GG Anderson

Jack Anderson dug for opal for forty years, a trade for men who can treat a barren season as an ordinary one. He plays the same way. Once a month he sits down after dinner and is still there at six the following morning, doubling into anything that moves, cheerfully underwater and then cheerfully not, and then he is gone until the next one. Nobody has ever talked him into a quiet Tuesday. He maintains that a session is either worth the whole night or is not worth starting, which is the exact reasoning that kept him digging one more shaft for four decades. Once a month the cash tables get the whole night, same as the shaft used to, and he never once regrets the ones that ran until six.