She was sweet, kind, intelligent and the bravest woman I ever knew

By Ken Tingley

It may be unfair, but there are often one or two stories that define us, whether we like it or not.

We were on vacation - my wife Gillian, her sister Jo and myself - and looking for a parking place down by the beach. We finally parked our compact car in a paid public lot where you paid by machine. After swiping the credit card, I entered the parking space number.

It was then that Jo piped up.

She told us we needed to be careful.

She heard a news story about people trying to avoid payment. They picked up small cars in the paid parking spaces and moved them to unpaid spots where they were promptly towed.

We looked back at her incredulously.

“So there are marauding bands of tourists with superhuman strength moving cars from one parking place to another to save a few dollars on parking,” I said in my most sarcastic voice.

She insisted it was true.

That was Jo.

There was an innocence about her that was refreshing, but also a wariness. She was not a careless person. She purchased warranties. She never missed a doctor’s appointment. She had more than one flashlight at the ready. She was more prepared than any Girl Scout and I wouldn’t be surprised if she had her teeth clean three times a year.

So the parking lot story stuck because it was so out of character for such an informed woman. We rolled it out at the outset of every vacation and anytime we had to pay for parking because we loved to tease Jo. Part of me regrets that now. Maybe I did it too much.

We lost her last week suddenly and without notice when she was stricken in her home. She was 67 but she could have passed for 50, hell, maybe 40.

Josephine K.Burgess - 1955-2023. She was 67. Honest.

She was a beautiful young woman - inside and out - and I will always remember her for the orderly way she addressed the chaos around her with a smile and a plan.

Not long ago we were reminiscing about our college days and Jo related many of the women she went to school with at the University of Kentucky were there to find husbands, not a career. She said she was looking for a career.

“What was your major,” I asked.

“Home economics,” she said.

I let out a loud laugh. She did not see the irony in that. The plan was not to get a husband but to become a clothes buyer for a big department store chain.

Upon graduation, she was selected into an exclusive training program at Montgomery Ward and moved to Chicago. Home economics worked out.

I walked into her life a couple years later because I was dating her sister. It took her one dinner to approve the match, saying we had the same sense of humor.

At the time, I was a young sportswriter who was not making a lot of money and knew even less about the world. I was totally intimidated by Jo. She was was the whole package. She was smart, worldly, a fashionista and beautiful.

She was the first person I ever saw send back a drink because it was not to her liking.

Then, the first person to send back a meal, and that was at a Howard Johnson’s on the Massachusetts Turnpike.

Using what we called “her HR voice,” she later, sent back a waiter who was subpar. She did it nicely and with a smile on her face.

It was amazing to see see her in action.

On Sept. 25, 1982 Gillian Burgess (third from left) walked down the aisle in a wedding dress made by Josephine Burgess (left). My brother Dave (right) and I were just window dressing.

Jo was Gillian’s maid of honor at our wedding, but she went a step further. She made Gillian’s wedding dress. And that was perfect too.

When Montgomery Ward ran into financial troubles a few years later, Jo was laid off, but landed a job at another big retail chain in Connecticut. She met a man, fell in love, got married and seemed to be living the life in the Boston suburbs.

We learned later the relationship turned abusive and when it turned physical, she set in motion an exit strategy fueled by fear.

For months, she squirreled away part of her paycheck in a separate bank account. She started packing personal belonging in boxes and hiding them in the basement until there were dozens hidden all over the house. She found an apartment in another Boston suburb. She hired a moving company, secured a lawyer and set in motion divorce proceedings. She did this in secret, without much help and probably in fear she might be found out. I’m not sure how she slept at night.

When she enlisted our help, I was reluctant to get involved. But Gillian was resolute about helping her sister. She had her back and Jo had hers. On the day of the move, Gillian and I hid in a coffee shop in the small town looking for her husband’s car to drive by. We were instructed to come to her house after we saw him leave for work. There were no cell phones in those days.

The movers arrived minutes after her husband left - even before we did - and Jo was orchestrating the clandestine move with authority and precision.

We helped pack the rest of her belongings as quickly as we could and she fled with the two dogs before her husband returned. We then moved her into into a second floor apartment.

Later that night, with the house missing some of its furniture, her husband was served divorce papers.

This petite, dainty little woman had planned and executed an escape that went totally undetected. She hid out for months and we were sworn to secrecy. It’s that bravery you should know about now as we mourn Jo Burgess.

But what came next was even more impressive.

While working in human resources at a Boston hospital, she began attending night school to get her masters. She went on to work for the medical device manufacturer Boston Scientific and moved to Glens Falls to be closer to her parents and sister. I saw far more of Jo, Mavis and Bob than I did of my own family.

I never had a sister, so Jo became my sister. 

She was the godmother to our son and a second mother to him. If something ever happened to us, we knew Joseph would be left in good hands.

When Gillian got sick, she was always there to help, to do what was needed. She would do anything to help her sister. And god help anyone who got in the way.

Jo had a long and successful career in Human Resources. Yeah, I teased her about that, too. When I was editor of the newspaper, I often went to her for personnel advice. I trusted her more than our own HR people. I teased her Human Resources was the enemy. She argued she was there to help the people in her company.

I have no doubt she did.

She rebuilt her life on her own terms. If she was lonely, she never spoke of it.

Afterward, we rarely talked about the clandestine move or her abusive relationship. She was of English stock and you don’t talk about those personal things. I think I told her once how impressed I was with her bravery. I hope I did. I hope she forgives me for talking about it now.  Even for those who knew her, the story might surprise them; that this pixie of a woman walked through the gates of hell for a time, then rebuilt her life.

Josephine (left) made repeated trips to the Hawaiian Island. After her passing this week, she asked that we spread her ashes in the state of Hawaii. We will honor those wishes.

Jo would be horrified by the way she left us last week.

It was sudden and unplanned.

It was not her style to leave loose ends and unfinished business.

We planned on celebrating her birthday Friday with dinner and a comedy show at the Park Theater.

Hanging on her closet door was a perfectly coordinated outfit it appeared she had picked for the occasion.

That was Jo ready to go 48 hours ahead of time.

She didn’t always have it all together. Her father used the car horn as a weapon when he was left too long waiting in the driveway while Jo fluffed her hair. But when she finally appeared, she always looked like a million bucks.

Every time.

She was perfect like that, a marvel to behold and knowing we won’t be seeing that anymore breaks our hearts.

We hope to take her back one final time to Hawaii in the fall. You can be sure we will be careful where we park our compact car.