nutty

As a kid, I was always curious about the peanut brittle man, but sort of scared. I never worked up the courage to offer much more than a quiet “hello”. Certain groups of older Centralians bought from him sometimes, exchanging money over that old bike of his like it was some sort of illicit drug deal. At other times they’d just stop to chat, offering excuses for why they couldn’t purchase any more at the moment.

He showed up at Priced Right, National, IGA, Dobb’s Bargain City, the dollar store strip mall, K-Mart, Big Lots, Woolworth’s, making his rounds more efficiently and comprehensively than even the Salvation Army bell ringers. One by one the stores changed hands or simply folded to the competition (Wal-Mart), but the peanut brittle man hung around.

Signs began to crop up in the late nineties outside some of the stingier businesses: “No Soliciting – except the peanut brittle man”.

I don’t even know his name or how to go about obtaining that information. I googled him, but to no avail. And obviously some of the businesses don’t know either. It’s gotten to the point where when you open up your own store in Centralia, you’re automatically playing host to the peanut brittle man as well. Same red bike every time, same basket, same labels over plastic baggies of sugary peanut bliss telling the would-be consumer that all proceeds go to benefit some church I otherwise would never have heard of. For all I know, he’s the only member. It’s not a big town.

And that’s the story on that. The local paper did an article on him awhile back. I suppose if I really dug around back home I could find out more.

As far as the reading goes, I’m not finished with the last portrait (Milgaard) yet, but I’m getting there. In regard to the Easy E one, though, 1960’s mental institutions are totally cool in a creepy, haunting way. And for the record, the movie version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest does not even compare to the book. Just saying.