Tink and I have disagreed a couple of times. Not an argument, mind you. But a half-joking, half-serious disagreement.
Upfront, know that it concerns former Beatle George Harrison and his only child, Dhani. We’ll be listening to Beatles music or watching a documentary, and the subject will come up.
The first time it happened was when a newspaper reporter interviewed us for a new television drama about the premier that Tink had written.
“You’ve had an opportunity to work with impressive people,” the reporter stated.
Tink nodded. “I’ve been blessed. I’ve learned from the best.”
Somewhere in this thread of conversation, I inserted, “He even worked with George Harrison’s son, who scored the music for a series he did somewhat recently.
“Oh, yes,” Tink responded. “Hawthorne. With the Smiths.”
I looked at him quizzically. “No, it wasn’t. It was the show you did with Tony Goldwyn.”
For two seconds, we disagreed. Tink was absolutely adamant. I quieted down. Nothing good comes from an argument in front of a reporter.
But I picked up where we left off when she and the photographer left. Tink said firmly – something he rarely does – “I know that the Smiths (Will and Jada) introduced me to him. I’ll bet you.”
“There’s no need to bet. Look it up.”
Tink read the notes on his laptop. His face fell.
“You’re right.”
You might think that was that… but it wasn’t.
Three years later, it happened again while we were watching a Beatles documentary. We had the same disagreement and the same conclusion.
“Why can’t I remember that?” he asked.
That’s just a story to lead into this one: When I was a young woman, barely out of college and working on the NASCAR circuit, I was visiting Darrell and Stevie Waltrip’s house. Darrell, somberly, told of a man who had approached him in the garage and said, “My name is Max Helton. I pastor a church in Florida, but the Lord has sent me to start a ministry here.”
Skeptically but kindly, Darrell replied, “Well, a few have tried that, and it didn’t work.”
I will add that a few, not all, were Elmer Gantry types.
Max explained that it wasn’t his idea — it was God’s. He and his church had fasted and prayed, so he was there to obey the Lord’s command.
We took Max in despite our better judgment. As Max once recalled, there were a dozen of us who started Motor Racing Outreach.
Max proved himself worthy and honorable little by little – so the group grew. I shall never forget the day, a year later, when I looked up at the group after we had just sung “This Is The Day That The Lord Hath Made” and saw Dale Earnhardt in his racing suit. From that day forth, he was always there.
The years they were passed. Max, with a personality as gentle and shimmering as his silver hair, won confidence and then began to move to build MROs on other racing circuits, including Formula One.
I had been out of the sport for years. I was standing at Richard Petty’s motor coach in Atlanta and talking with friends when Max popped up, clearly happy to see me.
“Ronda, could I speak to you for a moment?”
We walked away from the others, and grinning, he said, “Thanks to you, George Harrison found the Lord and now knows Jesus.”
My eyes popped.
“Me??? I don’t even know George Harrison.” At that point, he was gravely ill, death lingering near.
Max, his blue eyes drilled into mine.
“Because you helped start MRO – you made copies of papers we needed and did anything to help – your efforts made it possible for me to go to Monaco, where I met George and witnessed him. I prayed with him.”
Sadly, Harrison and Max have gone from this world, but I love to think they’re together in a much better one.
Ronda Rich is the best-selling author of St. Simons Island: A Stella Bankwell Mystery. Visit www.rondarich.com to sign up for her free newsletter.