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Close to Nowhere By Linda Jones Ms. Dottie was one of a kind... Dottie
Chumney passed away last week after a long bout with cancer. If I’m not
mistaken, she was on her fourth round of chemo/treatment. She was one of the first people around here that I wrote a story about. And boy, was she interesting -- then and now. I’d
never met her before, when I traipsed to her store in Red Banks. Boots
’N Spurs was probably the first Western store I’d been in also. The
store itself was fascinating. Full of “stuff” -- Western, cowboy, junk,
you name it, you could probably find it there. I was delighted to find
a spindle -- round heavy bottom, thin pointed spike to poke papers on.
Dottie gave me that spindle and I still have it -- full of poked papers
that I’m sure I’m gonna need some day soon. Dottie
herself though, made a great story. Tall, blonde, attractive, dressed
in cowboy boots, jeans and a checked shirt, she epitomized my idea of a
“Western” woman. At that point in my life, I was
still shy and reticient. (Yeah, I know, but this was years ago!) Dottie
was confident and a real people person. She told
the most interesting stories -- most of which she asked me not to
print. I was delighted to hear stories about her days in Army
Intelligence and all her escapades overseas. We
became friends over the years -- she calling in ads and what-have-you
to the paper and my daughter, granddaughters and I shopping with her. Dottie
was always confident, always cheerful and always a saleswoman. If I
brought my granddaughters in with me, she could find something for me
to buy them. Or for her to give them. As a
non-horse person, I often didn’t know what I was looking at in the
Western side of the store, but over on the Tradin’ Post side, I was a
happy camper. As a “junk” addict, there was
always something interesting over there. I bought a beautiful burled
wood wardrobe and a paper maché rabbit butler that’s as tall as my
waist. He has on a green waistcoat, black pants and spats and has a
jaunty smile to go along with his wonderful tall ears. As any good
butler, he’s holding a tray out and I keep all kinds of stuff piled on
it -- right at the moment he’s holding a wooden basket full of stuffed
cats and assorted other critters. Dottie visited
CrossPointe Church about a month ago with Marion and Sonny Pryor. She
wasn’t happy and cheerful anymore, she was sick. She looked tired,
although I never heard her complain. I’m betting she’s smiling and cheerful again now!
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