It is a sleepy lazy Wednesday afternoon in Friendly Manitoba. East of here, the sun is gifting lucky Canucks with a clear sky, and temperatures in the high 80s and low 90s. Here, there are storms building and the temperature is in the upper 40s. A couple of hours ago, we made a run to the library and to pick up some smokes. It is cool enough that all the mosquitoes are in hiding and that surely ain’t a bad thing.

Over the months I’ve been in Friendly Manitoba, I haven’t missed too many opportunities to take a potshot at the unfriendly stiff-necked Mennonites who are as thick around here as ticks on an Ozark hound in July. Every now and again, I may have taken a little literary license and exaggerated just a tad bit, but it was only a tad bit.

Although my rants may be amusing to some, including me every now and then, and they do afford me some stress relief, they are lopsided as all get out.

I met a fellow the other day, I’m not going to bother naming him because a name really doesn’t matter, who is anything but an unfriendly stiff-necked Mennonite. I’m not saying he isn’t a Mennonite; just that he isn’t unfriendly and stiff-necked.

He is a tall slender fellow, not a bad looking guy if you’re into guys and I’m not, with short graying hair, an engaging smile, and well modulated voice with more than a touch of Canadian in his speech. He was wearing slacks and one of those pullover shirts that often have an alligator above the pocket only this one didn’t.

We sat out on the back porch and visited as kamikaze mosquitoes hurled themselves against the screen in vain attempts to reach the tempting targets of opportunity they thought us to be. They managed to dent the screen but were unable to bull their way past it.

There weren’t any world problems solved even though we discussed politics. Since neither of us has a stake in the politics of the other’s country, there was no need for passions to be aroused and there weren’t. We talked of farm work and how he still likes enjoys it and how I’d rather go back to Nam for two more tours than pick up one bale of hay.

We didn’t talk about religion. Instead, we talked about morality, honor, respect, and dealing fairly with others. His hard working farmer parents have to be proud of the son they reared and the values they helped him learn. I’m safe in saying that he is helping his children learn those same values and that is a good thing. I’m certain that sealing a contract with him by shaking hands is a stronger seal than a signature on a piece of paper.

The world really is full of good people. They aren’t confined to one place, one philosophy, one political party, or one way of life. It’s unfortunate that, when we look around, we too often see only the other kind of folk and they really are a minority.

Life is sweet – when you can spend some time with a person of honor.