Like George and Norah, I was born and grew-up in Runcorn, a small industrial town in the North of England. No-one in our working-class family ever went on holiday abroad, never mind lived there - except for my Auntie Norah and Uncle George. They were considered exotic, brave pathfinders into the new world - and they were! What they did was certainly unusual for the time. Although they subsequently lived on a different continent, they always seemed to find time to visit us, as we moved from place to place. Joining us on holidays in Blackpool when I was small, on a road trip to the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas in a camper van when we lived in California; to Montgomery when we lived in Alabama, and to Newcastle when Nick, our son was at university. They also looked after my sister when she was on a scholarship to Canada, and looked after my Mum before and after my Dad’s untimely passing. George particularly endeared himself to our son, Nick. I always remember finding Nick (at 3) sitting on the floor outside the toilet in our house, and, asking him what he was doing there, he simply said he was waiting for Uncle George to come out, so they could carry on playing. In the early 90’s, George played in our Golf Competition in Alabama against the whole class of ’93 at the USAF War College - George and Nick won the competition - to George’s great surprise …. and mischievous delight! Some 6 years later, I also remember stopping George from jumping into a Taxi late at night with Nick to carry on Nick’s 21st celebrations at a night club … at that time, George was 70! More recently, George maintained his sense of humour. He wagered $5 with me, betting that Norah would have dinner ready for us after our late-evening visit to the store - sure enough … she did. During his final battle, he continued to demonstrate his good nature - his light-hearted phrase “I’m worse than Birkenhead, but not as bad as Russia!” captured both his bravery and his humour. Finally, in acknowledgement of the younger generation, he took to “fist bumping” with me. My final memory of George, was that simple act, which summed up his personality …a gentle, genial and sincere man who loved the company of his friends and relations, and always had a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
