Better Slow ‘er Down Brown
One of the things that separate small town funeral directors from the “big city boys” is that fact that we know nearly all of the families that call upon us. There are multiple other things that set us apart, one of which is that we generally serve the same families multiple times over multiple generations, if the Lord keeps you around as a funeral director that long. We will further examine some of the other qualities that set small town funeral directors apart from the “big city boys” in future stories.
Most People Called Him “Windy”
It seems like as life goes along, us country folks are genuinely blessed with good friends. One of my best was Leonard Price. I got to know Leonard as a boy when we would take our wild game to his locker plant in Haswell. I still remember the first antelope that my dad and I took in there when I was just 14. Let’s just say that the antelope had gotten pretty hot because he had gotten a lot of exercise prior to his demise. I will assume that most antelope hunters know what I am talking about. We pulled up to the locker plant on the west side and there was Leonard to greet us and offer his compliments on the nice buck. Also standing there was Hobie Marble the game warden. Hobo, as we called him, had a few questions. One of which was “how many does did you kill before you finally got this buck?” Keep in mind, I was 14, so I let my dad answer all the questions. My dad said, “I think there was three.” Hobo replied, “That’s what I counted too.” That was pretty much the end of that conversation. (Thank God for statute of limitations)
Leonard loved young people, and had a particularly genuine way of connecting with them. He helped us drag in the antelope and then he said, “You’re not going anywhere, you need to stay and help.” I remember being impressed with how sharp his knives were and he had the short fingers to prove it! This would be the beginning of a friendship that would last for many years. For several years after that, I would stop by the L & M Processing and help him process wild game. I never really liked it, but I loved being with Leonard. I heard others call him by his nickname “Windy”, but to me he was Leonard. It was some time before I was able to get acquainted with his lovely wife, Morena, but as I got older, I found myself having a lot of meals with the two of them at Voss’s Truck Stop and then it later became Michael’s Café. (Stay tuned for the February 2026 edition for a particularly memorable story about Morena). Leonard and Morena always treated me like an adult, and I have always appreciated that about them.
“Windy’s Mom & Dad”
I guess I always assumed that Leonard’s parents were alive, but I never really knew them. It was on June 5, 1994 when I had the honor of learning a lot more about Leonard and his family tree. Leonard’s mother Opal May Hester Price died at the Nursing Home in Eads. It was then that I came to realize that Leonard had three sisters. All these years I had not known that Leonard and Virginia Marble were siblings. I had grown up with Virginia’s kids, they have been and are some of my best friends. I also learned that Lauretta Blankenbaker and Bobbi Harris were also his sisters. Both Lauretta and Bobbi and their families became dear and cherished friends as a result of my friendship with Leonard. I learned that Tom and Opal Price had come to this country from Oklahoma, originally moving to the area around Lamar where Tom worked in the broom corn fields. I learned that Tom and Opal had worked for Buck and Doris Price at the Trading Post Motel in Kit Carson before buying it themselves. They operated the Trading Post Motel until they retired in 1979. I was and always have been intrigued with the history of why and how people came and stayed here in this area. Well, I digress … The day came for Opal’s funeral at the United Methodist Church in Kit Carson. I have always had a habit, a good habit I believe, of leaving extra early to allow for any unforeseen problems. I headed north on Hwy 287 in my ’75 Cadillac four door limousine. That car, which I still own today had a 500 under the hood. It was generally just getting warmed up at about 80 mph. Sure as heck, just south of the CIG plant I met a trooper. I had barely entered Cheyenne County. I looked down and was doing about 80. He whipped around, pulled me over and wanted to know why I was going so fast. I’m pretty sure the speed limit was still 55 then. I tried to explain to him that I was needing to get to Kit Carson for a funeral. He let me off with a warning and away I went only to get about 2 miles up the road before blowing out a tire. I changed the tire, in my suit, and made it to the church with about 20 minutes to spare.
You Can’t Make This Stuff Up
Just nine days later on June 14, 1994, Leonard’s father, Milton “Tom” Price passed away. I was called to the nursing home again. Leonard and his sisters were there. It was good to see them, but I was sad that they had lost both of their parents in just a little over a week. Again, friends and family were scheduled to gather at the United Methodist Church in Kit Carson to honor Tom and all of the Price family. Emotions were still pretty raw because it had been just a few days since Opal had passed. Tom had been expected to die long before Opal, he was several years older, about 5, and had been in failing health for several years. So Opal’s passing was really not expected to happen before Tom’s. So as usual, on funeral day, I left extra early as was my routine. On this day, I was driving my ’73 Cadillac Masterpiece 3-way S & S Masterpiece Hearse. (I still have this car also). It too has a 500 under the hood. Just south of the CIG plant, same place, same trooper, same story, 80 mph. When he came to the window I don’t know who was more surprised, him or me. I explained that I was again on my way to Kit Carson for a funeral and that it was actually the funeral of the husband of the lady from our last encounter. He agreed to let me go with a warning. I jumped up off the shoulder and got to the same place where I had blown the tire before and met the trooper’s brother. (Yes there was a set of brothers that both worked for the CSP out of the Limon office back in the 90’s. I’m not too sure that their dad didn’t work there for a bit with them also.) I looked down and was only doing about 78. He pulled me over, this time I was getting a ticket. I told him that if he had given me just another ½ mile or so I would have had’er up to 85. He found no humor in this. I asked if he could follow me to Kit Carson and give me the ticket there so that I could get there and unload the casket for the funeral. Out of the goodness of his heart he agreed to do that.
God Bless Tom & Opal Price
We got the casket unloaded and set up at the church, and the patrolman was kind enough to give me my ticket in the parking lot of the UMC in Kit Carson in a hearse. I truly wonder if there has ever been another funeral director given a speeding ticket while sitting in the parking lot of a church??? I can’t begin to tell you how special this family has been to me all these many years. I miss my friend Leonard Price and all of his family. It has been my great honor to work for this family many, many times over the last nearly 40 years. Needless to say, we always had something to talk about after this experience. I can still hear his laugh as we recalled the events surrounding his parent’s funerals. Those two spots on Hwy 287 are indelibly etched in my mind. Life experiences that allow us to look back and realize “life really has been pretty darned good.” Things happen and it generally turns out all right but at the end of the day it sure does leave you longing for the “way things used to be.”
