Oysterville Schoolhouse, Past and Present

     It’s no secret that I like history.  I read history; I write about history; I talk history.  I realize that not everyone shares my interest, so I try not to foist my thoughts upon all and sundry.  Even so, every once in awhile I run up against a challenge to my incredulity and the resulting disagreeable thoughts that want to bubble forth.  Here is a case in point:
     The other day as I entered a local establishment, I came across an acquaintance thumbing through my new book, Oysterville.  She was looking briefly at the pictures, not stopping long enough to read the text, and she paused to say to me, “All this stuff is dead.  It’s old news.  Just history.”
     “Yes,” I replied.  “It’s an Arcadia publication.  Their books are about history.”
     “Well,” she said, “I have an idea. Are you ready for a new idea?”
     “Sure,” I said, wondering if I really was.
     “What you should do is write a book about Oysterville today.  Now.  The way it is in 2010.”
     “I don’t think Arcadia does contemporary books,” said I.  “And, besides, what would I write about?   The fourteen of us that live in Oysterville?”
     We laughed and paused, each with our own thoughts about contemporary Oysterville.  Mine involved what I might say about today’s village without immediately getting into the “dead stuff” again.  After all, there is a reason that we are a National Historic District, beginning with the number of structures that date back to the pioneer days.  And it would be fun to write about all of us  modern-day ‘characters’ who live here but that would probably be risky business in this day of instant litigation.
     Finally, she said, “Oh you’d find something to say.  You always do.”  And the conversation faded away as she replaced the book on the shelf.
     I found that for once I really didn’t have anything to say.