by Don Childers
Suddenly, Bill’s spirits quickened. Was that a pine tree he just passed? Was there another? And another? It was pine trees! The air flowing in the open windows seemed cooler. As Bill climbed toward Spokane his heart rate increased. This looked more like home, more like the lush beauty of the Willamette Valley. Bill drove on, his spirits higher, past Spokane and crossed the border into Idaho. It was then that he saw it! There stretching out before him was a beautiful lake, nestled between gorgeous mountains. The sun was rapidly slipping into the west, but this was the most beautiful sight Bill had ever seen. He did not know it at the time but he was entering Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. This is where he would spend the night!
Bill took an exit and realized that he was very, very hungry. He spotted a sign that read: “Ted’s Café, Home-cooked Food.” He slowed the Dodge and pulled into the gravel parking lot. Bill actually did not compute that he looked more or less like a hippie. He had trimmed his hair and cut off his beard, but he still retained a nice mustache. His jeans and sandals, striped shirt and vest, and necklace identified him to the patrons as one of those “damn hippies”. When Bill walked in he was aware that all eyes seemed to be looking in his direction. Maybe this was not a good idea, he thought to himself.
Bill sat down in a well-worn, red-leathered booth and opened the menu. He looked up as the waitress brought him some water. She was gorgeous. Tall with blonde hair, her name-tag read: “Sadie”.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Sadie asked with a definite accent. Bill would later learn that it was a Texas accent but at the moment it just sounded strange but nice.
“Water would be just fine,” Bill said, very aware that he was on a tight budget.
“Are y’all ready to order?” Sadie said cheerfully.
“Yeah; I‘ll have a hamburger, fries, well done on the hamburger, and, ahh, onions, no mustard, and a little mayo, if that’s okay?”
“Sure is,” Sadie said, quickly writing down the order. “Say, are you a pro-tes-tor, or sumthin like that?” she asked quietly.
“No, I’m on my way to seminary, in Texas,”
“Texas? That is where I’m from. I come from near Abilene but my folks moved out here when I was a teenager. What is a sem—in—ary?”
“Sorry,” said Bill. “I am going to be a minister and seminary is, well, it is where you learn about the Bible and how to be a minister.”
“You don’t say?” Sadie said with a big smile. She turned to a man behind the counter, dressed in an apron, who Bill assumed was Ted and said louder, “Hey, Ted we got us a preacher-man here. The young man is on his way to Texas to be a preacher!”
“You don’t say,” Ted said in a deep voice. “Well, for a preacher the meal is on the house!”
Bill interrupted, “No, no, that is not necessary.”
Sadie looked at him and said, “No use arguing. Ted used to be a preacher of sorts himself. We’re both Baptists. Nice to meet you!” With that, Sadie turned and gave the order to Ted, who went behind the swinging doors to start the order. For some reason the information that Bill was a preacher caused the conversations in the café to return to normal. Bill guessed that a preacher trumped a hippie, at least at Ted’s.
His meal was one of the best he had ever tasted. Most likely it was because he had basically skipped lunch and was dead tired. It was good, though.
As Bill finished, he reached into his pocket and left a nice tip for his free meal. He got up and thanked both Sadie and Ted.
Ted, grease-covered but with a pleasant smile said, “Say, kid, I don’t mean to butt in, but if you are going to Texas how come you’re up here in Idaho? Your car license says you’re from Oregon. Do you realize Texas is way south of here?”
“I am on my way to meet a friend in Montana. Then we’ll head to Texas.”
“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t lost or sumthin’,” Ted said with a hearty laugh. “Say, I went ahead and cut you a piece of pie.” Ted held out a brown paper sack. “Don’t want you to starve on your way to Texas.”
“Thanks!” Bill said, grinning ear to ear. “You are both so kind. God bless you both!”
“Hope so,” said Ted.
Bill turned to leave, and then paused and turned back. “There is one thing you could help me with. I plan to throw my blanket down and sleep by my car, but I was wondering if there is a good place to do that around here?”
