From The Storyteller
|
Good Hand
It was a nasty January day. The blowing snow was the heavy, wet kind. The wind blew with a bite out of the North. And as always happens in this kind of weather, we’re low on gas. The place is Quanah, Texas, which is a farm/ranch community of 2200 at the foot of the Texas Panhandle. It’s a place where more than a few men really do wear spurs to work, ”yes mam” and “no sir” are heard often, and the term “ranch values” is understood by all who live there. This was before “pay at the pump” and, when it came to filling the gas tank, Elaine and I shared duties. I pumped the gas and went inside to pay the bill, and she checked the oil and cleaned the glass - if needed. That day she had drawn the tough card because the windshield really needed to be cleaned, and she was out in that blizzard working on it while I went inside to pay. As I was headed back out into the storm, the young boy, who worked there, was standing by the door staring out at Elaine cleaning the glass in all that nasty weather. I stopped next to him and together we watched her for another few seconds. At that point he turned to me and, with just two words, gave Elaine the highest compliment he knew. His words “She’s a good hand.” Then he turned without saying another word and went back to stocking shelves. Moral: How we view others depends on what we value. |