Had an interesting chat with Old Man Bluffton recently in Twisted Whisk.
He's the guy who sort of runs the town, or thinks he does. After all, it is his town.
Years ago he retired to warmer climes, and shows up in Bluffton announced, usually during the holidays to pick up on gossip and peanut brittle at the Senior Center.
He still think Larry Core is village administrator and I’m not about to straighten him out.
As expected, he did most of the talking, but then, when Old Man Bluffton talks, people listen.
He was totally impressed with the new look on Jefferson Street and West Elm.
“The village fathers of a generation ago didn’t think much of re-planting trees when curbing streets,” he groaned. “It’s great to see treescapes re-emerge on street projects in small towns. It shows that the community wants to be green, despite that ‘green’ seems to be a dirty word in certain segments of American society.”
The Et Cetera Shop’s move really blew him away. “Of course, I always thought the glove factory would make for a great retail outlet,” he said.
“The absent stop light at the corner of Main and College feels like a burr up my *&$,” he muttered between coffee sips, “But, people will catch on to those flashing crosswalks. After all, they work in cities.”
Since the weather cooperated, he even tried out the new pedestrian paths in town.
“People are receptive to these paths, once they see the advantage and safety features,” he preached. “I admire the local outpouring of donations to the project. I really do.” (Being a moderate in politics, he is sympathetic to the hands-off approached the community takes toward government grants.)
“However, get them anyway you can,” he said, while blowing his nose on his sleeve. I’ve noticed as he gets older, his social filters become thinner and thinner.
His only comment on the new restrooms at the Buckeye was, “It took long enough,” he pounded on the table. I didn’t dare say there were still issues.
“And, what’s this license plate fee the town passed? Can’t that Ohio state legislature get up the nerve to raise the gasoline tax? That’s a no-brainer that will never happen so long as those so-called fiscal conservatives are in office,” was his next rant.
I could see his blood pressure rise when we started talking soccer. “What in the world is a private school in Columbus where the so-called tuition is in the $20,00-plus range doing in a Division III boys’ soccer tournament?”
I knew what was coming next: His argument that private schools including the Newark Catholics of sports and the Cleveland-South Euclid and all of Lake Erie School for Sainted “Unrecruited Athletes” belong in a division of their own.
It’s a hopeless world we live in, I thought to myself, as I nodded in agreement.
“When are the owners of that former car wash on East Elm and that old gas station on the other side of 103 going to clean things up?” he wondered aloud. I had no answer to that.
“I’m glad to see that red and white awning on Main Street get replaced. And the blacktopped parking area behind the businesses on the west side of Main are great improvements,” he observed. I couldn’t agree more.
He even commented on the watch your speed signs around town. “Makes you look at your speedometer once in a while,” he chuckled.
"One more thing," he squinted at me, knowing the answer, "The Ream lights going to the top of trees look incrediible. A couple years ago the lights were only about one story high. Whoever was in charge of the chamber at that time ought to be shot." (He knew he was talking about me. So, he sort of took me out behind the woodshed on that one.)
Changing the subject, quickly, I asked him which Christmas Eve service he planned to attend. “I’ll drop in on all of them.” I wondered how, but then, he’s Old Man Bluffton, and he can manage what most of us can only dream of.
“Well, Steiner, nice seeing you again, although I’m sorry that Dick Jordan isn’t here. I miss his observations on, well, practically, all his observations,” he said quietly. I concurred.
“When will you be back in town?” I asked.
“You never know,” he replied. I’m going to visit some friend in those other Bluffton’s. You know, Indiana, South Carolina and elsewhere.
"But, yeah, I’ll be back. Maybe on opening day of the pool. Or, who knows what the BHS boys’ basketball team will do in the tournaments. You may see me then.”
“I hope I do. That would be fantastic,” I replied, as he picked up the tab and headed out the door.
