While wandering down a dusty country road, a long-past-it’s-prime pickup creaked to a stop. A whiskered but friendly face opened the door. Quickly an explanation was offered that the window would not roll down. It took no more than a cursory look at the truck and its disheveled occupant to tell that other features on the rugged transport were also in the category of broken. But the smile. The smile was real and welcoming. Followed by a handshake of a working man as callused as the ranch hand who offered it. His eyes showed the reddening of his drink of choice, but still, the kindness showed through.
He offered a ride along with his name. I explained that my mission was a walk and he left me with another handshake and a “God bless.” He rolled unceremoniously away exposing the contents of the bed of his truck as a lone bag of feed and a few remnants of barbed wire.
He works between two ranches and lives on one. When his abbreviated commute coincides with my exercise, we visit. Hopefully, we are becoming friends. Recently our family celebrated an early Thanksgiving to allow for busy retail schedules later, and as is the American custom had plenty of food left. We packed up a hearty home-cooked meal and delivered it to his humble dwelling. A travel trailer that probably pre-dates me pulled inside an old hay barn is his home. It’s not fancy or even quaint, but he seems happy and content to reside there. Upon arrival, I found him setting in a simple chair facing the river enjoying the setting of the sun while the Angus cattle in his care graze on the still plentiful green grass. He accepted the food with much gratitude, two handshakes, and at least three more recitals of “God Bless.”
I will withhold his name, but found my self on the journey back home, comparing him to others. Those who, on the surface, have much more to offer and stockpiles of treasures hoarded for their enjoyment alone. But I’m too old and skeptical to buy water from mirages. I can sniff out fake with some certainty and the man behind the smile and beard are not.
Someday soon he will be welcomed into our home for dinner. Not in some benevolent action from us. Not from pity or charity. But because he is a fellow human who is kind and real. Real. That’s a commodity that is about a rare as vegan steak houses in Texas. That’s why I would choose to break bread with him over many men I know of higher stations in life. My new friend makes no pretenses. He isn’t trying to best me or impress me. He has no devious plot to manipulate me for some personal gain. He just sees me as a neighbor and offers what he has. A smile. A handshake. An offer to help. And friendship.
I believe that is plenty.
Think I’ll strive to be more like my new friend. Maybe you can too and we will make our world a kinder neighborhood.