Ted scratched behind his ear and thought for a moment. “Yep, if you drive down this road a little more west, you’ll see a sign that reads ‘KOA Campground’. Just turn in there and tell the guy that Ted sent you. He won’t charge you and will let you bed down there. It’s a lot safer than on the side of the road.”
“Thanks, thanks a lot.” And with that, Bill left Ted’s Café feeling that this was going to be a wonderful adventure. He got into the Dodge, started it up and headed down the road. Within a mile he saw the sign for the KOA campground. It was dark as he turned into the campground. The man at the gate did just as Ted had predicted. When Bill told him, “Ted sent me,” the man just waved him in and told him a good place to camp for the night.
“Ted’s a right good fella,” the man said. Bill just smiled and nodded.
As Bill unrolled his blanket and lay down, he had never seen such a beautiful sight. It seemed like there were millions, no trillions of stars arching across the sky. It was not long before he settled into a deep sleep.
The next morning was spectacular. The sun rose above the mountains and gave the world a fresh look. Bill, sleepy but energized from a good night’s sleep, rose early, just as the sun was peering over the mountains to the east. He rolled up his sleeping bag and ate a quick breakfast of rolls he had purchased the night before. Soon he was driving east toward Montana. As he began the climb over the Rockies his small Dodge struggled. As the altitude increased, Bill began to wonder if the little car would even make it over the Great Divide. Coming up behind the double logging trucks was no problem, since he could not outrun them. The problem was when they came up behind him. Several times he pulled to the side of the road to let the monsters pass.
Finally the little Dodge and Bill were through the worse of it. He left Idaho and entered Montana. Soon the miles drifted behind him and he approached the small town of Red Lodge, where his friends were waiting. It was evening when Bill finally arrived at the home of Paul and his wife Lynn. Red Lodge was a very small town with a rustic flavor, where Paul worked with the Forest Service. Paul and Lynn had moved there after graduation. Lynn had grown up near Billings and wanted to live close to her parents, at least during their first year of marriage. However, for reasons similar to Bill’s, Paul had decided to enter seminary, and so the three friends would make the journey to Fort Worth, Texas, together. When Bill had gotten Paul’s call that he, too, had decided to enter ministry and had at the same time decided on the same graduate school as Bill, it seemed to him to be a miracle. He would be going to school with his best friend.
Paul was shorter than Bill, with a stocky build. His dark skin came from the fact that he was one-quarter Cherokee, something he was very proud of. Lynn was slightly taller, well-proportioned with dark flowing hair. Lynn had grown up in Montana on a ranch and loved both the outdoors and horses. Bill thought that his best friend was the luckiest person on earth to have married someone like Lynn. Bill had been Paul’s best man at the wedding a year ago.
That evening the three ate a hearty dinner of roast beef, boiled potatoes, and green beans followed by Lynn’s famous apple pie. They settled down after dinner to several Coors and swapped stories.
-21-
The next day the three worked finishing packing up the trailer with Paul and Lynn’s furniture. They left a little after noon. That evening, they spent the night with Lynn’s parents in Billings. Bill learned where Lynn had gotten her cooking skills from as her mother treated the family to a feast of baked chicken, roasted potatoes, green beans, salad, and cherry pie for desert.
The morning dawned cloudy. They dined o
n eggs, sausage, biscuits, and coffee. Lynn’s mother made sure that they would not go hungry on the trip. She had prepared sandwiches, chips, several slices of cherry pie, and included a gift of a cooler stocked with soda pop and a few beers for good measure. It was late when the small caravan started their journey for Texas. They planned to camp out along the way.
The first stop was at the Little Bighorn Battlefield Memorial where General Custer had made his infamous last stand. The sun was making its way down behind the horizon when Paul, Lynn, and Bill arrived. The visitor’s center was closed, but the three began walking the battlefield. As the sun set and the lingering shadows grew, the three stared out at the monument where Custer had made his last stand. It was a surreal moment for Bill.
