What Did You Say Your Name Was?
By Hal Haralson, Attorney
Austin, Texas
I was signing books in the Rockdale Public Library on November 18. I had told stories from Gentle Mercies: Stories of Faith in Faded Blue Jeans to six different classes of elementary school children that afternoon.
The children sat in wide-eyed fascination as I told them the "Story of the Double Hearts" and the "Sears and Roebuck Christmas."
Samantha entered the library tugging on her father`s hand. I recognized the beautiful ten-year-old girl from one of the classes.
She wanted a book!
Samantha`s father didn`t look too excited about this transaction. His boots, felt hat and faded jeans indicated that he spent most of his time in a pickup or on a horse. The Rockdale Public Library was not his usual hangout.
After the book was signed, Samantha went to the desk to talk to the librarian.
I struck up a conversation with Samantha`s father and told him I grew up on a ranch in West Texas. I told him the story of Jay Nixon (Gentle Mercies, 73) the cowboy whose prayer was laced with profanity.
He liked that and we both felt comfortable with each other.
Then he told me a story of his own.
"I was foreman on a ranch near Houston owned by Wayne Fisher." (Having practiced law in Texas for 30 years I knew Fisher to be one of the top trial lawyers in the nation.)
"Mr. Fisher was going to a cattle sale to buy a bull and I drove the truck so we could take him back to Fisher`s ranch.
This cattle sale was really high dollar. There were two big tents filled with food and wealthy ranchers. The other tent held the auction ring where a bull had just sold for over $100,000.
I wasn`t dressed for the occasion and headed for the barn. A pot-bellied stove knocked the chill off the air, and I stood warming myself.
A cowboy came up and began warming himself by the fire. His well-worn boots and faded jeans matched the weathered felt hat he was wearing.
He was friendly and asked where I was from
I told him I worked for the Fisher ranch and had driven our truck so we could take the bull back that Mr. Fisher intended to buy.
`How are you?` I replied.
`You come to buy cattle?`
`Nope,` was his taciturn reply, `I live here.`
`Then you must work on this ranch?`
`Well, I guess you could say that. I own it. I didn`t introduce myself. My name is Nolan Ryan.`
`Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ryan. I`m Jonathan Muston.`
We continued talking until it was time to load the truck. Ryan knew his cattle and was obviously a good rancher.
`How long have you had the ranch?`
`Bout five years. Bought it after I retired.`
`What did you do before you retired?`
`I played a little baseball.` Ryan answered.
I told Mr. Fisher about meeting the owner of the ranch. `Man`s name is Nolan Ryan.`
`You don`t know who Nolan Ryan is?`
`Well, I know he`s a rancher with some pretty expensive cattle. I just met him. He seemed like a pretty good ole boy to me.`
Mr. Fisher had a look of surprise on his face. `Nolan Ryan is the most famous living professional baseball player in the world.`
`How about that.` I wasn`t impressed. I`m a cowboy and don`t spend much time reading the sports page. Must have missed him."
Jesus was at home with common folks. He didn`t spend much time trying to impress people.
He stood around a fire with some cussin` fishermen. If he had said, "Peter, I wish you wouldn`t use that kind of language around me," I expect Peter`s reply would have been:"This job don`t pay much and there`s no place to stay. I think I`ll go back to fishing."
Jesus said, "I came to save sinners," so he ran around with tax collectors, prostitutes, and rough talking fishermen.
There was one group of people who didn`t feel comfortable around Jesus. They were Pharisees. The religious leaders of the day. He called them hypocrites.
I expect Jesus would have felt right at home backed up to that pot-bellied stove with Samantha`s father and Nolan Ryan.
