Blogfinger

Wisdom Bench regulars (from left) Joseph Ruggiero, Joseph Lopez, Dominick Lordi, Anabel “Cuba” Mendez and (standing) Greg Sassone. Photos by Mary Walton. 2012.

By Mary Walton.    Staff.  Blogfinger.net. 2012

You know the place. The wooden bench along the south side of the Camp Meeting Association’s beach office. You’ve seen the guys countless times: a group of seasoned regulars palavering there even in the coldest weather.

They call it The Wisdom Bench.

“That’s Aristotle, that’s Socrates,” says Dave Mitchell with a wave toward the end where Jerry Roman, 73, and Joseph Ruggiero, 89, are seated on cushions from home. And then there’s Mitchell himself, a youngster at 59. “And I’m Confucius.”

“More like confused,” chimes in one of the other wise guys.

Joseph Lopez, 87, says the gathering originated just after World War II at a spot farther south where the gazebo now stands on the border with Bradley Beach. There was a coffee shop there. When it was torn down, they drifted north.

“He’s part Indian,” volunteers one of his buddies. Lopez confirms it. His grandfather was in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, he says. “He did standing-on-a-horse riding tricks. My grandmother was a basket weaver.”

Stick around and you might learn a few things. “We owe our railroads to the Chinese,” says one guy. “And the Irish,” says another. Whereupon a short debate ensues over which ethnicity contributed more to the building of the nation’s railroads.

Someone might sing a portion of a song from the 1930s. Another might identify the artist who made it popular. Mitchell asks advice for a crick in his neck. “Advil,” comes the answer.

Consider this snippet of conversation:

“I had a French car called a Simca.”

“Remember the Mercury Capri?”

“It was made by Ford in Germany.”

“A Citroën — I saw one in town.”

“It was a French car but they went broke.”

“I saw a stretch Checker cab the other day.”

“They were great cars. Big roomy things.”

“Same guy who did the Volkswagen did the Porsche.”

“America had a lot of good cars that went by the wayside.”

In this fashion the conversation rambles for hours. Tom Fuller, 65, who bicycles to the bench, says they often cover the news of the day, even straying onto the treacherous terrain of politics “until it gets too crazy. Then we go back to the weather. You know. We try to keep it positive.”

You might have the impression that women aren’t welcome. Au contraire. Women can sometimes be found on the bench. Says Mitchell, “We’re even in favor of letting them vote.”

From their perch they have seen whales and dolphins, and the occasional osprey, as well as a beached seal and the ensuing rescue attempt. Passers-by stop to chat. Part-time Grover Bob Hogan strolls by with a puppy on a leash. One benchwarmer asks the pup’s name.

“Watson.”

“Watson!” they chorus, delighted.

Next comes the obligatory line: “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

The other day a young woman arrived and passed out cookies. Today Mitchell produces a jar of mixed nuts and doles them out. The guys hold out their caps. Two have caps that say Navy, another NRA.

Here’s a surprise: not all or even most are Grovers. Ruggiero comes from Bradley Beach. Mitchell cycles up from Avon. Dominick Lordi, 69, drives from Shark River Hills. He’d like to live closer to the bench, but “my wife wouldn’t let me move to Ocean Grove because there are no parking places. She’s a nurse and she didn’t want to come home late at night and not be able to park.”

Roman comes all the way from Manasquan. “Where do you sit in Manasquan?” he asks, then answers his own question. “You don’t sit in Manasquan.”

Trading wisdom, Dave Mitchell (left) and Tom Fuller