IMPRESS ME

I was in The Stockman last night. When I walked in, I thought it would be a slow night because there were only two people at the bar; and I didn't know either of them. Both guys were new to town, so the bartender introduced me to them.

One of the guys was your typical cowboy dude who had already had too much to drink. He looked at me sideways. Looked away. Looked back at me. Looked away. Looked back and started to say something. Looked away. Finally said, "Is that thing for real?"

It was going to be a slow night after all.

So we had a good conversation about me, my job, my church, his daughter, the Mormons, some of his thoughts about religion, and we shot a game of pool (which I would've won, but I couldn't ever drop the 9 ball).

But early on in the conversation, after he finally accepted that, yes, the collar was real, and, yes, I really was a priest, he says, "So, Fr. Ref, impress me."

Now there's a statement I haven't ever run into at the bar, or anywhere else for that matter. The guy just says, "Impress me," and sits back and waits for me to say or do something profound. I felt like a contestant on the Jay Leno bit, "Impress Ed Asner."

I'm not sure I impressed him with what I said right then, but I apparently impressed him by 1) being in the bar in the first place, 2) actually drinking a beer, and 3) shooting pool. In other words, I impressed him by being myself.

So let me introduce to you, the beer-swilling, pool-shooting Very Reverend Ref . . .

Or not.

I'll continue to be me. If I don't impress you . . . not my problem.

See you in church.