A letter from Icon founder Fred Steiner.
On June 6 a most memorable village personality left us. Bill Garrett, 1968 Bluffton High School graduate and long-time resident of the Riley Street neighborhood, died at Mennonite Memorial Home where he had lived for several years. A memorial service will be set at a later date, and I only learned of his death yesterday.
Bill was a part of the rich fabric of characters who stand out when the roll call of our most interesting residents are celebrated. Although not a village mover or shaker, he was a surprising person of letters, and his interest in world history was outstanding.
For those of us who knew him, much of this is common knowledge. For those who didn’t know him, here’s a glimpse of what you missed.
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As a Bluffton elementary student Bill Garrett knew things about history that absolutely no one his age knew.
Most kids of Bill’s generation were children of WWII parents. Not Bill. His father was a WWI veteran. Because of this, Bill became emersed – better still – absorbed in world events from 1914 to 1918.
In great detail his father had explained to Bill about the trench warfare of WWI, of which he, Ralph Garret, experienced. It’s possible that Ralph may have witnessed Bluffton fellow soldier Casper Herrmann losing his eye to a German bayonet. Bill often recalled these pretty awful front line accounts to friends. They were vivid.
Bill explained to us as third graders “Germany was nearly wiped off the map in WWI.” We had absolutely no idea what he meant. Not the slightest idea. But, Bill understood it.
In fact, it really wasn’t until this writer enrolled in a BGSU modern world history class when this notion was actually explained. Bill understood it as a third grader. And, I’ve not even touched on the fox hole he constructed in his back yard. He was pretty proud of it.
Another of Bill’s early interests included the world of druids and Vikings. He had written several Nordic phrases on his bedroom wall that none of us could decipher. It’s probable he could have written a book about Stonehenge.
In second grade art class he was drawing Viking ships in great detail. Much later in life, members of the class of 1968 learned that grade school art teacher Darvin Luginbuhl kept some of Bill’s drawings because they were something no second grader was thought capable of creating.
Bill’s fascination with religion was another of his historical interest preferences. In it he was well versed.
Recall for a moment your own adolescent years’ search for the meaning and truth about those Sunday school lessons of your earlier youth.
In junior high, Bill was the only classmate we knew who was aware that two conflicting creation stories existed in Genesis. That fact and others he had figured out on his own were his undisputable argument that the Bible was not infallible.
His discourse on this came up sometime in an overnight summer sleepout when junior boys ponder life’s mysteries. In other words, said Bill, one of the creation stories was wrong. We didn’t even know there were two versions.
So, naturally, eventually in life, when we began pondering the truths of Genesis, Bill was already working on the New Testament miracles. Sadly, that conversation with him never took place, though I’d have liked to have heard it.
There’s more to Bill. He pulled his own wisdom tooth. Too bad you missed Bill’s description of this operation. This proved in his mind “who needs a dentist?”
Bill had a down-to-earth-sense of Bluffton humor and carried with him the most peculiar episodes involving other colorful Bluffton residents. His delivery of these sonnets were legendary.
A conversation with Bill on any subject was more than just memorable. Sort of like what you might imagine if you conversed with Ring Lardner while standing in the checkout aisle at Community Market.
No doubt about it, Bill was part of the rich fabric of Bluffton’s greatest personalities. He will be missed and because of his absence, someone will need to patch up that missing part of the quilt called Bluffton.
