In Oysterville c. 1900

In Oysterville, World War Three is almost always just around the corner. Whether it is the color paint being used on a building, the placement of a flowerbed, or the shape and size of signage on a fence, there are differing opinions among us. I imagine it is that way everywhere.

Here, though, with only a dozen of us full-timers, it is likely that we will know (and quickly!) where each of our neighbors stands on any village issue or occurrence. Some, of course, try to maintain silence hoping their unstated thoughts will pass as neutrality. Others are forthright in their opinions from the get-go. Still others wait until they’ve gathered additional information to weigh in, often waiting long enough that their thought are given only in hindsight. And no one of us ever seems to follow a predictable pattern.

Like-minded folks on one issue can disagree vehemently on the next subject of controversy. The voice of reason shifts from one to another depending upon the circumstances and it’s seldom that any single person’s viewpoint aligns perfectly with another’s so establishing a majority opinion about anything is doubtful.

Oysterville Kids c. 1940

I often wonder if it was ever so. I was too young to pay attention when my grandparents’ generation still held sway here. I was aware, vaguely, that some of those who lived here were ‘friends’ and some were ‘neighbors,’ the distinction being that we visited and had the occasional dinner in the homes of the former but, perhaps, just exchanged pleasantries or had various business dealings with the latter.

Whether or not there were controversial village “issues” in those days, I’m not sure. I think it was pretty much a matter of ‘live and let live’ and probably a lot of head-shaking when a neighbor’s innovative idea came to fruition. But, it was definitely before the age of entitlement when everyone felt not only free but obligated to express an opinion… except, perhaps in the privacy of their own homes.

And, of course, it was when people lived here simply because it was home. They had no grandiose plans for changing or improving or micromanaging the status quo. It’s ironic to me that in trying to keep the village ambience of those past generations we run smack into a whole set of problems our forebears would not have recognized. Or would they? Once again, I’d love to travel back in time for an hour or so…