Just crossed over the Atlantic for the Irish wake of a dear, dear friend, who, many months after his passing, I still cannot understand is no longer here.
At age 83, and counting so many feats (including having interviewed all US presidents since Nixon) he was young like a little boy, my buddy, a fellow fighter. When all else is gone, if the planet is in trouble, we can always turn to George, what does George think, what does George have to say?
American historian and filmmaker George Colburn quietly watched over the planet, and upheld the pillars of integrity, backbone, and ruthless honesty of US journalism.
Now the planet *is* in trouble and there is not a single day I don’t feel the need to call him up “tell me what to do here!’’
George, my buddy, my brother in arms, you left us way too early, but you left so, so much behind. I cross over the Atlantic to come to you, and say in person: I was listening, I watched you carefully. We do miss you so, and I hope I am doing you proud.