Since I’ve been posting a bit about A River Runs Through It, I figured I’d also add link to George Croonenberghs. If you don’t know who George was, the link below should fill you in (he’s in Norman’s novella, too).
I first met George on-set and immediately liked him (as did everyone else I can think of). He was big, happy, eager, and had a giant box of vintage Montana fly patterns that would make any red-blooded fly angler weep.
After I doubled for the film’s shadow casting scene, George was waiting. He said something to me that was for me only. I’m not going to get into what it was, but it changed my perception of my own life in some ways.
George died more than a decade ago, and sometimes I think about him, and the words he said, and I feel like I want to go back. I can’t, and he can’t come forward, and that’s just the way it is.
George and I did see one another after the film, but I was too busy in my own head to realize the potential friend I had there. That’s a regret that time can’t erase.