Skin deep or deeper

When we first moved to Scott City, I met an older feller here in town who was pretty rough around the edges. He might have taken a bath once a week, but that was questionable. He pretty much wore the same clothes day after day, so he wore what he was doing and eating out where everyone could see. He liked to chew Days Work chewing tobacco, and he normally had a slight dribble somedays and a river at times running down his chin. He cussed now and then or, more honestly, pretty often. He maybe shaved every week or two or maybe even three. Old Spice aftershave would have been a real plus.

But the thing was, I really liked him. I liked him in spite of all the negative stuff with his appearance and smell and talk. I enjoyed drinking coffee with him and talking gardening or deer hunting or fishing or just sitting with him as the world spun around. There were times when we didn't say a whole lot, but just sat and enjoyed the day and each other's company.

At first sight, many would have been turned off by his appearance and demeanor. Many wouldn't have gotten past the smell and his vocabulary. But the thing was, what you saw and what you heard and what you might have assumed wasn't who the real person was. Now that is sad. When we write someone off because of appearance or such without getting to know them, it's sad.

I grew up on a ranch in the Sandhills of Nebraska and rode horses from the time I could walk, but I was never a rough and tumble cowboy. I never liked a horse that would buck, even though I've ridden a few. I was going to college in Chadron, Nebraska, and needing a part-time job, so talked to a guy, NE of Chadron, about riding some of his horses. He had this one buckskin that had run off with a couple guys who were trying to gentle him down.

Kelly was a good looking line back buckskin, but he had some bad habits. When I was little, Dad showed me how to put a set of draw reins on a horse, so I put these on Kelly. It totally changed the horse. He never once acted like he wanted to run off. That first day, I probably put 10 miles on Kelly. My saddle was a flat pancake Wes Feusner roping saddle with no swells. Kelly's owner was flabbergasted. From what I'd heard, the horse was a lost cause. In reality, Kelly was a really nice horse with bad habits. Sometimes what we've heard isn't always the truth.

So, honestly, what is it that makes one like a person? Back in Bible times, the people chose Saul because he was head and shoulders taller than everyone else. Saul was a big, tall man. They chose him because of looks. It seems like today, mankind seems to go buggy over some rich man or woman who appears to be OK. Some today place those who can act on a pedestal. They may not know a thing, but they can sure act. So what is it that really stands out that causes us to like a person or even look up to them?

With all honesty, I don't know for sure! There seems to be something in me, and I believe it's in everyone, that senses that some people are OK even though everything says they aren't worth a flip. At times, this judgment is almost instantaneous the first time we meet them. But there are times when they kind of grow on us. It's like we sense they are worth spending time with them, and as time passes, we begin to see the real person of worth.

I know I've watched an old dog take to someone, and a stranger no less, and wondered why. For all obvious reasons, the dog should have been afraid, but it wasn't. It was as if the dog had a sense that said they are OK. Maybe a sixth sense, if you will.

There are a couple traits that really stand out to me, with one being they care about me as a person. I'm not just another face in the crowd and a person to sell something to or to get to vote for them or for some other reason. I'm not someone who they glance at and erase me from their memory and life. They treat me special. And by "me," I mean all those people out there who aren't movie stars or rich or people of position. They are just normal plain Dick or Jane people. We've all been around some who have been talking to someone but they are somewhere else. They might be standing right there in front of us, but their mind is somewhere else. The key is to really care for others and not to pretend we care. One cannot pretend real care.

Another thing that stands out to me is to take the time to really care. Nothing shows how little we really care like "meet and greet and so long." Caring takes time. We will never get to meet the real person if we aren't willing to get to know him. We all present a public image, but we hide the real me. It takes time for us to screw up the courage to present the real me with the warts and pigeon toes and bow legs and squinty eyes. Before the virus, many of us walked around with a mask on. It was an invisible mask, which was hiding the real person who was lurking inside us.

Our world today is hungering for people who will take the time to really care.