BOUND TO HAPPEN.

He was someone you could rely on. You’ve got a problem:

He’d say, “How can I help.” That was George. Dependable.

Likeable. Someone who seemed easy to take advantage of.

Don’t dare try it.

I met him on a film shoot some years ago. You’d find him

mostly in print ads. He was tall with that unspoken charm a

camera easily picks up.

I discovered he had come with his family from Slovakia to farm here.

He went back to Europe only to return to the Holland Marsh north of Toronto.

With its rich soil.

He was mostly into still shots, for ads and went on from there to work in TV

commercials.

I gave it a whirl when a woman looked me over at party. “You could be

“a model,” she said. “You don’t have to be handsome.”

Drop a suit on George and you’d think it had been strictly made for him.

When it would have been truly off the rack.

Writer’s comment: He and I became friends along with our families.

His wife, Lydia, was originally from Eastern Europe, a genuine person in her

own right. She also knew how to handle him. As Rosanne does me.

George died several days ago. A shock! A sobering one. There are those

you don’t even think of dying. Tough on their daughter, Anna.

And their grandchildren: David, Anthony and Johnathon. Many are gone. Like his wife, Lydia, who

predeceased him. She was his rock. His safe place.

IN A HURRY.

Why is it when I end my break, odds are someone will s walk up the long driveway to pound on the door.

“I’m selling the things you probably don’t need or

want,” she said. “You don’t know where to put

them anyway. Or you hid them?” She gave me

small handful and went away before I could react.

“Look what I found,” my wife said popping

into my home office. “I’ve been looking at these.”

She took a handful of the ‘stuff’ and marched

off with a smile on her face

Writer’s comment: I was talking to another friend.

He said, “Find a drawer your wife seldom uses. Up

in the attic is a real good place for stuff like that. “

I was climbing up several days later with the same

junk when my wife came home. “Where are you off to,”

she said matter-of-factly.

”Checking for mice, “ I murmured.

“Good idea. We should do it more often.”

My grin was bigger than hers.

The chocolates were all mine!