People who only see me at work or church are used to seeing me wear ties. Back in the fall I was at a Union County High School football game. As my nephew and I were planning to sell Italian ice to raise funds for the Union County Lions Club at that game, I was dressed in blue jeans. Hunter Collins, the new band director, commented, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a tie.” I’ve known Hunter for many years through our mutual attendance at the First Baptist Church of Maynardville. Hunter had just never had the opportunity to see me outside of a church service or on a Saturday. Saturdays are what I call my “bumming days”, as I dress like a bum. On the typical Saturday I get straight out of bed, don’t shave, don’t comb my hair (I just throw on a cap), and dress in the most comfortable, ragged clothes I can find. Then I can “lay around” or get as dirty as I want while mowing the yard or piddling at other projects. At some point on most Saturdays I can be found at the Maynardville Post Office, and the ladies who work at 33 Discount Pharmacy and the 33 Diner can testify to my “ragged” (definitely not “rugged”) Saturday look.
Just to set the record straight, no matter the clothes, I am the same person on those Saturdays that I am the other six days of the week. What surprises me is the differences in the way that those who don’t know me perceive me on a Saturday versus the other days of the week. Several years ago, I went to a furniture establishment in Halls on a Saturday. You guessed it, that was definitely one of the ragged days. I was interested in purchasing a secretary (not a living being, rather an inanimate piece of furniture). I think I was with one of my good friends, who was similarly dressed like a bum. I attempted to converse with the salesperson about the cost of a quite handsome secretary. I was given the brush-off, and brain surgeon though I have never been, I knew that she thought that I could not afford to purchase such a fine furnishing for the hovel I habituated.
She was partially right, I suppose. Could I have paid the full price in actual green paper money? No, but I guarantee I probably had more plastic credit to pull from than she. Unfortunately, the poor wretch will never know what a sale she could have made. Unlike Julia Roberts’ character in Pretty Woman (one of my wife’s favorite movies), I did not go back into that store carrying a secretary I had purchased from her competitors. If the salesperson in that establishment had treated everyone as if they had money, regardless of appearance, that business might still be in operation.
I bade my time, and eventually bought an antique secretary many years later for which I probably paid too much. I bought it at a rummage sale, and they don’t typically care at rummage sales what you are dressed like as long as you buy their stuff. I probably wouldn’t be happier with a brand-new secretary than I am with my rummage find. At least I’ve never purchased a brand new one from a snob who judged by my appearance that I couldn’t afford it.
I am reminded of the story of a pastor. A search committee attended a service at the pastor’s church to see if he might be a viable candidate for the committee to consider as their new pastor. The committee was favorably impressed and extended an invitation for the pastor to become a candidate to fill their pulpit. The pastor attended the church who was considering him to be their new pastor. He disguised himself as an obviously very poor, decrepit character wearing smelly rags. Not one soul spoke to or got close to the “bum” before or during the service. During the time of fellowship, no one came to shake his dirty hand.
At the end of the service, when the chairman of the deacons asked if anyone had anything to say, the “bum” stood and walked to the altar. As he spoke to the congregation, he removed his outer, dirty garments, uncovering a fine suit of clothes and revealing his true identity as the preacher the search committee had invited to speak. Not surprisingly, the prospective pastor declined the invitation to pursue the pastorate of such an “elite” congregation.
This story speaks to the old cliché, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” Some of the world’s wealthiest people don’t have two nickels to rub together, and some of the world’s poorest people are millionaires. Some of the most knowledgeable religious people are spiritually blind, “. . . for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (I Samuel 16:7).
Here’s wishing you healthy vision, both inwardly and outwardly, Dear Reader. As the closing song to Hee Haw said, “May your pleasures be many, your troubles be few.”
I close with a few gems from emails I have received.

At age 20, we worry about what others think of us.
At age 40 we don't care what they think of us.
At age 60 we discover they haven't been thinking of us at all.
--Ann Landers

Whatever you may look like, marry a man your own age.
As your beauty fades, so will his eyesight.
-- Phyllis Diller

When I was young, I was called a rugged individualist.
When I was in my fifties, I was considered eccentric.
Here I am doing and saying the same things I did then,
and I'm labelled senile.
--George Burns

Reggie Jackson commenting on Tom Seaver:
"Blind people come to the ballpark just to listen to him pitch.”

Bum Phillips, Oilers coach, on
why he always takes his wife on road trips:
"She's too ugly to kiss goodbye.”

Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any
more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

It takes longer to become good at golf than it does brain surgery.
On the other hand, you seldom get to ride around in a cart,
drink beer and eat hot dogs while performing brain surgery