George was in my homeroom. I know guys may not like it said about that they are sweet but he was one of the sweetest kindest boys I remember. The Class of 1961 lost a fine person.
I remember well George and always liked him and felt his pain with epilepsy. It was horrible to see but he was a class person. Sorry to hear about his death.
George was in a speech class with me ( Mr. Crain) He had an episode one day and I was in front of him in a desk. He reached for my shoulders to steady himself. I was afraid for him but just prayed through the episode until it passed. He was handsome , easy going and people were drawn to him. I have never forgotten that day. We each have a journey and must look around and be a friend to those who need one.
I remember the first time I met George: a touch football game one afternoon in front of the school toward the end of our class's seventh grade year and of his "first" eighth grade attempt. (He had to try eighth grade again and, I think with some behind-the-scenes manulipation on the part of my mother, was assigned 8-3 homeroom, which I was in, because we wanted to be together.) There was some sort of instant chemistry between us which I cannot explain, but the bottom line is that we were together doing something--usually outdoors (although we did play a lot of poker indoors, and opened many twelve ounce cans of something or the other, until all hours, as we got older)--almost every single day or night including summers (that's not an overstatement: virtually every day) all the way through the summer following graduation from WSHS. Through all the subsequent changes and events, we remained close, though we were in touch and saw each other less and less as time went on. I was quite aware of that and was sorry, but that's how life is: things change.
George lived with the terrible, terrible burden of full-blown, grand mal epilepsy and the innumerable rammifications of it, made worse by the medications he took in an effort to control his condition. (George was very bright: the meds were the reason he had trouble with his grades.) It's amazing he was able to do much of anything, but he did. As Dyer said in his comments, George was a class act--though, I would add, strictly in his own unique way. He finally underwent what, for the time, was a state-of-the-art surgical procedure for his disease. For several years, the brain surgery seemed to have cured him completely. It was like a dream come true. He could drive. He had a good job. He had a life. Then, after his world had completely changed for the better, what he called his "dizzy spells" came back, and the rug was jerked out from under him. But he kept on keeping on. Too much so, in fact, because he continued to drive (who can blame him)....until they found his body in his truck after his disease had caused him to run it off the road, crash, and burn up.
He was perhaps the most unusual (maybe 'oddest'--in a positive sense--is more honest) person I have ever known--at least tied for first--and his knowledge of the outdoors was astonishing. It sounds off the wall, but--along with my parents and the late Jim Dickinson--George taught me (both the good and the bad) a significant chunk of what I know about life. Decade after decade, when it seems like all that can possibly go wrong has in fact gone wrong, I take my .22 and maybe some targets to the woods, or go fishing, or go hiking, or take my binoculars and just sit there and watch nature--things George and I did together for years and that I can do, frankly, better than most because he showed me how--and soon everything is OK again. Often on those occasions, I still feel George's presence, but he's not there, and I miss him every day of my life.
Addendum: By the way, Alyce is correct that George was a sweet person, but he was also one of the most formidable fighters that ever came down the pike, and, believe me, it took very little--if any--provocation for him to prove it one more time! He didn't care who, or how big, or how old, or where he was, he just did his thing like lightening striking and absolutely, totally kicked butt. (Kids don't seem to do that anymore! I think we were better off when they did.) He was also an all-round gifted athlete (teriffic natural foot speed), but couldn't play organized sports because of his epilepsy and the complications (including grades) that went with it. This was always frustrating and disappointing for him. Who knows what might have been if George had been "like other people"....but, if he had been, he wouldn't have been George, and I wouldn't be writing this. I still have the original drafts of some of his poems. He was, to say the least, a complex and fascinating individual.
Sorry to go on and on, but I could write a book about George and not scratch the surface. There was so much more there than ever occurred to most folks. Those of us who knew him are much the better for it, whether we realize it or not.
Bill Newport certainly gave a very fitting tribute to one of my very best school friends. As Dave Tyree often said, the Lord certainly looked out for George. I still remember vividly the day George stuck his arm down into a murkey green water tank on his family's small "farm" and after swishing his arm around for a while, he came up with a huge snapping turtle, one which could have easily taken off a finger. Then on to one of the cages which housed a very angry raccoon that George and his dad had caught. From George's own accounts, I can visualize him out on a tree limb trying to get a raccoon down. George loved the outdoors and he was good at hunting and fishing.
More than anything, George wanted to be a football player. Were it not for his condition, he would have been an outstanding performer. He was very fast and quick in his moves. Unfortunately, excessive physical activity seemed to be a trigger for his seizures. I sat with George through many of his "dizzy spells" and remember how physically exhausted he would be when the seizure had subsided. I witnessed so many of them that I began to recognize the symptoms of their early onset and would encourage George to sit and "wait it out."
I too remember a lot of fun times playing cards with George et al. Having been away from WSHS and the city of Memphis for so many years, I've not kept track of my high school friends as perhaps I should have. I'm very sad to learn of George's passing. Thanks Bill for your very heart-felt and informative message.
Alyce Newberry (Guthrie)
George was in my homeroom. I know guys may not like it said about that they are sweet but he was one of the sweetest kindest boys I remember. The Class of 1961 lost a fine person.
