George A. Hill, Jr.
George was my Aunt Shennie's best friend. She met him through Susan, a gal she met at church a few years ago. Susan was George's wife. Susan died from cancer a few years back, and George and Shennie became good friends. Everyday after work, she went to his house, or he came over to hers. They'd watch the news, she'd try and get him to watch an episode of MASH with her (her fave tv show), they'd eat dinner. While she was sick (before I gave her Lucky Leftie), he kept her in good spirits. I got to meet him while I was in Boston last year. He came over one night and we all had a great time. A couple of nights later, he came back and brought gi-nor-mous shrimp with him. I have never in my life seen shrimp this big. He had them in his freezer, wasn't planning on making them anytime soon, and the day before, I had mentioned that there was no good seafood in the Mid-west. So he brought me his huge shrimp. They were amazing. I kept meaning to send him an Omaha steak to pay him back, but I waited too long. George died last week. He was an older gentleman, but had emphysema like you wouldn't believe. Wore an oxygen tube, dragging one of those oxygen tank carts with him wherever he went. His daughter has asked that no flowers be sent, but that donations be made to a Flyfishing camp in Maine. So that is what I'll do. George was an avid flyfisher, and he loved to teach kids how to tie flies, and he organized youth fishing tournaments in his area. So, I want to donate to this camp, hopefully allowing them to help some disadvantaged younster go to camp, or buy a new rod, or supplies. Something. They will best know to spend the money.
George, sorry I didn't send you that steak. I hope that the camp donation makes up for it. You were a great great man, and my aunt was lucky to know you for so long. Godspeed, George.