Seat Twelve Belonged to a Cow
At the annual dairy banquet in Stephenville, a heifer wanders in and takes seat twelve, and the seating chart holds firm.
Our annual dairy banquet is held in a converted barn on the edge of Stephenville, with strings of lights, white tablecloths, and a seating chart drawn up by a woman named Verna who takes it very seriously. Verna once moved the county judge to a different table because his boots did not go with the centerpiece. Nobody argues with Verna.
That year, a young heifer named Pearl got out of the back pen during the salad course. We do not know how. Pearl strolled in through the open doors and walked straight to table four, where she found an empty chair between a retired vet and the head of the Farm Bureau chapter. She settled in, and she looked quite comfortable.
The vet said nothing. The Farm Bureau fellow said nothing. I watched Verna from across the room, and I saw her lips move silently as she checked her chart. Then she walked to the table, nodded at Pearl, and said, 'Seat twelve. You must be the late arrival.' She wrote a name tag on the back of a napkin and pinned it to the tablecloth. It said 'Guest of Honor.'
The dinner went on. Pearl was served a plate of salad greens, which she handled well, and she listened to the speeches with real attention. When the keynote speaker said we should all be thinking about the future of dairy, Pearl lowed so politely that the whole room applauded. The speaker thanked her by name. It was the best reception he had had in years.
At the end of the evening, Verna escorted Pearl back to the pen herself, and I am told she refused to let anyone take the chart down for a week. The chart still hangs in the barn with a hoofprint on seat twelve. If you want to plan a gathering with good hospitality, the farm.FM archives are full of notes, and I always say keep the doors latched or leave a chair.