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Funny, the last couple of days, George has occupied my thoughts some. I knew that he had been ill. I remember George from my earliest days fishing. He dug worms at Cold Storage Beach because the flats warden in P-town kept throwing him out. I'd walk down at lowtide and his old Wagoneer would be there, as reliably as the tide itself. We'd chit-chat. I thought he was pretty cool for an older guy (in reality, I'm probably older now than he was then). I never knew that he made plugs until much later, even after I'd bought some in Nelson's when it was upstairs across the lot. They worked. Good to have met ya George, I'll catch up later.
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