Friendships occur in various and seemingly accidental ways. I think of Josephine Turney, a friend for many years. Her home was in far off Brighton, Colorado. She was born in Redwing, Colo. Yet one day I met her on the main street of Clarkesville here in NE Georgia. I had been turkey hunting early that morning and drove into town about ten o’clock and pulled over to the curb.
As I started walking down the street, thinking of a hot cup of coffee, I met a short lady limping along, who had two small girls with her, her grandchildren. That morning while I sat leaning against a tree, trying to lure in a gobbler, I had fashioned a walking stick. On impulse I got it out of the truck and offered it to the lady. With this act, Josephine Turney became a friend for the rest of her life and we carried on a steady correspondence until her death.
Her daughter, Rita Schneider, wrote me, “My mother Josephine passed away peacefully yesterday morning, Sept. 14, 2006; around 8 AM…she loved Georgia and had the fondest memories from her trips to see me and my family when we lived there.” Rita’s husband, Rick, had been transferred to Georgia, but after some years his company returned him to Colorado.
From a child I read about the American west, following my mother’s love for reading. Zane Grey’s western novels and history books made me want to experience the west in person. A military career with the US Air Force sent me to assignments at San Antonio, Texas; Denver, Colorado; and Des Moines, Iowa. At various times I crossed the west on trains or cars to new assignments stateside or overseas.
When I met Jo, her husband Carl – a WW II Navy veteran – had died. He had grown up knowing a cowboy’s life and became an outfitter taking hunters, anglers and movie stars to hunt and camp in the Rocky Mountains. Carl had taken John Wayne, for example, on horseback outings around Aspen. Wayne rode a horse named Tojo, and Carl was a bit actor in a movie with Wayne. When Carl died June 26, 1993, he was buried in Fort Logan National Cemetery.
Jo shared much information of her life and family through letters and cards at Christmas and other times and I wrote of my family events and things about Georgia. Through her I became friends with family members, such as Rita and Carla, sisters, and Melanie Susuras, a granddaughter. Now we correspond by email and Facebook.
Knowing I liked things western, I received considerable descriptions of western life from Jo’s remembrances of her childhood as a daughter on a ranch where she grew up with cattle, horses, and sheep. She said her dad loved Wyoming and told her stories of experiences there. She wrote also of her life with Carl and her children and general information about life in Colorado. She said of North Georgia, “I like the Blue Ridge Mountains. They are gentler than the Rocky Mountains.” Rita has also voiced her love for these “gentler” mountains and Derrick, a son of Rick and Rita, expressed his liking for Georgia. My second love is the west and theirs is in the southeast. We are just humans.
