Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories.
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It was sometime in the early 1960s when I first met Bob Wright. A lot of people reading this probably knew Bob since he lived in Marysville for quite some time. He passed away a few years ago, only a day or so before his 101st birthday.
Bob worked in Scotts Research Department in California. He and I, along with a salesman named Bill Conlon, were given the assignment to develop a school in Marysville for Scotts retailers. Both Bob and Bill moved to Marysville, and we all started working together.
Bob was a natural-born teacher. When he stood in front of a class, the students didn’t feel as if he was teaching. It was as if he was having an arm-around-the-shoulder conversation with each person. In all my years of school, in high school and college, and in the Air Force, I don’t think I ever had a more natural teacher than Bob.
He had a wonderful sense of humor, and found ways to work it into every facet of his life. For example, when he was around 96 years old, he bought a new car. I believe it was a Honda Odyssey.
When he got the license plates for the car, he decided to get those vanity plates, you know, the ones that let you put your own message on them. Bob’s plates said, “LAST CAR.” You just can’t help but like a guy like that.
He had a way of working humor into his classes. In effect, he made the whole learning process fun. I’m not talking about having a group of funny stories to tell to every class. Anyone can do that. The thing that made him different was his quick wit and his ability to find humor “in the moment,” both in the classroom and beyond.
For example, it was some time in the late ‘60s, and Bob was sharing an office with a PhD chemist named “Adar” or something like that. I think he immigrated here from India.
One day Bob was alone in the office they shared. He was putting some clippings from a technical publication into a scrapbook he kept near his desk. He had cut out the articles and then used a jar of rubber cement to place them in the book. In the process, he got some rubber cement on one of his hands.
As most of us sometimes do, he rubbed the rubber cement off his hand and into a small pea-sized ball. As he sat there reading the clippings, he rolled that small pliable mass back-and-forth between his thumb and forefinger.
At that point, Adar opened the door and stepped into the office. Bob saw him and said, “Oh, Adar, you are just the guy I need. You are a PhD chemist; can you tell me what this stuff is?” Whereupon he put the small, pliable mass in the palm of Adar’s hand.
Adar examined the material for a few seconds, and squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger. Then he pulled out a strong magnifying lens. He brought the lens up close to his eye and observed the pea-sized mass.
He then put the material directly beneath his nose and sniffed it, looking for any trace of a scent.
He then gave it a taste test by tapping it lightly on the upper surface of his tongue.
Then he looked directly at Bob and asked, “Where did you get this?” Whereupon, Bob shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Oh, it just fell out of my nose.”
You just never knew when Bob Wright would come up with a zinger like that. He was a very funny guy, and I miss him a lot.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at williamboyd514@gmail.com