Driftwood Gallery in Euclid was in business for 57 years before closing in 2018.
Owner Jon Boyton was a self-proclaimed “framing whore” and every time I walked in with a few things under my arm, he couldn’t wait to see what I had.
I brought him unique items that needed to be preserved. Jon snatched the 1965 yellow metal license plate from Okinawa . . . and then he eagerly grabbed two small rocks that I pocketed from Shuri Castle, along with my castle tour ticket from the 2006 Kubasaki High reunion trip. Jon was all for preserving memories. If there was a faded old family photo that had writing on the back identifying the people in the photograph, he made a photocopy and pasted it on the back. Jon and I shared a philosophy about preserving things for posterity.
His prices were reasonable, and it got to the point where all I said was, “Make it pretty!”
Jon wanted to see his customers keep coming back.
With a background in art history and design, he always selected the perfect molding and coordinated it with the perfect mat. All I had to do was hand it over and trust his judgment.
“My dad ran the place before I took over. I learned this business from him,” said Jon.
Each time I visited I would admire a large Asian embroidered panel that was waiting to be picked up. One day I asked Jon, “That’s still waiting for pickup?”
The next time I stopped by Jon loaded it into my Honda Element, “I don’t know what happened to that customer. I left many messages about picking up the piece. If they ever come back to claim it, I’ll tell them it’s in storage and I’ll give you a call.”
We had a good laugh over that. The item that I admired for so long now hangs on the wall of our dining room. At least I appreciate it—and as far as I’m concerned, it’s mine.
When Jon retired, he handed over the reins to his grandson and things were never the same. Driftwood Gallery relocated under a new name and then closed temporarily, and the grandson talked about maybe reopening. I was willing to give him my business. Now I have no framer.
And lucky for me that husband Don was busy at work all day. “Frugal Fred Mertz” never questioned my frequent trips to Driftwood.
