Billy scarcely scraped enough money to buy groceries. He planted tobacco on his three acres by the Ohio River every year without the use of fertilizer. His relatives hoped for a good crop on that land for generations. He lived alone and welcomed my book-selling visit even though he had no money to spare.
Billy dominated the conversation. It appeared that he had saved up his words for weeks. He settled in for a long visit. He insisted that I accompany him to fetch water from a nearby spring and asked me to hold the lantern while he milked his cow in the dimly lit stable. Supper? There was no discussion. I would stay.
Two options were on the menu. One of two hotdogs or a can of Campbell’s baked beans. I chose the beans. Billy place two Jewel Tea Company bonus plates on the table. Spoons looked like Mayflower remnants. Carefully he divided the cold beans. We ate them cheerfully after he said grace. Gracefully I bid Billy farewell as the sun was slipping below the horizon. I was happy that he could feast on the two hotdogs at lunch the next day.
Where was Billy when I visited a wealthy church on my way to Bakersfield, California? After the benediction I lingered in the lobby, sure that some baked-beans philanthropist would invite me to lunch. The lobby quickly emptied. My car was the only one in the parking lot. Alone with an empty stomach I drove to town and ate in a greasy-spoon café.
That day in Glendale the featured speaker was a man who was born without arms. I often wondered if anyone invited him for lunch.
Henri J. M. Nouwen called Christians living reminders of Jesus. You may recall that Jesus invited a whole boat load of disciples to breakfast. What a role model! Billy must have learned his Christianity from the One who had that fish fry by the sea. You could consider that half a can of baked beans insignificant, but just a minute. That feast was in the summer of 1952. It continues to teach me the heart of religion today.