My Friend George

There are several lists concerning the refrain “You know you're getting old when...” which most of you pholks have seen somewhere or another.

Sorta like a David Letterman's Top Ten gig.

Although I'm a little reluctant to admit it, the time has come for me to realize that I am, indeed, an older person. Senior citizen isn't a term I embrace, or hug, or snuggle with since there doesn't seem to be any solid age prerequisite for society's label.

There are things and events which remind us just how the years sneak up on us. That happened to me a few weeks ago when the pending retirement of the county's top planner, George Finney, came up at a Tulare County Board of Supervisors meeting.

George has been with the county 40 years and the leader of the department, now part of the Resource Management Agency, since 1990. He's stepping down in about two months.

Although he is being considered to head the Local Agency Formation Commission, on a part-time basis, George is hanging it up as a full-time county employee.

I think that's great. He deserves it. Only problem is, George and I were college friends at Fresno State and roommates in Visalia after graduation so that means we both have been working in Visalia for at least 40 years. Senior citizens? Over the hill? Out to pasture?

Heck pholks, it seems like just yesterday that two of my college roommates were fraternity brothers of George. It's a little ironic also that County Supervisor Allen Ishida was a Lamba Chi Alpha brother of George's. Allen pledged the frat during George's senior year. Although George certainly outranks Allen in county seniority, as county supervisor, Ishida is at the top of the county government heap.

George and I have been friends through the four-plus decades although there have been periods where our paths didn't cross often.

But we've kept in touch both professionally and personally. A couple frat parties and apartment complex “get to gathers” can do wonders, in most cases, to cement friendships. And as bachelor roommates, we survived quite a few adventures.

George and I, along with a couple other buddies, shared what I firmly believe to be the most important moments in mankind's history, the moon landing. We barbequed steaks and enjoyed several adult beverages in the backyard of our Demaree Street apartment while watching live TV coverage of “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

A pair of binoculars certainly made the image of the moon bigger but we couldn't quite see the lunar impact when the Apollo crew announced to the world that “the Eagle has landed.”

Being college graduates and all, we of course knew we wouldn't see anything with binoculars but we had to try. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe George, as a “junior planner” for Tulare County, was thinking about how the first humans on the moon should have consulted a planner to figure out plans for lunar populations.

For me it was how to write the perfect “lead” to the biggest news story ever. Honestly, I had thought about that for years. Those thoughts still linger.

George and I became probably the first “official” customers of “The Tapper,” a beer bar on Mooney Boulevard. “The Tapper,” founded and run by Frank Marsh and his son, Jeff, served as Visalia's “Cheers” for many years. Jeff and George were high school buddies and since George and I at that time lived less than two blocks away, it was the perfect place to relax after hard days on the job in our young professional careers.

George was one of the first Visalia owners of a Dodge Charger, just like the one in the epic car chase in the film “Bullitt” where Steve McQueen and his fastback Mustang careened over, around and through the streets of San Francisco.

Now with both of us with 40 plus years under our belts, George and I still believe there is quite a way to go, even though some might smirk and call us Senior Citizens. They should be so lucky.

Miles can be reached at mshuper@valleyvoicenewspaper.com