George
November 4th 2007 11:34
George - (60-70)
I would have to say he is my friend more so than a customer of the wine shop I work at. Over the summer I will extend on lots of the strange, funny and lovely people I meet from this place as I feel there is such a range of people with such different stories.
George is wrinkled to the core.
He has yellow teeth rotted to oblivion.
His eyes are constantly bloodshot.
He is always shaking.
He is skinny and fragile and I really can not tell if the drink has aged him or if he is just aged.
So every day he comes in before he goes to his little cafe pack up job and grabs two Carlton Draughts for close time.
He could be seen as an alcoholic and a danger from the outside but I know his heart, his soul and his kindness. He means no harm to anyone and really he just seems to love his funny little simple life. He lives on his boat and has no family around him. Sometimes I'm sure I'm the only person he gets to chat to in his day and I really do not mind having that role.
His life was spent at Luna Park as he ran the place for 25 years. That was his place... his home.. and where he knows he had a significant role to play. The constant talk and stories that come from his Luna Park days shows how much it means to him.
He also has children and grandchildren that he treasures but they all live in Melbourne. The recent count is 6 grandchildren. I never ask about his wife, or his children unless he talks about his family first but somehow I think that is a raw nerve to touch. I question if has chosen a life away from his family or if that life chose him. Or more so maybe the drink chose him and he chose the drink.
The other day he came and gave me a kiss and went on to talk about his benders the last three nights, and yes this was a Wednesday. 'I went up to Crump's and he poured me a wine... then from there we moved onto the Bourbon... It just got worse from there my luv!' It was almost as if I was comparing stories with a friend, a 20 year old friend, bragging about their drunken behaviour. The exterior seemed irrelevant when the topic of conversation was the same. Sometimes I don't know whether to take George's life as him wanting to do whatever he wants and he is happy and content or if I should be sad for how he has turned out.
I know I don't know the whole story but I do know him as a person and as much as he would say and show me he is happy, I know deep down he has some regrets, some pains and some remorse.
When George comes into the shop most times he will be whistling to his own little tune. A happy whistle. It makes me believe he is happy in his own drunken splendor and we should accept that. Your text goes here
I would have to say he is my friend more so than a customer of the wine shop I work at. Over the summer I will extend on lots of the strange, funny and lovely people I meet from this place as I feel there is such a range of people with such different stories.
George is wrinkled to the core.
He has yellow teeth rotted to oblivion.
His eyes are constantly bloodshot.
He is always shaking.
He is skinny and fragile and I really can not tell if the drink has aged him or if he is just aged.
So every day he comes in before he goes to his little cafe pack up job and grabs two Carlton Draughts for close time.
His life was spent at Luna Park as he ran the place for 25 years. That was his place... his home.. and where he knows he had a significant role to play. The constant talk and stories that come from his Luna Park days shows how much it means to him.
He also has children and grandchildren that he treasures but they all live in Melbourne. The recent count is 6 grandchildren. I never ask about his wife, or his children unless he talks about his family first but somehow I think that is a raw nerve to touch. I question if has chosen a life away from his family or if that life chose him. Or more so maybe the drink chose him and he chose the drink.
The other day he came and gave me a kiss and went on to talk about his benders the last three nights, and yes this was a Wednesday. 'I went up to Crump's and he poured me a wine... then from there we moved onto the Bourbon... It just got worse from there my luv!' It was almost as if I was comparing stories with a friend, a 20 year old friend, bragging about their drunken behaviour. The exterior seemed irrelevant when the topic of conversation was the same. Sometimes I don't know whether to take George's life as him wanting to do whatever he wants and he is happy and content or if I should be sad for how he has turned out.
When George comes into the shop most times he will be whistling to his own little tune. A happy whistle. It makes me believe he is happy in his own drunken splendor and we should accept that. Your text goes here
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Comment by What's Your Story?
What's Your Story?
Big Day Plunge
Comment by Anonymous
People just seem to talk to me, not even thinking they are important in the scheme of things.. but I feel they are. I'm glad you agree...