Susan Wyatt (Lyle)
I was in that same homeroom and agree about George. I also remember how the other students would help George when he was not well.
Donald Blaine Dyer
I remember well George and always liked him and felt his pain with epilepsy. It was horrible to see but he was a class person. Sorry to hear about his death.
Billie Hall (Cash)
George was in a speech class with me ( Mr. Crain) He had an episode one day and I was in front of him in a desk. He reached for my shoulders to steady himself. I was afraid for him but just prayed through the episode until it passed. He was handsome , easy going and people were drawn to him. I have never forgotten that day. We each have a journey and must look around and be a friend to those who need one.
Billie Hall Cash
William Lamar Newport
I remember the first time I met George: a touch football game one afternoon in front of the school toward the end of our class's seventh grade year and of his "first" eighth grade attempt. (He had to try eighth grade again and, I think with some behind-the-scenes manulipation on the part of my mother, was assigned 8-3 homeroom, which I was in, because we wanted to be together.) There was some sort of instant chemistry between us which I cannot explain, but the bottom line is that we were together doing something--usually outdoors (although we did play a lot of poker indoors, and opened many twelve ounce cans of something or the other, until all hours, as we got older)--almost every single day or night including summers (that's not an overstatement: virtually every day) all the way through the summer following graduation from WSHS. Through all the subsequent changes and events, we remained close, though we were in touch and saw each other less and less as time went on. I was quite aware of that and was sorry, but that's how life is: things change.
George lived with the terrible, terrible burden of full-blown, grand mal epilepsy and the innumerable rammifications of it, made worse by the medications he took in an effort to control his condition. (George was very bright: the meds were the reason he had trouble with his grades.) It's amazing he was able to do much of anything, but he did. As Dyer said in his comments, George was a class act--though, I would add, strictly in his own unique way. He finally underwent what, for the time, was a state-of-the-art surgical procedure for his disease. For several years, the brain surgery seemed to have cured him completely. It was like a dream come true. He could drive. He had a good job. He had a life. Then, after his world had completely changed for the better, what he called his "dizzy spells" came back, and the rug was jerked out from under him. But he kept on keeping on. Too much so, in fact, because he continued to drive (who can blame him)....until they found his body in his truck after his disease had caused him to run it off the road, crash, and burn up.
He was perhaps the most unusual (maybe 'oddest'--in a positive sense--is more honest) person I have ever known--at least tied for first--and his knowledge of the outdoors was astonishing. It sounds off the wall, but--along with my parents and the late Jim Dickinson--George taught me (both the good and the bad) a significant chunk of what I know about life. Decade after decade, when it seems like all that can possibly go wrong has in fact gone wrong, I take my .22 and maybe some targets to the woods, or go fishing, or go hiking, or take my binoculars and just sit there and watch nature--things George and I did together for years and that I can do, frankly, better than most because he showed me how--and soon everything is OK again. Often on those occasions, I still feel George's presence, but he's not there, and I miss him every day of my life.
Addendum: By the way, Alyce is correct that George was a sweet person, but he was also one of the most formidable fighters that ever came down the pike, and, believe me, it took very little--if any--provocation for him to prove it one more time! He didn't care who, or how big, or how old, or where he was, he just did his thing like lightening striking and absolutely, totally kicked butt. (Kids don't seem to do that anymore! I think we were better off when they did.) He was also an all-round gifted athlete (teriffic natural foot speed), but couldn't play organized sports because of his epilepsy and the complications (including grades) that went with it. This was always frustrating and disappointing for him. Who knows what might have been if George had been "like other people"....but, if he had been, he wouldn't have been George, and I wouldn't be writing this. I still have the original drafts of some of his poems. He was, to say the least, a complex and fascinating individual.
Sorry to go on and on, but I could write a book about George and not scratch the surface. There was so much more there than ever occurred to most folks. Those of us who knew him are much the better for it, whether we realize it or not.
Dale Mahal
Bill Newport certainly gave a very fitting tribute to one of my very best school friends. As Dave Tyree often said, the Lord certainly looked out for George. I still remember vividly the day George stuck his arm down into a murkey green water tank on his family's small "farm" and after swishing his arm around for a while, he came up with a huge snapping turtle, one which could have easily taken off a finger. Then on to one of the cages which housed a very angry raccoon that George and his dad had caught. From George's own accounts, I can visualize him out on a tree limb trying to get a raccoon down. George loved the outdoors and he was good at hunting and fishing.
More than anything, George wanted to be a football player. Were it not for his condition, he would have been an outstanding performer. He was very fast and quick in his moves. Unfortunately, excessive physical activity seemed to be a trigger for his seizures. I sat with George through many of his "dizzy spells" and remember how physically exhausted he would be when the seizure had subsided. I witnessed so many of them that I began to recognize the symptoms of their early onset and would encourage George to sit and "wait it out."
I too remember a lot of fun times playing cards with George et al. Having been away from WSHS and the city of Memphis for so many years, I've not kept track of my high school friends as perhaps I should have. I'm very sad to learn of George's passing. Thanks Bill for your very heart-felt and informative message.