It was just another winter day on the ranch: plowing snow
with my dad’s John Deere tractor. The weather was sunny, calm, and about 20
degrees—a lovely last day of 2015 in Montana.
It is hardly routine for ranchers to spend an hour or two
with Hollywood actors. So I did not plan to eat my final lunch of the year with
somebody 1000 times more famous than me—according to Google.
Neighbors
As my green machine pushed snow off the road, I passed my
late grandparents’ former home one time after another. They had built it as
their retirement house in the 1970s. I last entered it before they died some 15 years ago, as it has changed hands two
or three times since then.
Our ranch headquarters is three miles to the south, so I knew
of some modifications to the house. But its adjacent 20 acres remained
pristine: an alpine stream, cottonwood trees, evergreens, hills, sagebrush, car-sized
boulders, and mountaintops just eight miles away.
As I drove back and forth, I pondered knocking on my
neighbor’s door. I wanted to say “hi” and see the old house. But I also felt
shy, since we had met only briefly once before. Finally, I talked with God
about it, requesting courage and obedience if He wanted me to make a new
friend.
On my very next pass, I saw my neighbor outside. He flagged
me down to thank me for plowing his driveway. I was at a bridge, so I pulled
over to kick off some snow the plow could not reach. My neighbor asked what I
was doing. When I told him, he jogged the 100 yards or so over to his house,
grabbed two shovels and his four-wheeler, and drove back to help. We started talking.
Outdoors
My neighbor loves being outside. He had been cutting down
dead trees all day. His girlfriend had visited recently. She enjoys running, but
this place was too quiet for her. He joked he might have to find someone else,
but added it is not just her—some of his Hollywood buddies react the same way:
too far from cities, highways, and Wal Mart. For my neighbor, who lives much of
each year in southern California, this place is his refuge.
Wildlife and hunting were among the first topics he probed.
He is wary of mountain lions, bears, and rattlesnakes—as am I. He usually has a
gun on him when he is outside, and like me he would shoot a hostile animal if
necessary.
You just shot your first deer, he asked in disbelief. Yes, I
admitted; most Montanans harvest their first deer before 33. Well, he said, a
friend of his recently had given him some elk steak. Would I like to come inside
and eat some? I thought of the tractor, the house, my unused lunch break, my
prayer—and said yes.
Indoors
As he led me into his house, I was struck by how much I
remembered it—though much had been changed or upgraded. There was the old
“ping-pong table room,” and the old “treadmill room”—wait, no that wall was
knocked out and there was a nice new fireplace! Half of the rock wall was gone,
but lots of nice wood trim had been installed. There was the big stone hearth
next to which my grandparents put their Christmas trees, and the tall picture
windows against which local black bears stood up and stared inside. And there
was the cupboard in which my grandmother’s
never-empty cookie tins were kept. Ginger snaps, little Nikki?
I shared some of this with my neighbor. At 10-20 years my
senior, he seemed as attentive as if it had been his own grandparents’ former
property.
His queries diverted to the steak. Had he never cooked elk
before? Or did he want to make sure I liked the end product? Or did he enjoy
collecting other people’s tips on cooking game? Whatever the case, he basically
had me direct the process. Yes on more seasoning, medium or medium-rare is
great, butter is always a plus…
He gave me a water bottle—then shared his own food tip:
apples and cheese go well together! At last the meat was ready, and we sat on
stools at counters to eat what ended up being a tasty meal.
Movies
If Google is any standard, my neighbor is hardly Hollywood’s
biggest celebrity. But he gave one major name after another as being among his
past colleagues. He respects most of them, whether they are fun, humorous,
intelligent, or hard-working. His most recent movie was with two of the top
actors and directors in recent memory.
I was not interested in asking “What is your favorite
movie?” or “Have you ever met so and so?” However, I could not help feeling
surprised when he said he never watches movies. I assumed he meant he avoids public
theaters or watches less than other filmmakers, but he was unwavering. I saw
some DVDs on a small table across the room. He said someone had left them
there.
Still doubting, I said he must only watch the movies he
makes. Nope: he has not seen any film in years, even his own! He said the experience
of shooting a picture differs so greatly from the final production that he
prefers not to watch them at all. He evinced no bitterness. He simply said how it
was for him. However, he admitted he may amend his policy sometime—because his
girlfriend wants to watch movies with him.
Artists
My neighbor was attracted to the fact that I am a writer. He
asked what most people ask—“What do you write?”—then went deeper. Who do I like
to read? C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, I said, among others. He affirmed them
as superior writers, along with classical authors such as Fyodor Dostoevsky. He
underscored their creative genius, and said we writers can learn from them.
“We writers” has two meanings. First, as an actor, he always
is writing or rewriting scripts, story ideas, or whatever comes to his head.
Second, my current status as a little-known writer appeared irrelevant to him.
His inquiries and tone graciously put us both in the same ballpark as artists.
My afternoon with an actor confirmed my disinterest in People magazine and its ilk. Hollywood
folks do not just make movies, get fat checks, then drive around in sports cars
and hang out with attractive people on beaches all day. Between projects, many
try to get away from the cameras to live a somewhat normal life.
Regarding work, the competition is intense—just like any art—so
to succeed they pour countless hours into their jobs. Yet many people in show
business, including one huge star he named, tend to wonder or even worry about their
next contract. So despite all the red carpet, if not because of it, no artist’s
career carries a lifetime guarantee.
Decisions
Do you like to make movies that merely entertain, or do you
prefer to produce meaningful stories that offer a message? My neighbor engaged
the tough question.
He has made films that earned an income, and he has played
roles that he actually respected. The choice to make a positive impact or not
gnaws at him, but it can be a hard choice. One picture he deeply regrets making
because of its dark content. Such shows probably should not be made, he said, and
in general he wants to move toward more inspiring tales.
What if I set up a $10,000 interview for you on something
you do not believe in, he asked. It was not a retort, but an example of the challenge
in turning down big deals on moral or ethical bases, especially for beginning
artists like me or even well-established, but not top-tier, artists like him.
I concurred regarding subjects of secondary importance, but
not on my core Christian faith. This he respected, adding hints of his own
theology, yet he implied that trust in God often is absent in show business. He
added, or maybe lamented, that movies on God rarely sell in Hollywood.
I asked whether it was easy to talk with his fellow actors
about their work. Honesty is important, he stressed, but criticizing another’s
movies does not really fly in his industry—too many people get hurt. But my
neighbor generally avoids those uncomfortable conversations, since he watches
no movies!
Farewell
It was mid-afternoon. My neighbor walked me outside. We
shook hands and exchanged hopes of meeting again.
He planned to return to California soon. So a few days later
I gave him some of my deer sausage, along with one of my published articles. My
neighbor was all smiles. He promised to try my deer and read my article that night
with his dad. I believed him, but will not ask him about it, in honor of his
Hollywood culture.