That night they stopped at a Texaco station for gas and the owner invited them to pull their vehicles into the vacant lot next door and camp out. Bill could not remember sleeping so well.
The next day they loaded up and continued the journey. They traveled through the vast lands of Wyoming, through Denver, and on to Kansas where one of Paul’s relatives lived. There they showered, were treated to great Midwestern hospitality and after a good rest, continued on. They skirted the handle of Oklahoma and finally entered Texas. For the three it was as though they had entered another world. Although Paul had lived briefly in Oklahoma when he was very young he had spent most of his life in the West. It seemed that they were indeed strangers in a strange land. That evening the little caravan drove into a West Texas town; the sign read: “Wheeler”. They stopped at a local restaurant. They expected some stares but found none. Men wore western hats and boots, women listened and giggled, and the waitress spoke with a definite Texas drawl.
“What is an enchilada?” Bill inquired.
Paul gave him a quick definition as the waitress approached.
“Can I hep you?” she said with that definite drawl. She was slightly overweight and had blondish hair that was tied in the back with a colorful bow.
Paul ordered for all three. “I think we will each have the three-enchilada dinner. And a beer.”
“Sorry, this is a dry area. We don’t have a liquor license.”
“Oh, then three Cokes!”
The dinner started with a basket of corn tortilla chips and a reddish sauce. The chips and sauce were amazing. So too was the dinner. Paul and Bill had remarked that three enchiladas did not seem like much and maybe they should have ordered more. Their eyes widened as the waitress brought three huge enchiladas, a bowl of refried beans, rice, and more chips.
“We can never eat all this!” Lynn said as she looked around the rustic room.
“We can sure try!” Bill and Paul said together. They all launched into the feast as if they had not eaten for days.
“I wonder where we can stay tonight,” Paul mused.
“I don’t know if these folks will take to a bunch of strangers camping out. We could get a room, but my money is pretty tight.”
“Let’s ask that nice-looking sheriff or marshal over there,” Lynn said, pointing to a tall man who was dressed in a white western shirt, western hat, and bright badge, with a six-shooter strapped around his waist.
“I don’t think so,” Bill said, turning his gaze away from the officer. Too late, he thought. The officer had gotten up from his stool and was sauntering over to them.
“You three from out of town?”
“Yes sir,” Paul answered, quietly.
Lynn smiled and added, “We’re from Montana,” she said. “Bill is from Oregon. He and my husband are going to be studying to be ministers and we’re on our way to Fort Worth so they can start seminary.”
“You don’t say. Well, my name is Henry and I’m the local law around here. Anything you kids need?”
Paul hesitated, but then volunteered, “We could use a place to camp out for the night. Is there any place we can throw some sleeping bags down and get some sleep?”
“Sure is. Just take this road to the north, just out of the parking lot. Go a few miles and you will come to a nice city park. Got a pond, ducks, trees—we’re right proud of it. You can camp out there.”
“Is it safe?” Bill inquired.
“Oh, me and my deputy patrol it several times a night. Mostly we’re looking for lovers and such. I think you’ll be safe. I want to welcome y’all to Texas and I hope you have a safe trip.”
The three looked at each other and smiled. They were going to enjoy Texas!
-22-
It was hot and humid as the three drove into Fort Worth. Auburn Divinity School was actually a part of Southwest Christian University. For decades the seminary had trained ministers from many denominations, offering challenging courses in biblical studies, theology, psychology, social ministry, and the practical aspects of being a pastor. The center of Auburn was a Colonial-style chapel. Southwest Christian University was spread over a wide area and was noted as one of the leading liberal arts universities in the nation.
The seminary had arranged for Paul and Lynn to rent a home nearby. Bill, being single, had been placed in the student housing, a complex of apartments overlooking a pool. The apartments were clean but the complex was from another era. Bill had been assigned to apartment twelve.
The threesome arrived at Paul and Lynn’s home in mid-afternoon. Their house dated from the 1940’s and had two small bedrooms, a small kitchen, a living room and the real plus was a laundry room. Paul backed the trailer up the gravel driveway and the three began to unload the few possessions of the Sinclair household. They would all spend the night there, and then unload Bill’s things in the morning.
