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George Wilson
March 14, 1931 – October 15, 2020


Somewhere along our many miles of travel, George and I were listening to a book that included a reading of Tennyson's poem Crossing the Bar. My wild and loving companion for the last 27 years said, "I want that read when I die." And I promised I would.


Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning at the bar,
When I put out to sea.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home,

George on Aliento pulpit

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

Aliento sunset

George's obituary can be found here.

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