1953, our oldest brother had been discharged from the army and had found employment in the uranium mines of Colorado. But after just a few days there he was critically injured in a mining accident. 

Consequently, our mother sold everything we had, beds, furniture, dishes, I mean everything in order to raise money to move us all to the state of Colorado. Once there, Steve found work, at the young age of 18, in the uranium mines. I think he was making the staggering sum of $2.00 per hour. Aside from the small social security check my mother receivedâ€”which I think that was about $35 per monthâ€”he was then, as I recall, sole support of all those kids and his mother.  

Our second brother, Logan, was sending a little of his Marine Corps pay home to assist, but Steve was the big brother and the father figure in our lives. He became my hero as a result. 

In 1954 or 1955, Steve joined the Navy and things changed. He was no longer around. We younger kids had to get along without him. He was gone away. But, he remained my hero and my favorite brother. 
I recall on one occasion, I think it was in about 1994, when I told him so in a telephone conversation. I always tried to call him on his birthday. I think I was successful every year except this year. This year I think I was about a week late. 

In the years after Steve joined the Navy, I hardly ever saw him again. I expect that I did not see him more that a dozen times in the last 55 years. But I still see him as my role model. He was my big brother. And I mean â€œBIG BROTHER.â€ At the young age of about 18, he was already well over 6 feet tall and about 175 pounds. At that time, I was 13, weighed about 80 pounds, and was all of 4' 10â€ tall. I was just a little kid. Steve was my big brother.

Good-bye Steve. I love you.  

Your little brother, 
John K.

As a child I remember going to Uncle Monroe's house and sitting at a giant picnic table in the back yard in Russelville to have dinner, and going to church to hear him preach. My thoughts are with you Aunt Reva and family in your time of loss.

I have been trying to send a message for two hours. It doesn't seem to work for me.

John Mason
Connell, WA

We are very sorry for your loss.  Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

James & Edna Wagoner
Shelter Insurance

May God bless you and your family in this time of sorrow. Our prayers are with you. Delbert and Wilma Goff

OBITUARY

Steve Mason

February 25, 1935 – December 4, 2010

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