The next day, they awoke to the loud rumblings of a Texas thunderstorm and downpour. “What the hell is that?” Bill cried out.
“Thunderstorm,” replied Paul. “I remember them from my days in Oklahoma. We’ll have to get use to them.” A boom shook the house and the rain began pouring down.
Paul thought a moment and added, “Then there are the tornados.”
“Tornados?” both Bill and Lynn said together.
“Yeah, we are now in tornado country. I remember one hit my grandmother’s town once. It looked like someone had taken a sledge hammer to everything.”
“Well, I hope God is on our side,” Bill said as another boom shook the house.
The storm played itself out within an hour and the sunshine returned, and so did the humidity. Bill and Paul went over to the seminary to get Bill moved in and to check things out. They found the apartment complex located just behind the seminary and found apartment twelve. A knock on the door brought them face to face with David. David was lanky, had a full beard, short hair and was dressed in jeans and a shirt that had seen a better day.
“Oh, are you the new roommate?” Dave grunted. Dave White had been a geologist before deciding to enter into ministry. Bill and Dave would become good friends but that would be later. Dave opened the door, grunted and returned to his room. Before entering his room, he pointed to the second bedroom and said, “You can have that one. This one is mine and I would appreciate it if you would keep out.” With that he entered the room and closed the door. Before the door closed, Bill caught a look into the room. There were two beds. Dave’s side looked like a tornado had struck it. In the corner sat a radio set. Dave was a HAM operator and had built the unit himself. Around the room were boxes filled with various parts and other junk. All of this was on one side of the small bedroom.
The other bed was neat, with sheets pulled tight. The dresser was meticulously organized. Bill would later discover that Chris and David were like the “odd couple”; except Dave could not stand Chris and Chris could not stand David.
“Interesting,” Bill said as both he and Paul broke into a silent laugh.
The rest of that day Paul helped Bill get settled. He and Lynn had invited Bill to a home-cooked meal at their home. Bill was grateful that he had his best friend and Lynn as companions. He was beginning to feel lonely. He was beginning to feel like he should reload his car, turn around
and return to Oregon. Having friends would help. It did.
The next day, Bill walked the short distance to the seminary. He had an appointment with a Mr. Scott, who ran the student field service program. Each student was encouraged to work in a church setting during the three-year program. The field service program placed students throughout the area, usually in small congregations that could not afford a full-time pastor. The program provided real experience and students were evaluated on their skills and performance. For Bill a placement was necessary not only for the experience, but for the income. His budget was going to be tight. Even with the scholarship he needed steady income to pay his rent, food, and other costs.
Mr. Scott was tall, over six feet. He wore a blue sports jacket, white shirt, tie, slacks, and polished shoes. He had served as a senior minister in a large congregation for decades. He had been the field service director for several years. It was his job to find a place for each student.
“Come on in,” Mr. Scott said, briefly looking at his notes. You’re Bill Thompson? I’m Harold Scott.”
“Dr. Scott, it is good to meet you,” Bill said extending his hand.
“Just call me Mr. Scott. I don’t have a doctorate, a reality that some here give me a hard time about. I am just a mister, not a doctor. Have a seat.”
Bill sat down. His nervousness was evident.
“How do you like Texas?” Mr. Scott said.
“It’s hot. That storm this morning was something else!”
“Oh, that wasn’t much. That is just part of Texas, especially this time of the year. Now, how do you like your accommodations?”
The small talk went on for some time as they exchanged things like where they were born, what they liked to eat, and so forth. Mr. Scott was pleasant and had the kind of personality that gave permission for a person to share. Bill had the impression, which turned out to be correct, that this was really an interview. It was Mr. Scott’s job to get to know the students and then match them with an appropriate situation. Over the years, he had proven to be good at working to develop young ministers so that by graduation they had the skills to take on a full-time congregation with all of its complications.
