Stratton Lynn Hall

Stratton Lynn Hall, aged 30, passed away from a motorcycle accident on August 11, 2023. He is greatly disappointed it wasn’t due to a zombie apocalypse.

Stratton was the eldest of two children, and of 12 grandchildren. Stratton was born on a Thursday, November 12, 1992 at 10:35 PM. Anyone could tell you his family was a little worried he would be born after midnight, what kind of craziness would result from being born on Friday the 13th? Apparently, the same craziness as someone born on Thursday the 12th. A whole lot of trouble was disguised as a blue eyed, blond curly haired angel.

Stratton spent his entire childhood as rough and tumble as they get, despite his whit, charm and dimples. Scrapes, bruises and cuts were badges of honor. Breaks and stitches were way cooler. What do you expect when you grew up believing you were a cowboy, a BMX star, Tony Hawk, Bam Margera, Johnny Knoxville, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Rambo, or any other daredevil who hit the big screen? Stratton could do it all, and mostly with style and grace. His “Watch this” instantly struck fear in our hearts. His imagination ran wild, and he knew no fear, a little bruise, scrape or fracture was just part of the cool story he could tell later. He could always be found outside covered in dirt, catching crawdads, climbing trees, making fires, jumping dirt ramps on his bike, making weapons out of random objects, or jumping off something he absolutely was not supposed to. Most of the time, he encouraged his cousins and friends to do the same. If they got in trouble, Stratton was usually the reason. They were his best friends and kept secrets even better. “Don’t tell my Mom” Eventually became an unspoken rule. He knew it would result in hours long lectures, where he would eventually ask her to “please just hit me and get it over with.” His PaPaw usually concealed most shenanigans, and actively encouraged others. They were best buddies and could often be found with their heads together, working, playing, talking or scheming.

Stratton’s sister was born when he was five, and he was a proud big brother! Protecting his little sister was his favorite activity. Over time, cursing the day she was born replaced his previous favorite activity. She loved to tattle on her brother, until she got older and could be bribed. “Shut up, Shannah” was uttered until his last day, but in their later years it became a term of endearment. He once terrorized her by blocking her in his room, playing a spooky Halloween soundtrack in the dark while making “The Predator” snarl in her ear. Despite early traumas, there was nothing Stratton wouldn’t do for his sister, and nothing she wouldn’t do for him.

You could always find Stratton outside. Sitting still was not in his nature, as either a child or an adult. You never had to ask twice for help, he was up and getting it done the minute you asked. Unannounced visits were the norm. Stratton loved to collect and shoot his guns, go hunting, fishing, boating, wandering in the woods, star-gazing on a blanket, finding small wonders – and studying the smallest details of something he found unique or different. He could talk for hours about things he wanted to invent, ideas on how to improve designs, discussing how things could work better or how to solve problems. His PaPaw could entertain these discussions for days. He had a knack for figuring it all out. Stratton could MacGyver anything, creating an odd contraption that absolutely worked, even if it looked funny. He could also do this in the kitchen, creating gourmet meals with only a few ingredients and a lot of creativity. There is not a single food on this earth that he wouldn’t eat. Squid? Sure. Octopus? Ok. Mystery Meat? Even better. If he could gross you out while doing it, he achieved his life’s goal. Stratton’s brain never stopped. Stratton could live in a van, down by the river. He would definitely make it through a zombie apocalypse, and he was ready and waiting for his chance to shine.

His voice was deep, and could boom “What’re you doin’!” in a way that could make you lose your bladder, and at the same time he could burst out in the goofiest laugh that made everyone laugh along with him. Scaring people was one of his best gifts, he could sneak up on a panther and his tip-toe game was stellar. Stratton was a big kid with the little ones, either as a cousin or honorary uncle. Kids followed him around wherever he went. He had the best stories about either monsters or magic and could spin amazing stories to make them hang onto his every word. Hanging out with “Uncle Strat” was always dangerous fun, he could make the toys talk, fly higher, go faster, and by “Strat Magic” they were much more fun than the manufacturer ever intended.

Stratton was a hard worker and hated those who milked the clock. An assigned task was meant to be accomplished thoroughly and with determination. Throughout his career of rigging heavy equipment, the bigger challenges were great, but the higher he had to climb up was even better. He was proud of his work and the challenges it presented.

Stratton lived his life unapologetically, by his own rules and followed his own arrow. He loved his friends and family fiercely, he loved adrenaline, speed, heights, beer, spicy food, heavy metal, skulls, guns, knives, anything in army-green, and he loved riding his motorcycles. He lived his life wild and free, loved to move around and see everything.

Stratton came into this world as a hell-raiser, and he left our world raising hell. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Stratton is survived by his mother, Angela Clouse, step-father Kent Clouse, sister Shannah Varela and her husband Gabriel Varela, nephew Liam Varela, step-brother William Clouse, grandfather Luther Hogan, aunt Gina Cole and family, uncles Les Hogan and Clint Martin and their families, and step-grandfather Euel Martin. Stratton also leaves behind 11 cousins and countless friends, who along with their children, will forever feel his loss. Stratton is preceded in death by his grandmother Fae Hogan and uncle Bryan Hogan, who were both there to greet their beloved “Strat”.