Pappa`s Punishment
By Hal Haralson
Attorney in Austin, Texas
My father was a "horse trader." That means he made his living buying and selling cows, sheep, horses and other "live stock" (generic West-Texas term for domestic animals).
Since he felt strongly about spending time with his children, my brother Dale (2 years younger) and I were taken in the pickup as he bought animals, and to the stock sale in Colorado City on Saturdays.
These excursions began when we were about three or four and continued well into our teen years.
The language of the men at the stock sale was earthy and usually included profanity. When it did my father`s response was, "Please watch your language around my boys."
The profanity stopped because these men respected him and they knew his request was made sincerely.
When we went to buy cattle, "Pappa" would hook the trailer behind the pick-up and we would drive down the dirt roads until we came to a farmhouse.
We pulled in and he knocked on the door. It didn`t matter whether or not he knew the farmer.
"Got anything you want to sell?" and so the "games" began. It might be a horse, a cow and calf, a sow and litter of pigs, or a bull.
It didn`t matter what it was. The farmer set a price and my father tried to get it lowered. If he could make a good trade, the purchase was made. If the farmer kept the price too high, we went on down the road.
Lessons learned:
1. Don`t ever make the first offer. He may not know how much his animal is worth.
2. Don`t hurry. Make your offer and shut up. There`s no pressure like silence. He would kick a rock, or cow chip (if you don`t know what that is…ask someone) for ten minutes while waiting for an answer.
3. Don`t ever make derogatory statements about the other man`s animal.
4. Remember, "Your word is your bond." If you tell a man you will do something…do it. Never go back on your word.
Years later, I would find that I learned more about negotiating with other lawyer`s in
these "horse trading" sessions than in law school.
The cattle that were bought were taken to our farm, unloaded, fed and watered until the sale on Saturday.
Pappa was so good at his craft that he seldom failed to make money on a trade.
On this particular Saturday, we were with Pappa on the catwalk that runs above the cattle. We were in our early teens. Pappa said he was going back into the sale barn and would meet us at the pickup in an hour.
As soon as he left, Dale and I pulled out a chew of Red Tag Tinsley (tobacco), put it in our mouths, and proceeded to walk down the catwalk spitting out on the backs of the cattle, swaggering like two seasoned cowboys.
This was a very "macho" thing to do. It was also a very forbidden thing to do. The use of tobacco in any form at our age was not tolerated.
We were brought up short by the sound of our father`s deep voice, "I`ve changed my mind, we`re going home."
Dale and I stopped dead in our tracks. We could do one of two things.
We could take the chew of tobacco out of our mouths and throw it to the ground. If we did this, Pappa would know and there would be severe punishment because of our transgression.
We chose the alternative. We turned toward our father and as we turned, we swallowed the chew of tobacco.
The result of this action was two very sick boys. Our stomachs reacted in such a way as to cause Pappa to have to stop several times on the way home while we heaved the tobacco and whatever else there was in our upset stomachs.
Pappa told us later that he knew exactly what had happened. There was no need for punishment from him. The consequences of our act were the punishment.
I never was very good at "sinning." I always seemed to get caught. And whether or not I was caught, the consequences of my actions were punishment enough.
I never found out how to outsmart God…or Pappa.
