Bluffoon Philosphy

Those of us who live and work in Bluff are often referred to as Bluffoons by the outside world. As a general principle, Bluffoons have very strong opinions on everything. One bit of Bluffoon philosophy goes something like this, "Life is a never ending struggle to understand the people around you." When it concerns people you don't have to contend with on a regular basis, this struggle may not be a serious issue. Those close to you, however, often create problems.

It is my goal to be loving and caring with everyone I encounter, and usually I can ignore unpleasant situations, comments or misdeeds . I simply shake my head, walk away and exact no consequences. Not so with the folks with whom I regularly associate; especially if I wish to continue that association. Understanding and accepting those around me is essential to my emotional survival. Ignoring the slights of these people and what they are saying and doing, I feel, is flirting with disaster.

When my three children were younger they loved jaw breakers. It wasn't always the hard candy itself that was so desirable, often it was the method of delivery. I remember this huge candy machine at the local grocery store that always drew their attention. The machine consisted of a three foot tall transparent plastic globe crammed full of jaw breakers of every imaginable color. That alone was enough to excite their interest, but there was more. Resting beneath the globe was a clear plastic cabinet packed with gadgets that reminded me of a miniature amusement park.

When a quarter was deposited into the coin box on the side of this contraption, the vending machine began a side show of light and sound which ultimately resulted in a jaw breaker dropping out of the delivery slot. Flashing neon, bells, kazoo noises and the candy itself sliding and spinning it's way through the machine to be delivered to the outstretched hand mesmerized my children. It was no use explaining to them that five individually wrapped jaw breakers could be purchased for the same price at the checkout counter. It was the pomp and circumstance that mattered most to them, not whether the candy had any intrinsic value.

I will never forget the time my youngest child, McKale, was presented with her first black jaw breaker from the Las Vegas inspired device. She popped the candy in her mouth and began to nurse it. It wasn't long before a look of severe distaste appeared on her face. She pursed her lips and spat the offending sweet into a nearby trash can. "Hey," I said "you just wasted a quarter." "It was nasty and look at my mouth," she said, viewing herself in the mirror at the back of the machine. Her mouth and lips were indeed stained ebony, and she was not happy about it.

Not being one to waste an opportunity to treat my children to an object lesson, and realizing McKale would soon be looking for another quarter, I began my discourse. "You know, if that jaw breaker had been a person you wouldn't have given him or her much of a chance to get to know you." McKale gave me that, "What does that have to do with the price of rice in China?" look. She was still eyeing her reflection and groaning. I wasn't sure if her look and moan of frustration was because of her unacceptable appearance and the disagreeable taste in her mouth, or my attempted life lesson.

In truth, the real reason I had mentioned the relationship comparison to McKale was that I was struggling with a certain situation at work. The trading post is a great place to meet people, make friends and become associated with a wide ranging menagerie of personalities. My brother/partner Steve is one of the most unique characters one can be forced to deal with. He is opinionated, contrary, controversial, etc., etc., and I often find myself attempting to smooth over upset feelings and antagonistic occurrences Steve has created. I learned how to deal with him long ago. I know his heart is in the right place, so I gladly do it. This time, however, my problem wasn't Steve.

Years ago I realized that not everyone I met was going to fall in love with me. I also realized that some people are going to misunderstand my singular sense of humor, quick wit and quiet, good natured disposition. On extremely rare occasions Steve has had to step in and reassure certain folks that I really am a great guy. Such is the case with Elsie Holiday. Elsie is one of the most talented Navajo basket weavers ever to pick up an awl and knife. I greatly admire her skills, and am often awed by her creations; I just cannot get along with her when cash management is involved.

Normally, when it comes to the financial affairs of others, I maintain a comfortable distance. Because Elsie weaves baskets that take a great deal of time to create, we are often obliged to advance large sums of cash to get her through the lean times. The rub often occurs when she and I try to work out a reimbursement schedule. Elsie is a passionate and high strung individual when it comes to creating baskets; she weaves only when inspiration strikes and her creative juices are flowing. Unfortunately for me, she displays those same attributes when it comes time to repay her outstanding obligations. It is not that Elsie refuses to pay her bills, it is that she wants to pay them on her own terms. It is for these reasons that Elsie and I have one of the most alarming personality clashes I have had the displeasure to be a part of.

I try, I really do, but to no avail. Long ago Steve and I decided that he would be our representative when dealing with Elsie and her financial obligations. Whenever Elsie walks in the door to attempt a withdrawal or payment, she and I smile sweetly at each other, exchange pleasantries and move to opposite ends of the building. Steve has often tried to mediate our differences, but to no avail. Elsie enjoys the understanding she shares with Steve, and avoids contact with my sour apple attitude whenever possible.

So when McKale disposed of her candy in such a hasty manner, it made me think of my relationship with Elsie. Maybe I had been too quick at disposing of my own "Elsie jaw breaker". I vowed then and there to get past the bad taste and emotional stains of our historical dealings. I would attempt to nurture our relationship through it's disagreeable stage and get down to the sweeter layers, without breaking my jaw or chewing the problem to pieces.

McKale saw my changed attitude and snatched the opportunity. "Dad may I have another quarter? I would like to get to know one of these jaw breakers a little better." I smiled down at my daughter, dug in my pocket and handed her a quarter. McKale dropped the coin into the slot and watched in fascination as the machine pulsed, flashed and sang out in it's melodious fashion. McKale reached up in anticipation of a bright, shiny, colorful jaw breaker. Out of the slot popped a hard, round, black object. McKale was crestfallen. I stooped down, hugged her, took the jaw breaker and popped it in my mouth. I nursed the candy for a few moments and then smiled broadly at my daughter.

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