Dana, I'm sure you don't remembr me (it's only been 50 years!!) but I met you and your parents when I was George's roommate at UT's Moore-Hill Hall. I was a student manager for four years and was the head manager of the national championship team. I couldn't have asked for a better roommate. He was a groomsman in my wedding. I'm sorry I lost track of him several years ago and am so sorry to learn of his illness. I lost both parents and both of my wife's parents to Alzheimer's so I understand your despair. It was clear he loved you because he was always talking about you! Looking back, George was probably one of the few "jocks" who wouldn't resent assigned to room with a lowly student manager! He was brilliant but rarely studied, instead playing stupid games with a group of 6-7 non-jocks. He was always the best, no matter what. One of the games we played was "baseball" in the hall, using a ping pong ball and a broken golf club handle. Each pitch looked like a Hoyt Wilhelm knuckleball with strikeouts much more prevalent than hits. Except George. He had such tremendous hand-eye coordination that he smashed the ball -- sometimes breaking it -- on the first pitch. I thought of him several years ago when I read about schoolboy slugger Bryce Harper and how his father had pitched increasingly smaller objects to him to hone his hand-eye coordination. We non-jocks would come up with all kinds of games and practice them for days before inviting George to join in (things like throwing quarters in a coffee can from across the dorm room, or pitching playing cards at a hat, or throwing a shuttlecock at a little wastebasket basketball goal. ) George ALWAYS won. It was uncanny. When he became bored with our lack of competition, he'd suddenly announced, "Okay, everybody out. I've got a quiz tomorrow." After locking the door he would pull out his guitar and play for hours. I would usually fall asleep to his music. I don't know if he crammed the rest of the night or even studied at all. One night we were stupidly playing like we were men of the cloth. We put white shirts on backwards, added a black pullover sweater and black blazer and were generally flirting with being struck by lightning. Then George suggested we go to the Pancake House on the Drag -- in our ministerial roles. We were sitting at a table calling each other Father so and So, when George suddenly stood up and announced to the stunned late night customers that he would like to give a blessing to all the customers. While the rest of us bit our lips to keep from laughing out loud he proceeded to throw together a stream of Latin words and phrases that made absolutely no sense (I took 3 semesters of Latin to avoid 2 semesters of math!) but sounded very impressive. Then we followed Father George out of the restaurant to a bunch of "bless you's" and "thank you, Father's."
I regret that we had not stayed in touch. God bless you.