'A Living Tribute'

Kristin Kenney, of Edison, N.J., sits at the grave of her boyfriend, Army Sgt. Dennis J. Flanagan, at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia.

AP photo

By ANTHONY McCARTNEY amccartney@tampatrib.com

Published: May 29, 2006

TAMPA - Gaynell Lapinski is pretty sure her son Stanley would have liked Army Sgt. Dennis J. Flanagan.

Although they were born more than a decade apart, Stanley "Stash" Lapinski and Flanagan had plenty in common.

Both were blond, blue-eyed history buffs planning to return home and teach after their military careers were over.

That won't happen. Seven months and seven days after Army Cpl. Stanley Lapinski died in Baghdad last year, Flanagan also was killed. Both were slain by improvised explosive devices.

Despite living just miles apart in Citrus County, the Lapinskis had never met Flanagan's parents, Dennis and Patricia.

That was until the Lapinskis decided - in part because of their son's death - to sell their home and move to North Carolina to be closer to their other children.

About two weeks ago, they ordered a pest inspection. A man arrived and checked the house while the Lapinskis ate breakfast.

When he was done, he joined them in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Lapinski, I want to thank you for that beautiful letter you sent my wife and I," the inspector said.

"I'm Dennis Flanagan."

"I lost it," Gaynell Lapinski said recently. "We've become friends, and we sort of help each other."

The two families had traded letters, but they didn't meet until that day in the Lapinskis' kitchen.

The cadre of Tampa Bay area families who have lost loved ones in the U.S.-led war on terrorism has nearly doubled since last Memorial Day. Eighteen men with ties here have died in war zones since May 30, 2005, including Lapinski, 35, and Dennis J. Flanagan, 22.

Families of those recently killed join a community of other parents, wives and relatives who have lost loved ones in combat or training.

Many of the men have been honored with medals, their names on monuments, streets, recreation centers and parks.

A post office in Holiday bears the name of Medal of Honor recipient Army Sgt. Paul R. Smith, who helped hold off 100 Iraqi Republican Guard troops before being killed near Baghdad International Airport on April 4, 2003.

The baseball diamond where Marine Cpl. Tony Sledd spent much of his childhood was renamed in his honor. Sledd was the Bay area's first fatality in the war.

At West Point military academy, the Most Valuable Player award has been renamed for Army Capt. James F. Adamouski, who attended Tampa's Most Holy Redeemer school and was killed in the opening days of the Iraq war.

Many families work to ensure their loved ones' legacies live on in other ways.

Rachel Barrett, mother of Army Sgt. James D. Stewart, who was killed in June in Rutbah, Iraq, urged well-wishers to donate to her church's new community center. More than $75,000 has been given in her son's name, which will adorn the center when it is built at St. Petersburg's Park Street Baptist Church.

"It's just a living tribute to him," she said. "He would have been upset with anybody who bought flowers and wasted their money."

The parents of Marine Cpl. Ronald Payne Jr., killed in a firefight in Afghanistan in 2004, restructured their military ministry to help families of fallen soldiers.

The Flanagans hope to start a foundation in their son's name and publish a book of his poetry and writings, Patricia Flanagan said.

The accolades often pale in comparison to the promise the slain servicemen demonstrated while alive.

Adamouski, for instance, turned down the opportunity to attend Harvard Business School and teach at West Point to return to combat, said his father, retired Army Col. Frank Adamouski.

His son wanted to eventually return and teach at his alma mater, then begin a life in politics. He wanted to be a senator, Frank Adamouski said, and given his previous successes, his family wondered whether he might have climbed even higher.

Sgt. Michael D. Rowe was at the start of a promising Army career. He graduated in the top five of his National Guard class and earned his sergeant stripe in less than three years, said his father, David Rowe.

He planned to remain in the Army and had just re-enlisted when he was killed March 28 by an improvised explosive device.

He volunteered to lead convoys because he had specialized training, his father said, and wanted to protect his troops.

It isn't just medals and monuments that help the families realize how much the slain service members meant to the community.

Sledd's mother, Norma Figueroa, said she enjoys walking past the shrine in her front yard and knowing someone was thinking of her son.

She can tell, she said, from the roses left there.

Researcher Michael Messano contributed to this report. Reporter Anthony McCartney can be reached at (813) 259-7616.