Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/668677
4 Oil Prophets I recently read an interesting story (now hold on right there. No smart remarks about the country boy reading and how many pictures must have been in the book) that specifically relates to our activities at P&CMA. The name of the book was "The Abilene Paradox," written by Jerry B. Harvey. In the book there was a story of a family living in a small town in Texas (I can relate to those small town folks) and a series of events from one summer afternoon. Here's an excerpt: That July afternoon in Coleman, Texas (population 5,607), was particularly hot – 104 degrees according to the Walgreen's Rexall's thermometer. In addition, the wind was blowing fine-grained West Texas topsoil through the house. But the afternoon was still tolerable – even potentially enjoyable. A fan was stirring the air on the back porch; there was cold lemonade; and finally, there was entertainment. Dominoes. So far, so good. A lot like the association. Everything seems to be going along fine. But the something changes….. All in all, it had the makings of an agreeable Sunday afternoon in Coleman. That is, until my father- in-law suddenly said, "Let's get in the car and go to Abilene and have dinner at the cafeteria." I thought, "What, go to Abilene? Fifty- three miles? In this dust storm and heat? And in an unairconditioned 1958 Buick?" But my wife chimed in with, "Sounds like a great idea. I'd like to go. How about you, Jerry?" Since my own preferences were obviously out of step with the rest, I replied, "Sounds good to me," and added, "I just hope your mother wants to go." "Of course I want to go," said my mother-in-law. "I haven't been to Abilene in a long time." So into the car and off to Abilene we went. Like the family in the story, groups like P&CMA often come to decisions based on the perceived preferences of the "group." But the story continues….. My predictions were fulfilled. The heat was brutal. Perspiration had cemented a fine layer of dust to our skin by the time we arrived. The cafeteria's food could serve as a first- rate prop in an antacid commercial. Some four hours and 106 miles later, we returned to Coleman, hot and exhausted. We silently sat in front of the fan for a long time. Then, to be sociable and to break the silence, I dishonestly said, "It was a great trip, wasn't it?" No one spoke. Finally, my mother-in-law said, with some irritation, "Well, to tell you the truth, I really didn't enjoy it much and would have rather stayed here. I just went along because the three of you were so enthusiastic about going. I wouldn't have gone if you all hadn't pressured me into it." I couldn't believe it. "What do you mean, 'you all'?" I said. "Don't put me in the 'you all' group. I was delighted to be doing what we were doing. I didn't want to go. I only went to satisfy the rest of you. You're the culprits." My wife looked shocked. "Don't call me a culprit. You and Daddy and Mama were the ones who wanted to go. I just went along to keep you happy. I would have had to be crazy to want to go out in the heat like that." Her father entered the conversation with one word: "Shee-it." After the outburst of recrimination, we all sat back in silence. Here we were, four reasonably sensible people who – of our own volition – had just taken a 106-mile trip across a godforsaken desert in furnace- like heat and a dust storm to eat unpalatable food at a hole-in-the-wall cafeteria in Abilene, when none of us had really wanted to go. To be concise, we'd done just the opposite of what we wanted to do. The whole situation simply didn't make sense. CHAIRMAN'S COMMENTS A Trip to Abilene R. Shayne Lord P&CMA Chairman