Luther B Hogan

Luther was the 4th and last son, born to Easter Arbin and Frances Margaret Hogan. Had he been the first, there may not have been any more. His father called him cotton-headed, his mother used more artful wording (we suspect she had a thesaurus ready), but he’s also been known as Bird Dog, Rusty Nail, Dad, PaPa, Uncle Luke, Lukey Baby, Luther Bert or Burt (only his mother knows), Mr. Hogan and a few unsavory names that are best left not stated here. You could call Luther whatever you wanted (except late for supper), he would always answer the call. Day or night.

He answered the call to duty on behalf of the United States Army when drafted during Vietnam, which started a lifetime of service. Luther was proud to serve his country in the Army (Active Duty), and he retired Air Force Reserve, while also working a Department of Defense Civil Service career. He was a proud A&P Mechanic for the 301st Fighter Division. He had continual involvement with veteran organizations throughout his life, and just celebrated his official retirement with the Tarrant County Young Marines only two weeks before he passed, after 18 years of service and molding hundreds of young lives. He most assuredly taught them a few pranks along the way.

Luther answered the call to God, a lifetime disciple of Christ and dutifully dragging his family, kicking or screaming, to church for every service. Faith and love of Christ was not a duty to Luther, it was in his soul. He answered another call, preaching sermons in various worship venues throughout the local area. His Children’s Church puppet show was one of his favorite ways to deliver both the messages in the bible and his imaginative story-telling into the hearts of children. He loved fellowship, spreading the gospel, leading others to Christ and ensuring everyone he met at least heard about God directly from His biggest mouthpiece. A theologian at heart, he loved to discuss scripture and the teachings of the King James Version (only) and by gosh, you better learn Thou Shalt Not! And he would tell you the exact chapter and verse it’s written in red, just in case you dared to check.

He answered the call for fatherhood, finally having his own little victims to torment on a regular basis. As a dad, he was a great provider and a dutiful parent – always at a game, band concert, or your first day at work to embarrass you in front of everyone! He was always either at your side, or will get there as fast as he can – and that was relevant to his last day here. We will miss his fatherly advice, like “Nobody’s perfect, someone will screw up and hire you” or “You’ll only do it once” when confronted. Luther never ran away from confrontation, either as a child, a man, or a dad. He taught his children to finish what they started, in all aspects of life. Sometimes, they listened. Dad could fix anything in life, and get pretty darn close-enough with construction. There are dads in this world that are good, but there are not many like Luther. Mostly because the world couldn’t handle another one.

He was a dad to all the kids who had room for one. He had a knack for calming fussy babies. “Give me that baby” was a demand, not a request. If there was a child in his presence, they were pulled into the familial fold. The house was always open, the time was always given, a path to the lost, instruction and mentorship for a task or a sport, a few dollars contributed to an empty pocket – he always gave everything he had to give. Tough love was his language, followed with pragmatic guidance...and the occasional wedgie. On the other hand, whether you needed it or not; you’re getting a wet willy, a finger crushed until you “take it back”, your ears pulled, a fire-plug if you sit next to him in the car, wrestled and pinned to the floor, an unexpected swerve in the car when you tried to take a drink, a sharp whack to whatever he could make contact with if you walked by, minor electrocution while holding the sparkplug to the mower while he cranked it (which he intentionally instructed you to do). You could always trust Luther to be there, but you could NOT trust him as far as you could throw him. And trust us, we’ve tried.

A natural charmer, he could talk his way in (or out) of anything. Luke was a talker, associating with people on their level and had a way to lead you to the answers you needed. You didn’t have to listen, but you were going to hear it. If you didn’t want to listen, he’d write it in a letter. He never shied away from telling the hard truth, cold facts, and offering assistance to get you through it. Talking was his gift, whether mentoring the youth, epic story-telling, pulling people out of their shell, bringing a team to the center, coaching a sport, or convincing someone to do something a little too dangerous. Luther could sell you on anything; a wild and almost-true story, a daunting task, a great idea, a new path in life, or peeing on an electric fence. We’re still not sure how he convinced his brother to do that one. He had the gift of gab, a disarming demeanor that put people at-ease with a personality that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You just had to remember not to get too close, and to watch out for that twinkle in his left eye. God had a way of making things even; Luther never touched a wire that didn’t zap him, a ladder he didn’t fall off, or a saw that didn’t like to bite his fingers every now and again. It was just another of his many gifts. We’d like to think God has a good sense of humor, too.

His family enjoyed a lifetime of laughter, bowing your head to pray before every family meal gathering, memories of dad and PaPa with annual camping trips to Lake Texoma, spending Saturday nights at the dirt track where he worked as a judge, never passing by a stranded motorist, mastering crossword puzzles, enjoying a good Dr. Pepper, watching every black and white movie known to man (but mostly wartime classics) at high decibels, all the westerns, yelling at the grandkids “In or Out!”, doodling, whittling, spittin’ sunflower seeds, listening to the game on AM radio while hauling kids around, yelling at the grandkids (again), trying repeatedly to get his wife’s full attention, giving the dog his food (and too much cheese), eating a good cold plate with enough cheese to plug the Hoover Dam. So. Much. Cheese. We sure are going to miss all of that, but he never missed a thing. And certainly not an opportunity to pull your hair.

Luther B. Hogan was born on August 14, 1951 in Ft. Worth, TX and is preceded in death by his parents, Easter Arbin and Frances Margaret Hogan; his first wife Fae Llewellyn Hogan (d. 2017), with whom he shared 46 years of marriage; two of his children, Nancy Elaine Hogan and W. Bryan Hogan; one grandchild, Stratton Hall; and one great-grand child Zane Hogan. He is also preceded in death by his siblings, Jackie Hogan, George Hogan, David Hogan, and Debra Reis.

He is survived by his wife of 6 years, Michelle Spangler; his children from his first marriage, Les (Erin) Hogan, Angela (Kent) Clouse, and Regina Cole; stepchildren Christopher Spangler, Lauren Daugherty, and Preston (Lauren) Spangler; his sister Patricia (Johnny) Hartis; Luther's legacy also includes 18 grandchildren and 9 great-grandchildren; and one spoiled dog, Yuna.

A celebration of Luther’s life will be held, with food and fellowship to follow:

Saturday, February 22, 2025 at 12:00 P.M

Bar Cross Cowboy Church

12001 FM 917

Alvarado, TX 76009

Florist Recommendation:

WeBloom Floral Boutique

320 Dick Price Rd

Kennedale, TX 76060

817-516-5246

www.webloomfloral.com

In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to the Tarrant County Young Marines, Pearl Harbor fund.

https://youngmarines.salsalabs.org/tarrantcountyymspearlharborfundraiser/index.html

Cards may be mailed to:

6100 Hull Rd.

Cleburne, TX 76031