A Penny And A Dime

For a man who never darkened the doors of a church building, I have never met anyone more biblically moral. Certainly, no theologian and often frustrated by the men of organized religion, he retreated from the business dealings and social dwellings of commingling among them. There is irony in his story. Bitterness at the church, perhaps, but God-honoring in the way he lived. High strung, yet easy going. Eccentric, yet well respected. Long suffering, yet charitable… in private. I learned much from him, but he always told me, “If you are able, give what you have if they need it, but do it quietly.”

And so, I do. The cattle deal has been wild. Certainly, you don’t have to be in the business to have known, heard or been affected somewhere in the chain by the record high prices. Gloriously dangerous is how I describe it. As a “yearlin’ man,” I live with the reputation of being a gambler, I am no stranger to risk but as the years go by I find myself finding fondness in stability.

That stability has failed to find me this year. With some years of experience behind me, I find myself taking fewer chances which makes me a hedger. That basically means that I set the price that I will receive for my cattle in a time period before a date that I am willing to deliver them to market. It is a marketing strategy that reduces risk from the bottom side. In other words, protection from the cash market going down but also delineates market capture to the top side. It is price setting with the understanding that if the market goes down, the futures will provide the lost opportunity cost back to me. However, if they accelerate I provide the lost opportunity cost back to the futures market.

Margin calls.

In 2024 I hedged my yearlings at the highest level in the history of my business and called it a “good hedge.” So, when I hedged in 2025 at twenty dollars higher I was ecstatic! The patriarch of our operation would never believe these price levels! I didn’t, however, expect the market to continue to rise to levels sixty dollars more with no end in sight. The result of this is a whole lot of “margin calls” and “lost opportunity” costs coming out of my pocket. Again, as a risk taker and a yearlin’ man I accept that challenge and understand the consequences fully. To make a long story short, margin calls in the last two months have scared the devil out of me. Needless to say, my attitude is a bit volatile.

Perspective and perception.

Yesterday, my son and I took our pickup to the shop in a nearby town. Beforehand, he asked if we could run by the store and get a taco, which we did. As we entered the door, a young gentleman caught my eye sitting at the table closest to the exit. He stood out because he was wearing a heavy Carhart jacket while it was 103 degrees outside. I immediately noticed that he was mired in filth. His hair was long and matted, his clothes were grungy, and his skin was stained. It was obvious that he has spent a lot of time in the sun, wind and grime of life. To say the least, he looked downtrodden and seemed to lack the confidence to even look up or forward. His loss of hope permeated deep, even though I couldn’t see his eyes. Whatever life he had left was hanging on by a thread.

While my son and I happily ate our tacos, I often glanced over to observe this young man. I wondered what his story was and why, in the middle of the day, would he be sitting in Taco Casa instead of at some sort of job. It didn’t matter. Through the time we sat there he never once looked up, only down in an attempt to not be noticed and avoid conversation. Something in me tugged at my heart strings, and for Beatty it was a time of gratitude. “Dad, I am so thankful for our food.” So was I.

My chest hurt, my gut ached and my emotions ran amuck while I sat in the happiness of my son. There was a definitive line a delineation embracing me, hope versus no hope. Beyond his past and in the present I could only surmise that he was hungry. So, as I got up to throw my trash away I asked the young lady at the counter if this gentleman had eaten. She shook her head, “yes, he had one taco.” During my conversation with her, I glanced over to see his palm wide open counting his change. It was as if he was hoping for extra but knew the reality. A penny and a dime. That’s it. In the chaos of his table which was one taco wrapper, his untamed hair, and a plastic bag I felt that it was a small synopsis of his life. Was whatever that lead to this moment as disorganized, disheveled, and soiled as it seemed? I hope not.

I had already purchased an extra bag of six tacos to take home to my wife for supper. Normally she only eats two, but I thought I should throw a few extra in for my sons lunch the following day. So, as I slowly eased toward the exit he flinched a bit when I put my hand on his shoulder, leaned down and said, “are you hungry sir?” Without raising his head or looking at me he quickly muttered “yes.” I slipped him four of the six tacos. He was quiet, and without a positive reaction he very humbly shook his head yes.

As we loaded in the pickup, my son was a bit shaky. He said, “dad, what is wrong with that guy.” I told him that sometimes life tests us and some of us are luckier than others and that none of us are immune to trial and tribulation. I found my stash of cash and handed my son some and asked him to take it in to that young gentleman. He was flushed and a look of fear came over his face so I said, “come on, we will do it together,” I folded the bill up tightly, walked in the door and slid it in his hand. He never looked up, never said a word and neither did I. As it should be.

As we were driving out of the parking lot, my son told me how thankful he was for his mother and I and that he appreciated our home and the food we had to eat. With that, the surge of emotions came to a head and, admittedly, I shed a few tears as my son looked out the window. Both of us thankful as we continued through our day, ever so often thinking back on that long and matted hair wiping itself across the same table he was eating at, realizing I never got a glimpse of his face.

God has a way of keeping us humble doesn’t he? Just a few hours earlier in the day I was upset, short tempered and emotionally drained from the continued texts I was getting from my broker for more margin money. Day after day margin calls have been drawn from the bank and deposited in Chicago. Many cattlemen and women are in the exact same position and it is not fun, but when I open my palm, so to speak, I don’t have to wonder where my next taco or margin call is coming from.

My dad always told me to “give quietly” and go about my business. And so, I do, except that in this story perspective met me at Taco Casa in Graham, Texas wrapped in a Carhart jacket in 103-degree heat.