Living in Virginia City was an experience on which I will reflect on for the rest of my life. It isn’t the normal kind of place one expects to live as a retired school teacher in her early 60’s. Not a place easily described or lost among other memories. Virginia City chooses you and also chooses whether or not to let you leave. She made her choice and kept VST, my better half. VC is a powerful entity that calls the shots on her own terms.
In this place, throughout the years we lived there, lived the strangest little man. His real name was Danny Eugene Beason, and beyond that I don’t know much about him. He was known to locals and tourists as Stink-E. The story is that he didn’t spell well, and chose this name for himself, adding a single E to the end. Some years before VST and I arrived on the scene, Stink-E acquired his burro, Burnadeen, from the Bureau of Land Management (the original BLM, by the way). Thousands of excess burros and horses are up for adoption, so if you are in the market, check that out.
Formally wild Burnadeen had to learn about people, and he would fill her in on who to trust or avoid. it appeared that Stink-E had learned a lot about people in his tattered and torn life. Born in Roswell, New Mexico, his life had been a complicated one. Rumors flew around local snooty-snoots like zephyr winds. Stink-E had personal problems that had gotten worse with age. Regardless of his hardships, almost every single day, Burnadeen and he roamed up and down “C” Street, selling the chance to feed a wild burro a carrot. $1.00 for the chance of a life time, just watch your fingers.
Burnadeen didn’t much care for me. Once, early on, I had crossed the street to visit this odd pair. She turned her tail to me when I approached. Believe me when I tell you I never knew so much could come out of a burro. It was the only time I saw her relieve herself while working. I never made an attempt to stand by her side again. Luckily, no clothes were soiled in my one failed attempt to say, “Hey”.
I never once spoke to Stink-E, as he lived up to his name. Some days, he wore old time one-piece, red, button-up pajamas that hadn’t been washed in some time. That paired with worn-out boots and a crumpled, smelly hat made him a sight to behold. Stink-E made sure he cared for his burro, as she might’ve been his only true friend. She knows all his secrets and at this point, she isn’t talking.
Just by chance, I was looking at random news clips when I found out that Stink-E died in early spring at the age of 70. His daughter reported that he suffered from dementia. A terrible hand was dealt to him. Burnadeen is left to carry on his legacy under the care of family members.
Being intrigued by the news, I dug a little deeper and found something that captured the love of Virginia City for her own. The townspeople had a funeral for the old man. A fine turn-out it was. If you look on YouTube under Stink-E’s Funeral, you can watch as he was laid to rest on a snowy March morning. As I watched the funeral, I saw faces that I used to know. Old acquaintances that may or may not have even noticed that I left. But more than that, I sensed the spirit of VC and realized I miss her. For six years, she was my home. The high mountain winds and snow will be in my heart forever. It was there I shared the last of VST’s forever.
The owner of the Silver Queen was there, hidden in the crowd. All the re-enactment actors and actresses had worn their finest outfits to say “Goodbye”. With a mule draw wagon, laying in a pine box, Stink-E made one last pass down “C” Street, with the town walking slowly behind. The procession made it’s way to the Virginia City Cemetary, where Stink-E has a place of honor. A mournful guitar played the song, “God Speed, Sweet Dreams”, through a young singer’s tears. I listened through mine. The song was beautifully sung and appropriate for the Stink-E with I shared Virginia City.
The service itself was perfectly VC. Simple. Heart Felt. Snow Covered. Wild. Western Wild. Just like the legendary Stink-E and Burnadeen themselves.
Now that I know he came from Roswell, there would have been many questions I might have asked him. Was he in Roswell when….? Had he seen anything? What troubled this man so that the demon alcohol often won his battles. How had Burnadeen changed his life? Had she at all? What did I miss by being my own stuffy version of a local snooty-snoot? I think a lot.
There is an absence on “C” Street that you wouldn’t know unless I’d told you. There’s another, younger version of Stink-E walking Burnadeen along to the delight of children and adults alike. I suppose Burnadeen will need to teach this new Stink-E the perils of meeting strangers. Burnadeen knows the ropes now, no longer free to roam the high desert plains from which she was snatched. So many victims in the sad story of Stink-E and Burnadeen. I hope he has found peace in a place called Heaven.
God Speed — sung by The Dixie Chicks
Dragon tales and the water is wide
Pirate’s sail and lost boys fly
Fish bite moonbeams every night
And I love you.
Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Sweet dreams.
The rocket racer’s all tuckered out
Superman’s in pajamas on the couch
Goodnight moon, we’ll find the mouse
And I love you.
Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Sweet dreams
God bless mommy and match box cars
God bless dad and thanks for the stars
God hears “Amen”, wherever you are
And I love you
God speed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
God speed
Sweet dreams.
RIP Stink-E. RIP.