June in the Chattahoochee Valley. Time for fresh tomatoes, peaches, blackeye peas and sweet tea. It is also the season for company picnics, if anyone is still doing those. Every year about this time, I get nostalgic about a particular company picnic and what, short of someone dying, turned out to be the saddest day of my life. The evening of May 22, 1959 was a night I’ll never forget. I was in my bed in our little East Highland home on 20th Street in Columbus.