Singleton tells of friend who passed away in the mountains of Colorado

Silverton, Colorado

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Old man finds peace living in the Rocky Mountains” was originally published in the March 4, 1993 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Throughout the Old Testament, there is evidence of men going into the mountains for prayer and meditation. During this time, just before the blossoms of spring dot the landscape, the hills seem to beckon those who seek this solitude more than any other time of the year. The stillness of the deep valleys and the quietness of the life around adds even more to the peace and solitude.

As the cold crisp winds sway the leafless branches of the timber, peace fills the soul and all the burdens of life seems to fade in the distance. The quietness of the moment fills the mind, and time seems to stand still.

Brushing away all thoughts and problems of tomorrow, this moment seems that it will last for all eternity. The stillness of the evening seems also to add a moment of sadness, for within a few short days, the coming of spring will fill the air with change and beauty. The cold, crisp quietness of winter will have faded, and Mother Nature will once again paint the land with a magnitude of beauty and color.

Perhaps I am trying to write about something that I don’t understand. Perhaps on this chilly and beautiful Saturday afternoon, I am letting the stillness around me sway my thinking.

Realms of eternity

It could be that I need to throw my head back and scream to the high heavens. But then, I stand here atop this high hill and face the western skies and the setting sun, not daring to make a sound in fear that I might disturb the realms of eternity.

I have, in my lifetime, been fortunate to travel to many parts of this world. Nowhere have I found that true feeling of peace, as to be had in the closing days of winter atop the high hills.

During a time, my family and I had the wonderful privilege to live at the foot of the great Rocky Mountains. During my spare time, I sought out the old mountain men who came to town once or twice a year for their few supplies. As I would sit and talk to these old men, many who had left their homes for the peace and solitude of the high country, I learned many things.

I became best friends with an old man who lived in a rough log cabin, located high in the mountains above 11,000 feet elevation. This old man had at one time been a successful businessman in the state of New York.

During his business career, he had become quite wealthy. But, according to his story, all his money could not buy the peace of mind that he longed for. Because of the hectic life of his successful business, he had never married and started a family. He was so busy seeking great wealth that he had let much of life pass him by.

All the money he needed

“I had all the money that I could have ever spent,” he related to me. “But my nerves began to fail me. I was about to suffer a nervous breakdown. My doctor ordered me to get away from the business for a while and take it easy.

“Taking my doctor’s advice, I visited the high mountains of Colorado. From the hotel where I was staying, I began to venture into the high country. On one of these trips, I came across this old shabby log cabin that was vacant and run down. I began to inquire about its owner and soon it belonged to me.

“I moved from the fine and comfortable hotel suite to the bare old cabin that had only a fireplace, a rough handmade table, and an old bed made of crude, rough planks that stood in the corner of the one room cabin.

“Within a few days, I returned to the town of Silverton, where I drafted a letter to my brother and to my business associates. My instructions were to dispose of all my holdings and property. I informed them that I would never return. I had found that which I had been looking for all these years. I had found peace.

“One cannot know the true facts about life and death and total peace of mind unless they witness and be a part of the high country. One must be able to view the vastness of the great mountains and become a part of them before the true meaning of their purpose here on this planet is made known to them.

Gain knowledge

“That is why those men of the Old Testament sought the high mountains to gain knowledge and companionship with the Creator. I would not trade a moment of the peace and contentment that I have come to know, for all the wealth and property that I could have had. When the hand of death reaches out to me, I will be at peace with myself. I will be in the high country.”

This was part of the last conversation I had with my old mountain friend. I was to learn later, after I had left the area, that my friend had passed away, there on the side of the high mountain peak. Death had found him just as he had said it would, there on the mountain.

He was found by two elk hunters, seeking refuge from a blinding snow storm. The old man was found sitting in front of the crude stone fireplace, as if he had fallen asleep, in the one crude chair within his beloved cabin.

A small headstone marks the spot where the old mountain man now sleeps, just a few steps to the west of the cabin he loved so much. As I visited the spot some years later, I was reminded of what he had said during our last conversation. He was now at peace.

As I stood there beside the small unkept grave that day in October 1974, I think I felt some of that peace of mind and contentment of the soul, just as he had relayed to me in our conversation many times earlier.

And as I looked into the chilly October skies above me, I knew, too, that soon this place would sleep beneath a soft blanket of deep snow that would protect and cover the lone grave until the early days of the coming summer.

Walking down the long, lonely narrow trail that carried me back to our so-called civilization, I knew that my friend was in good hands. Here on the high mountain, he had found that which he had searched for in life. There are many in this society that haven’t been so lucky.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)