Friend of Man

Conjunction of the holiday season, a Christmas card and the heavy snow in Ohio -- where I published a string of hometown newspapers for many years -- brings Ollie Saffle to mind.

Good weather and bad, the old gentleman sat on a stool alongside the Seville Highway to Wooster to wave at passing motorists.

Ollie Saffle probably was not his true name, but his Friendly post was near a large, red barn with those words writ large for the world to see. It was such a wonderful identification that I borrowed it for the Roadside character that invariably waved at me and other travelers.

In retrospect, I am sorry I never stopped to pass the time of day with Ollie Saffle. I was always 15 minutes late to where ever I was going.

He wore old-fashion bib overalls and straw hat on warm days. H e changed to overcoat, mittens, boots and wool cap when cold weather arrived. He marked his special spot with a little cairn of stones. Some of us regulars honked back to acknowledge his greeting to a stranger.

My memory takes be back to a day before Christmas when I had what then seemed like urgent business at the county seat. Several inches of snow had fallen the night before, and the Wayne County Road department had cleared the highway.

There was the Ollie Saffle namesake on his stool. Instead of his usual, nondescript wool cap, he wore a red, Santa Claus cap with white trim. A broken pine branch graced the Roadside snow bank thrown up by the county Road plow. As usual, he waved. As usual, I honked this time with a double toot of appreciation.

It was a small gesture that never ag ain came to mind until now. As I review the small memory, the thought triggers a favorite poem. I pass it along as a token of the holiday.

The House by the Side of the Road
By Sam Walter Foss

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content.
There are souls, like stars that swell apart,
In a fellowless firmament.
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran.
But let me live by the side of the Road
And be a Friend to man.

Let me live in a House by the side of the Road
Where the race of men go by
Men who are good and men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorners seat,
Or hurl the cynics ban.
Let me live in a House by the side of the Road
And be a Friend to man.

I see from my House by the side of the Road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor tears
Both parts of an infinite plan.
Let me live in my House by the side of the Road
And be a Friend to man.

Let me live in my House by the side of the Road
Where the race of men go by
They are good, they are bad, they are weak,
They are strong, wise, foolish so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorners seat
Or hurl the cynics ban?
Let me live in my House by the side of the Road
And be a Friend to man.

Lindsey Williams is a Sun columnist who can be contacted at:

LinWms@earthlink.net

LinWms@lindseywilliams.org

Website: http://www.lindseywilliams.org

Author:: Lindsey Williams
Keywords:: Friend, Foss, House, Road, Americana, Christmas
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