Photo: Wade Robertson The media likes to paint the world and especially our country as unsafe and filled with conflict. But my experiences have been completely the opposite, strangers going out of their way to be kind and caring. One such chance encounter ended up with my friend and I eating apple pie and what could be sweeter than that? NEVER STRANGERS Wade Robertson 814-598-4184 We’d risen in the pitch black of the predawn and driven 20 minutes to the area we were hunting that morning, splitting up to cover different areas of the Missouri pasture complex. The eastern sky lightened, turned delicate shades of gold and pink, growing in intensity and glory. The birds burst into song, crows cawed, geese squabble and a bold gobbler sounded off across the ravine. My soul swelled within me, invigorated, inspired by this glorious dawn, the birth of another day I was blessed to participate in. Jim Acker and I heard gobblers that morning, truly the most important part of any spring hunt but couldn’t entice any of the cagey birds within range. We met at noon and related our experiences on the drive back to the small farming community where we were staying, stopping at McDonalds for lunch. Inside overall bibbed farmers were seated in groups, some eating, most just sipping coffee and talking. We nodded and smiled, receiving nods and smiles in return, an occasional “How you boys doing this morning?” A friendly, relaxed hospitality prevailed. While we were eating, a passerby stopped and struck up a conversation. Where were we from, where were we staying, any luck? We invited him to sit and soon we were fast friends. Then, he asked if we’d be eating lunch here tomorrow? We replied we would. His whole face lit up and we were soon informed this gentleman loved to bake and made pies for a local dinner. Did we like peanut butter pie? We assured him, enthusiastically, we did. Glancing at his watch and rising, he informed us he’d return tomorrow. The next day as we finished lunch, he appeared with 2 huge pieces of delicious peanut butter pie! What a considerate thing to do! How thoughtful and kind, to 2 total strangers! The following year, also in Missouri, returning from another hunt, we noticed a gentleman leaving the woods. Curious, we asked what he was doing and were informed he was looking for mushrooms, truffles to be exact. He saw we’d been after gobblers and without hesitation invited us to hunt his property. We couldn’t believe it. He told us to follow him, showed us where to park and pointed out where the birds normally roosted. This type of courtesy was totally unexpected. But he wasn’t finished, inviting us to his home where his mother insisted we try her apple pie. It was fantastic. What wonderful people and even better, I bagged a big gobbler there the next morning. Complete strangers treating us like long lost family. It was Wednesday, on Buckhorn Lake near Peterborough, Ontario. For some inexplicable reason the wind always blew on Wednesdays, every year. Bored of sitting in the cabin, I grabbed my rod and began fishing the shoreline. The wind was so strong it was necessary to cast sidearm, keeping my lure low as the wind was tremendous, occasionally making me stagger against its gusts, waves crashing on the shoreline. I’d worked my way down the docks some distance when a “Hello!” rang out. Turning, a middle-aged man was gesturing for me to come over to his cabin. He introduced himself and invited me inside. A chorus of welcomes greeted me, strapping fellows, very athletic, everyone over 6-feet in height. They were family, owned a roofing business in Toronto and were up for the Canadian Thanksgiving Holiday. The wall to the left of the door was 8-feet high and 10-feet long, stacked from floor to ceiling with cases of beer. Somewhat startled by the sheer quantity of Labatt’s and Molson’s, a quick calculation revealed about 2 cases per man, per day. Wow! But that wasn’t all; numerous bottles of quality wine and pricey whiskey covered a table, another with several large buckets of KFC chicken. A glass of Chivas Regal was thrust into my hand and a plate of chicken set before me. KFC is my favorite. Then the roofing stories began. Narrow escapes, falls, interesting clients, major industrial jobs. Next, we shared fishing and hunting stories, they were especially interested in catching muskellunge. Treated like a king, anything in sight was mine for the asking, amazing. A knock on the door, Dan Kessler and Troy Graham, concerned with my lengthy absence, noticed my pole leaning against the porch during their search. They were immediately invited in and inundated with food and drink. What great people, courteous and kind, intelligent and inquisitive. They called me “Yank.” I loved it. In Namibia, on safari, the guide's extended family stopped by unexpectedly for dinner. Our host, with a smile, informed us that wasn’t unusual at all. My daughter and I were surrounded, introduced, welcomed and immediately treated as if we were family. The warm, friendly atmosphere, holiday-like. Where did we live, did we get snow, was meat expensive, how much was gas and did kids really ride to school on those big yellow buses or was that only in the movies? We were laughing and joking as if we’d known each other for years. What a wonderful experience. Dear readers, traveling around our vast country or visiting other nations I’ve come to discover we all are literally brothers and sisters. That chance meetings with totally unknown people has revealed our shared humanity, kindness and consideration, resulted in new friendships and incredible experiences, as if we’d never been strangers at all.