Old Man George

        George was the old man I'd see when I'd go fishing.  He usually spent the long summer nights on the bank of Platt I Resevoir just out of the town of Sutherlin.   I still love the the old town, small, not many people, two thousand maybe three now so it's growing.  Yes, George was fun to chat with.  He'd reach in his shirt and pull out a bottle of Old Red Eye and take a swig then he'd pass you the bottle, that was something I couldn't do.  He had chewing tobacco druel running down his chin.  I  pushed the bottle back and said no thanks George, with a harty voice. He'd set the bottle down and start another story. I have to admit he was fun to listen too.

 

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