This is a simple story to anyone who cares to listen and not something I can tell, well most people. Only on the internet can I tell of the friendship I had with my buddy George. I had a similar relationship with my own father and family members, but this was slightly different. Not many of my family members know of the elephant in the room Jewish problem humanity faces and George was a gem having around to talk to when nobody else had even the capacity to understand.
I first met George fishing on a pier close to where I live some 10 years ago. I was passing through on an early evening Friday night on my bicycle and saw him fishing off the pier with lures. Knowing a little about fishing I suggested he used live bait if he wanted to catch anything. I took a chance of getting a dirty look back knowing people who fish don’t like to be talked to. People go fishing to get away usually as I do because the world is a mess, but I couldn’t resist. George didn’t look like the kind of guy who would get mad if I interrupted his peace so to speak. For some reason when people see a fishing rod in someone’s hand they think it is a license to ask that person questions and knowing so I only did it to try to help. He looked like someone who may be fishing for food and it wouldn’t be the first time I taught someone how to fish for food. He was in his late 60’s at least.
The response I got was not of ill nature, he knew I was trying to give him advice and not like the usual reply I would get. He was brutally honest right from the start. He said he didn’t like to use live bait because he cared about the little fish as well as the big fish. He was a shepherd in Lebanon as a young boy and raised sheep that were eventually slaughtered. He befriended these sheep spending the days with them (as I would do myself) and would have to have them slaughtered to pay the bills. It wasn’t what he wanted to do in life.
George was a diesel mechanic I found out and had worked on one of my brothers cars, an old Volvo wagon. I ran into George again back when I was still going to Catholic church with my elderly father and I wouldn’t take my car anywhere else in those days. Eventually everyone in my family that lived around me took their cars to George, diesel or not. He would never accept payment unless it was in French wine which I shared with him uncteen times (we would twist his arm with great difficulty, but it was always a fight). The man was a saint.
George died about a year ago and I wanted to write something about him then, but who to? George knew the Jew as well as anyone I have ever known. I used to bring recordings of tapes about Jews from the Internet ( all kinds) and he sat in complete silence listening to every word). After he would connect the dots from things he had heard growing up in Lebanon from his parents, Aunts, Uncles, etc… The information he brought was astonishing. He was a genius and nobody knew the information he had in old sacks of his mind for years.
George had a garage with an old trashed RV parked next to it and if he had no cars to work on we would go inside and share all the knowledge we had on the humongous Jewish subject. Never did he claim I was taking it too far or that I was crazy, if I said something unbelievable he would dig in for the truth every time. George never knew the information he gave me was valuable because he lived in the old days and had it implanted in him. He would say things that he thought meant nothing, but they meant everything. George was one of the most devout people of good will I ever met. All the homeless people knew George because he helped them out. He wouldn’t turn down anyone not even a Jew ( a defect many of us have).
George was under a truck trapped, a jack had slipped off and nearly crushed George, but he was alright after jacking him out. He was right back to work the next day. A couple of days later he told me he had his blood pressure checked at Wal Mart, he didn’t want to go near Jew doctors. The next week George was in the hospital with a tumor said to be the size of a grapefruit and of course didn’t make it with the army of Jewish doctors we have to be thankful for. George went out with dignity.
George left some great kids behind and some good friends that will never forget him or the sacrifices he made for the truth. He was never in it for the money more than the truth. never disturbed nature, believed in the truth, justice and good will to all.
Not many people showed up at George’s funeral and not many cried as I did as I did my own father because the world doesn’t know right from wrong or good from bad.
Rest in peace George. I will never forget! The information you passed along will fuel engines like you never believed. George had live bait after all.