Dennis Turmon 1947-2024

by Kristi & Lynn Miller

This summer we lost a dear sweet and pesky friend, Dennis Turmon, a fine, fine gentle meteor of a man inserting himself with smiles, warmth, insistence, tremendous capability and great good humor into the everyday world of farmers, ranchers, rural heritage, his neighbors and church folk.

Here abouts he was an unheralded humble, tough as nails, giant in the quiet localized worlds of cattle ranching, country ways, auctioneering and friendship maintenance. He was a true artist, genius and champion in the craft and trade of auctions. He loved them and seldom more than when he was in the deepest sweaty catch-as-catch-can center of it all. He thrilled at the chance to make it all succeed.

He loved hardworking people for it was something he sought and understood in himself. He had a natural gift for bringing good humor to most any occasion.

For going on three decades he was our true-blue partner in the long history of conducting annual auctions for this publication’s community. A few thousand of us came to know and trust Dennis implicitly. With that came a large measure of love and admiration. When Dennis showed up it was natural to think “now everything is going to be okay.” He saw to it.

And he held his standards close as a hands-on man who felt somehow betrayed by the disconnects of the digital revolution. He was an old fashioned cowboy through and through.

We all lost him when he passed in a tragic accident while unloading hay at his place. It was his way, because Dennis died working. He passed with his boots on and his muscles flexed and a goal in sight. For him that had to have been the definition of perfect.

Dennis was superb at his work, didn’t matter if it was setting up antique or farm auctions, helping us to sell horsedrawn paraphernalia, doing appraisals, volunteering his efforts at benefit auctions for many important causes, or just helping neighbors and friends. Many is the time that his only pay was a handshake. Dennis Turmon was the essence of a selfless man, always doing for others.

He left behind him his best friend and partner, his loving wife Kris, his family, and a wide circle of folks who, along with us, had been tricked into trusting that he would always be right there when we needed him. Most days now, out in our fields, we find ourselves teasing or arguing with him — That’s how we know we will always miss him. It’s just that it feels like he’s still here. Hasn’t left, not really.

He had, in recent years a favorite parting phrase, his genius way of reminding himself that his job was to make us smile and to remind himself how happy he was to know you. He’d say “I’m glad you got to see me.”

Yes, Dennis, we are too, so very enriched and grateful to have shared this life with you. We love you Dennis, always will.