George Oliver Small

George Small

Born March 3, 1938 to August 22, 2024 He was 86

My father, George, was born and raised in Paonia, Colorado. His family had a fruit orchard as their livelihood. His grandfather settled in the Paonia area in 1879.

 George left home for the first time at 14 and worked for a traveling carnival. He returned home at 15 and at 16 married the love of his life, my mother, Julia Valentine. They were together for 66 years as partners and best friends.

 A gentleman by the name of Rob Mulford, wrote a book about the coal mine that George worked at in Redstone, Colorado. Here is an excerpt in the book about my father. (He called my father, Handsome George not using last names in his book)

'HANDSOME GEORGE AND THE CHERRY TREE'. George Handsome was one of those Mancos Sea miners whose pre-shift bathhouse basket transformation merely served as a costume change for a strikingly bigger than life persona. You might say he had been gifted that way from childhood. 

 George was scarcely over 12 when he first beguiled the eyes of a young woman. It was harvest season 1950 in the western Colorado town of Paonia. Julia was living with her parents in Denver when George's father and a friend of her family, stopped in for a visit. During the course of the conversation the two men who were on there way to Paonia to pick fruit on the small family Orchard, broached the thought to Julies folks that it might be a good idea that she join them. Per chance to get some work experience and possibly make a little money. Julie's folks were agreeable and the following morning they were off bound for the western slopes fruit basket. It was in one of those cherry trees that Julie picked the love of her life. 

 Not dissuaded by the fact that12 year old George already had a companion, a whistle pig that would wander the living room where she slept nights, it's toe nails clicking the floor, threatening to leap upon the couch and join her. She held out, allowing George to ripen to maturity. Four years later, having taken the vows of matrimony, they were off to Denver to till that hard road to hoe, starting a family as teenagers.

 Reminiscing years later, George explained. "We went east to Denver and I worked over there for a little while on a ranch in Kiowa, and a water treatment plant in Parker, Colorado.

After that, I followed construction working on bridges and roads on I-70 and i-25. We moved to Durango where I worked on the Lemon Dam. We then moved to Dillon and worked on the Dillon Dam. Then off to Leadville to work at the Climax Mine, after that to Glenwood Springs, working on the first two tunnels in the Glenwood Canyon. I remember living in Leadville where it snowed 30 months out of 32. Later, in Glenwood Springs, the construction work slowed down, so I went to work at the Mine in Redstone, Colorado for three months until it would resume. I ended up working at Mid-Continent there in Redstone for 19 years.

 Having taken on the role of family provider at age 16, eking out whatever kind of living a young man without a college education could, in Colorado's ranching, construction, and mining industries, George had not been a stranger to hard work. Jumping into it as enthusiastically as he had his marriage to Julie. His 15 years of rough and tumble work of experience earned prior to coming on board at Redstone, Mid-Continent Coal Mine. Had fused, with his formidable frame, musculature and stature, to produce a man that one could neither ignore as invisible, nor for that matter, want to mess with. Some tried, only to later acknowledge the ill-advisability of their actions.

 Some of the mines that my father worked at, besides Redstone, was Oxbow, Colorado Westmoreland in Paonia, and 20 mile in Craig, CO. When he retired, he worked on construction working with me building homes. He also worked in Crawford, CO on an Elk Ranch, Black Canyon Bulls. He was an avid outdoorsman and enjoyed hunting. But mostly, riding the Colorado high country horseback. He also loved cutting firewood. I can remember may times camping with my father. We would go into the high country with two horses and a mule. Many times, our bed was a saddle laid backwards against a tree, being our pillow, the saddle blanket was our mattress on the ground and our poncho was our blanket. He loved the outdoors more than anything and all of the wildlife.

 My father was surely rough around the edges but had a soft heart. Many times I saw him help others with whatever he had that he could give them. Twice in the wintertime, I saw him give his coat to someone and whatever money he had in his pocket to a complete stranger. He was a life-long member of Jehovah's Witnesses. He would take every opportunity to tell others of his hope in God's Kingdom. As he grew older, in the last few years of his life, he took comfort in his favorite scripture, Rev. 21:3,4 where it says, "Look, the tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them. And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and Death will be no more. Neither will mourning nor outcry or pain will be any more, the former things have passed away". Ecclesiastes 9;5 ;10 'but the dead know nothing at all, there is no work nor planning or knowledge nor wisdom in the grave. John 5:28, 'Do not be amazed at this, for the hour is coming in which all in the memorial tombs will hear his voice and come out.' My father took comfort in the account of Job. In Job 14:12-15, ' Man lies down and does not get up. Until heaven is no more. they will not wake up. Nor will they be aroused from there sleep. O that in the grave you would conceal me. That you would hide me until your anger passes by, that you would set a time limit for me and remember me. If a man dies, can he live again? I will wait all the days of my compulsory service until my relief comes. You will call and I will answer you.

 He believed that God would remember him and he felt that he would be sleeping, not being in any pain. And in the resurrection he and my mom would be together again.

He grieved for my mother until his death. Even with his faith, the sting of death is not natural, but an enemy. 

Thank you for helping me remember my father and his hope for the future.