If these stories aren’t told right
George Olsen passed away Saturday night. The following story includes an interview with Olsen in 2014, and is running this week in honor and celebration of his memory.
The Olsen’s home is across from the new elementary school built just above Main Street. If you follow the road down its steep decline, you’ll reach the harbor where the docks are lined with fishing boats and the gulls squawk mercilessly lured to the salty stench of the day’s catch being hauled in. The fishermen, he says, are worried about next year’s salmon runs with the low water levels. He used to be one. A fisherman, that is. “Was your father a fisherman too?” I ask. He scrunches his brow and cocks his head ever so slightly, staring at me as if I had just asked him whether the ocean was filled with water. “Of course,” he enunciates, making clear the stupidity in asking such a question. >click to read< 11:16
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