G is for Redundant. Not really, of course, but since I've already posted on George it feels a little that way...
Whether or not George actually chopped down his father's favorite cherry tree, or admitted doing so, is not absolutely certain, but he was known as an honorable individual and much admired. (He quite obviously has gained the awe and attention of one small girl. Either that or she is horrified by his pruning of one short cherry branch.)
Speaking of cherry branches, I once came very close to gaining the nickname of "George" when as a young teen I climbed the next door cherry tree (likely the one where George acquired his cutting) and found it fun to bounce on one of the large branches. The branch, unaccustomed to bearing the weight of a bouncing fourteen year old, soon gave up and broke. There was a gaping hole on one side of the tree (forever after) and a very embarrassed young lady to answer for it. Later that evening my brother found some fun in referring to me by the name of "George". It was one nickname that wouldn't stick. (Truthfully, I was a little disappointed.)
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