Kindness goes a long way…between cultures. At my local pub today, an egyptian couple, who spoke little english, and had never been to a beer burger joint, comes in and asked: what’s good…

“You want something outside the bubble? One hoppy IPA coming up, and some sweet potato fries, i’ll even throw in some jambalaya and crawfish!”… JV (he tells me the name stands for Junior Varsity, cause he never made the varsity team in life) the owner and general father figure of the place since 1971, made these people feel comfortable even if they didn’t speak English, and hadn’t had a burger before. Kindness translates.

Today our local pub boss, was talking to an Egyptian couple who had never ordered cheeseburgers. He made them feel welcome, and described the difference between a regular burger and a cheeseburger without being condescending. (It’s mainly about the cheese!). A retired Waco sheriff, He’s been working burgers since the 60’s but broke it down in understandable terms to this lovely couple, in a way which was not only condescending or cynical, but made them excited to try Wagu burgers at a local pub. “Well, do you like cheese, if so I’d go with the cheese burger friends.”

When they asked for a beer, he looked back at the wall which has around 30 types (mostly local) Instead of being a beer snob about it, old JV said…”well, do you like em light or dark, up or down, thin or tall. You like hoppy or bodied. I got just the one for you. Try this….he brings out a good local IPA. The girl’s smile, as she took her first sip, was worth my whole day. It made her so happy that someone would make them feel welcome and help them navigate Texas culture.

JV, self confessedly speaks, southernese—a rare west Texas dialect version. And calls his place more a tavern than beer joint. “I like to think we have an invisible fireplace someplace in here; people feel hearth when they need to.” But both apply, and it has that kind of neon-beer-sign lit ambiance which holds memory and people’s names over time on small brass plaques. Some even on the wall, as well as several presidents who dropped in for a beer and burger. It’s a type of community really, with a built in sense of belonging. A sort of pub church. And as there are two seminaries nearby, often it feels just like church, but without the formality.

We’ve gotten to know one another over the years. He’s quick with a joke and has enough one liners and tales to fill several books. But the main thing he’s got is kindness to strangers, which, at the end of the day, we all are. “I’ve never understood racism, as we are all mutts here, and everyone needs to eat and talk from time to time.”

Several of the regular patrons of this pub have died over the years I’ve been coming here. There are plaques on the wall for each, with little stories about what they loved much, and what food they tended to order, or their favorite beer. “Walt loved softball, shiner beer and blues, and never missed a Sunday here.” People need places where their names and stories matter, and are still remembered somewhere, even beer joints can form and hold community over time. Maybe especially, places like this.

Last week’s JV story was about a pig which got hit on the highway up near Waco. The pig ended up landing in a poor man’s front yard. The poor fellow comes out, and sees dinner sitting there on his front yard; but the fellow who hit it wanted to take it home. So they called the local sheriff to decipher the matter. She was a short mexican lady, and suggested that they cut it down the middle, so both could have some; or they could take it down to the local homeless shelter and share it with others. Immediately the poor fellow opted for the shelter. So she knew he was the one who really needed the pig, and had a heart to share it. She also knew that he ate at the homeless shelter. Sort of a Solomon moment.

One day, JV said to me, “You been married along while, so she don’t mind you peeing in the yard, but gotta keep that toilet working in the house. Gotta keep the lady happy. Marriage is constant investment, but the dividends are eternal. And in the meantime, you got a yard to pee in.”

JV also calls everyone brother or sister as they leave, and was the first to start calling me “Big D” after Dallas, when i first moved back here to Austin, Texas. Made me feel respected and a type of Texas belonging. He still calls me Big D even on days I feel very lower case in myself. Kindness is longer than a Texas mile, at the end of each day.

Today as I left, JV promised to “keep the light on, and the fly swatter readied.” My kinda pub. All spaces are metaphors or stages through which to exchange the restoration of humanity through kindness, at the end of the day, we are just people trying to be people. It helps when someone in charge is kind though. It ushers in grace. And that place is made of Grace.