Dear George,

††††††††† Iíve written before and again want to tell you how thoroughly I enjoy your journal and gracious, eloquent writing style. It was not taught, it was a gift, and thank you for sharing it so freely with countless, silent admirers. Itís just like being there, George. Make a hard copy of your writings for your kids. They again will walk your walks, see what your eyes have seen, hear what your ears have heard, feel the warmth of the summer Keenenaw sun, smell Octoberís fallen leaves, experience the biting sting of a Grande Superior winter gale, the sound echoing across the harbor from the crunch of ice and crusty snow under foot, and feel the love of and respect for the Harbor and Lake you so dearly love. It is ever present in your musings.


You are a lost breed of hearty sole, a man who lives comfortable with the company of his own thoughts through long Keewenaw winters and too short summers on the Peregrine. Put into port, hook up to the web, and take us aboard next summer, George. Wed really enjoy that Georgeís Superior Adventure with the water, the waves, the storm, the calm, the stars, and the ports of call. Include a picture off the Bow (rather than out the front window) for those of us who may never experience the sight of it. As ports of call are your destination, you are our destination for such grand adventure.


Your latest musing mentioned a Bach Cantata accompanied by a crackling wood fire and a refreshing glass of good-vintage wine. You have a great appreciation for music. Throw on another log, George, open a bottle of adult beverage, prop your feet up, close your eyes, and let this pianist carry you away expressed in sound as you so freely carry us to the Harbor in words. I am recording myself for posterity for my 4 children that they one day may again hear Dad when Dad is no longer here to hear. I majored in piano at Ohioís Bowling Green State Universityís School of Performing Arts, class of 1968. Look up my teacher, Jerome Rose, a concert artist to this day I was never destined to become. You would love his Liszt, Chopin, Brahms, and others. I will retire as a band director from the same public school system with 40 years of service in June 2008.


Though you may sometimes feel alone with so few braving the harbor winter, many are with you in thought and as close beside as the Harbor Web Page. Stay in touch, your reach is far flung. You know not where the words flung from your quiver may land, how far they journey across this great land of ours, nor how deep they penetrate into the very hearts of those who enjoy their sting, along with a glass of good-vintage wine and a crackling wood fire.. Cheers, George.


Charlie Gross††† December 5, 2008