Today, I happened upon Mr. Dan Miller. He was manning a booth at an event in southwest Virginia, sitting among various antique pieces, one of which was a large, wooden bowl, purported to be Indian and more than two-hundred years old. Whether that is genuinely accurate, I cannot say, but there was no doubt about Mr. Dan’s genuineness.
At age 85, the first thing he told me about himself is that he takes no prescription medications and tries to avoid doctors whenever possible. He believes they are only interested in making a profit, and he believes most medications are ruining our immune systems. He also says he doesn’t sanitize. I don’t fully know what that means, and I did not ask any clarifying questions - I was a bit afraid to - but he said when he was in his twenties, he heard a lady speaking about the immune system, and she recommended not washing one’s hands until they stink. “Of course,” Mr. Dan said with a smile, “that depends on what you’ve been handling.”
I did not detect anything unhygienic or malodorous about Mr. Dan, although the cowboy hat he wore looked like it had seen some dirt and dust and history. He explained that he had inherited the hat from the last man whose life he had saved. I was intrigued.
Mr. Dan went on to explain that, before he and his late wife had hit the antique circuit, he had been on the rodeo circuit…as a rodeo clown. I’ve seen rodeo clowns on TV, but I’m pretty sure Mr. Dan is the first one I’ve ever met.
Mr. Dan was born in a rural community near the Missouri River but lived for a good number of years in Texas. It was there he became part of the PRCA, which, he explained to this novice, stands for the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association.
Over a period of time, as he “clowned” to protect bull riders after they had been tossed about like a sack of potatoes and thrown to the ground, Mr. Dan had been gored in the neck and left with bloody hoof prints down his back. His wife, ironically a nurse, would recall with incredulity how he never went to a doctor concerning these wounds - these marks of his trade. Perhaps this was confirmation of Mr. Dan’s medical convictions. Rather, he preferred to rely upon his body’s God-given healing properties.
But then came the day he inherited that hat. The bull rider had been thrown and was on his hands and knees trying to rise to his feet. The bull, with its head down, was charging toward the rider, ready to thrust his horns under the rider’s rib cage. But Mr. Dan, ever the professional rodeo clown and much like a Secret Service Agent protecting the President, dove between them, taking the hit in his hip. In gratitude, the rider had bestowed his hat upon Mr. Dan.
This finally caused Mr. Dan to seek professional medical assistance, and the hip injury led to his retirement from the rodeo. Of course, failing knees had already been pointing him in that direction. He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, and in the rodeo clowning industry, that was serious business. A rodeo clown who can no longer be nimble is not a good thing - not for the clown and not for the rider he’s trying to protect.
So, Mr. Dan and his wife began selling antiques under the name of “Cowboy and The Lady.” After all, Mr. Dan shared, “Once a cowboy, always a cowboy.” But “The Lady” passed away some time ago, and Mr. Dan left the heat of Texas for Arkansas to be nearer to family. But he still drives himself, traveling to various venues across the country.
As I bade Mr. Dan farewell, he reiterated his age and the fact that he took no prescription meds. I told him how remarkable that was and, kiddingly, how I guessed that was due to his not washing his hands until they stank. Still, I shook his hand and we both laughed.
At the beginning of this piece, I said I had “happened upon” Mr. Dan Miller today, but I don’t believe in coincidences. Meeting him was a blessing, and I hope the brief time we spent together was a blessing to him as well.
It cost me $7 to enter this event. I bought nothing, but still walked away with a treasure. It was, perhaps, the best $7 I’ve ever spent.