Dear Joe

Dear Joe:

I went to your auction yesterday.  It was a fine day for an auction!  I went to your auction so I could give you a big hug - you are one of my favorite people in the fire family.  But you weren't there.  Once we started going with the auction, I understood why.

Many of your friends were there.  We crowded into the dining room/living room space, speculating on where you were going.  Dave, the auctioneer, started promptly at 10am, standing over the lovely kitchen table made just for your home. Around the room Dave went and soon, we were all moved outside to a trailer.  As I watched snow shovels, chaps, bridles and bits, tank heaters, and electric shears being sorted out and held up, I thought, this is what my estate auction will be like!  I am glad you are still amongst the living and moving south to join your family.

I heard the last of your sheep all died this spring.  My step-dad Raymond used to say sheep are just looking for a way to die.  I don't think his thought is original, just the first time I had ever heard this about sheep.  Later, your sheep shelter would sell, be loaded up, and hauled away for another's try at this furry creature.

Of course, that beautiful serious-looking snow plow was the main attraction.  In seasoned auctioneer style, Dave took us through the entire course before we got to the plow.  I stood next to the young man who won the bid on your New York City police belt; holster, cuff holder, baton, key to the cuffs but no cuffs present.  He was fascinated by the thing.  Admired it and pondered your wearing it on duty.  You would have enjoyed that moment.

We ambled on, item by item.  Wooden duck decoys, a cast iron tea pot, enormous wrenches and sockets, feed bins, salt feeders, a chicken coop, white tail deer hides.  I believe it was one of your neighbor's who won the book collection off your book shelf.  My favorite title, as I gazed through your books, "Practical Farm Shelters".  Those kind of books never go out of date.  Her son, here visiting from California, helped her load her wins.  She bid on much and took home much.  Your stuff isn't going far from your mountain home. 

I should have bid more on your banding irons.  That's a nice brand, M lower J.  I bet you would have transferred it to me.  But I have a brand and owning two seems more than somewhat silly.  I hope the person Carey got them for carries on that brand and thinks of you every time he pushes the red hot iron onto the hide of a critter.  It's a nice brand.

I did get your bed.  It will be a wonderful guest room bed in our Freedom house.  My husband is out of town right now, but I managed to wrangle bed frame, box spring, and mattress out of the horse trailer, into the house, up and around two flights of stairs, and got it all set up.  For a bit there, it was a battle and the bed frames was winning.  The frame fought me and I cut my ear.  Blood dripped down the battle wound and I became more determine to win.  When I left this morning, the bed was fully set up, made with your clean linens, and I walked away from the battle ground a real winner. 

I also won the bid for that beautiful piece of cabinetry in the kitchen the other women there were calling a "side board".  I'm pretty sure I paid too much for it, but I was determined to out-bid the gal across the room (dammit!) and I figure this is kind of like a donation to Joe's moving fund.  Use it well, my friend!

I also bought your boot scraper.  Right?!!  I love that thing.  It's like the industrial-type boot scraper.  No excuses for muddy feet now!!  That thing is awesome!  The country you lived in there isn't very wet and you can tell - that boot scraper is practically untouched. 

Driving south, I thought about how sad you were going to be to return to your spot on the hill looking east to the glorious Wind River Mountains, wind in the grasses and sage, and know you will be leaving this place.  The people around here are going to miss you Chief Joe.  You are kind and big-hearted.  You are serious and sincere.  You were someone they could count on.  I heard that in the eleven years you were around, there have been two structure fires.  Finding volunteers is really tough  up in that wind-blown retirement community.  You will be missed.

At Daniel Junction, I stopped to eat dinner.  Why not.  Here's to you, Joe.  I raise my gin and tonic (only one, still a long drive ahead) and wish you safe travels to be surrounded by your family soon in balmy Florida.  I celebrate the chance to have met you and known you - albeit, our relationship was brief, I got a glimpse of the kind of man I know you are.  May you find warmth in your new surroundings, less wind, no wolves, and certainly, no sheep.  You, Sir, are a hero of mine, indeed.