Listening

Rainbows in unexpected places

I have a hard time sitting still.  I like to be active, to make the most of the time.  Sometimes, my wife tells me, "You don't listen."  She's right.  It's a fatal flaw of mine.  There are other times when I love to get together with family and listen and enjoy each other's company.  We did that Sunday afternoon.  You know, one of those times that you sit down around the table and just visit.  You stretch a meal out over a couple of hours, just laughing and telling stories.  I love telling and listening to stories.  We did that on Sunday at my sister's house.  We had such a good time, my face hurt from smiling.

Speaking of that, I've got a story for you.  I work for Farm Bureau Insurance as an auto appraiser.  I have a four parish area in which I visit people who have boogered up their vehicles one way or another.  We were recently instructed by the big boss to take the time to listen to people and talk to them.  A lot of our policyholders are older and live in rural areas and are or were involved in agriculture.  I love talking to them.  So many times I get offered coffee or to come inside and have a homemade biscuit just out of the oven.  Some are funny and all are interesting.  Some have dogs that you have to keep your head on a swivel, though.

Last week I arrived to my second stop of the morning at 8 AM.  I had called the afternoon before and had an appointment at 8 sharp.  A woman had run over a stump and messed up the undercarriage of her Lincoln.  I drove down her long driveway bordered by pine trees with black angus cattle grazing on the hills.  Two boxes of bees were on the left just before the cattleguard.  I called from her driveway, "Mrs. So and So, I'm here."  "Well, I'm just putting breakfast on the table.  Won't you come in and join, me?" she said.  "Oh, no ma'am.  I'll just sit out here and do some work in my vehicle until you're done," I said.  "Nonsense," she said, "I'm pouring you a cup of coffee now.  How do you like it, black?"  "Yes, ma'am" and I walked in.  A little lady about 90 years old greeted me.

She was fixing some waffles and was cutting up pecans to put on top before she poured syrup on them.  She poured a cup of strong black coffee in a china cup and saucer and told me to sit down.  She came and joined me and said, "Let's pray."  She said the most beautiful blessing.  I thanked her for that and asked her where she went to church.  She told me at a little Presbyterian church, but there's not many people left.  For Sunday School, they are now doing it online due to the small number of congregants, so some people don't even get together anymore.  She told me she tells the people at her nail shop about Jesus and gives them devotions to read.  We lamented that a lot of young families are missing from churches.

I asked her if she was originally from this area.  No, she said, she was from Morgan City.  Her dad was a boat captain.  When she was a little girl, he took her out of school for six weeks and she road on the paddlewheel boat up the river with him.  They went up the Mississippi River, into the Ohio River and on into West Virginia about as far as the river was navigable.  She was told not to go into the engine room, but did one day.  That's when she got the only whipping that her daddy ever gave her.  Her dad made elaborate kites with streamers and wrote her name "Carol" on the kite.  She flew it off the back of the boat, smiling as the wind blew her kite in the air.  The string broke and Carol the kite flew off out of sight.

She told me her husband to be owned a bunch of land with cattle.  She was sent out by his brother to the land to count cows.  She didn't know anything about cows, but quickly figured out that she was being courted.  They fell in love and got married.  They built fences to keep all their cows in, but the people in the area didn't like fences.  They would drive their sheep from DeRidder to Sulphur and would cut their fences.  At one point a shotgun was brought out to 'entice' the sheep people from cutting any more fences.

The timber companies were clearing the lush pine forests in the area.  They would come through and use dynamite to blow the stumps out of the ground.  The stumps would then be processed to get the resin to make turpentine.  She recalled the excitement of joining them as they threw the dynamite in the hole and ran as fast as they could away as the dynamite blew up, throwing dirt and chunks of wood in the sky.  She laughed as she recalled the thrill and adventure and danger.

I told her that I could go look at the damage to her car whenever she was ready.  Well, it's down the road at the shop, she told me.  I asked her if she'd like to ride with me so she could show me where.  I moved my backpack and clipboard off the seat and she climbed in, telling Sarge, her German Shepherd that she'd be back in a little bit.  We drove along as she pointed out landmarks, where her son raises cattle, where the old home place used to be by the broken down windmill.  We were looking at sights so intently, we missed the turn off and had to turn around.  We drove up to the shop and the proprietor was sitting in front of a fan, drinking coffee.  I knew him.  "Kyle," he exclaimed, "You're driving 'Miss Daisy' today?"  We looked at her Lincoln.  The stump had done a number on it, but I think we can get it put back together.

We drove back to her house and I opened the door and she got out.  "It was a real pleasure to meet you and listen to your stories," I told her.  "She wished me well and told me she enjoyed the company."  I think I noticed that she had a sparkle in her eye from remembering things in her youth and the exciting life she had led.  I drove back down the long winding road back to LA 27, now extremely late for my next two appointments, but happy that I have a job that enables me to visit with interesting people and experience the goodness that is still out there, if you look for it and have the time to listen.