My wife and I were enjoying a long weekend in the Apalachicola area of the Florida panhandle.  We had flown from Atlanta to PanamaCity, rented a car and drove east past Port St. Joe to the liffle rental cottage by the sea.

Saturday afternoon we drove over to the nearby village of Carrabelle where a street festival and fishing tournament were in progress. Venders in their mobile units were selling smoked mullet, barbecue, hot dogs, cold beer and other such fare.  We sampled several of them.

Later on that evening we had dinner in Apalachicola.On our way back to the cottage, we stopped at several curb markets looking for lottery tickets, which we eventually found. The jackpot that night was about one hundred million.

When we reached our cottage, I realized that my wallet was missing. We looked everywhere in the car and in everything in the car, but it wasn't there.

Fortunately, I had taken my money out of it in Carrabelle. However, my driver's license, a couple of credit cards, my insurance card, and some other items were still in the wallet.

I immediately drove back to the restaurant in Apalachicola. The wallet had not been found. I then went to the curb market where we bought lottery tickets.  It was not there either. It was too late to go back to Carrabelle; the festival had probably concluded for the night. So I accepted the fact that my wallet was gone.  I did have my money and I would call the credit card companies to report the losses.  I would get another driver's license, which I really wanted anyway, because my picture on it was awful - again.

Next morning we headed home. We drove back to the Panama City airport, checked in for our flight and situated ourselves in the small and crowded waiting room. While there, I remembered the name of the barbeque restaurant that was catering the Carrabelle festival. The public phone was right there where we were sitting. So I called information, got the number, and called them up.

I explained to them why I was calling and they said it had not been turned in.  They stated that they would be back at the festival again that day and if the wallet was found, it would be forwarded to me. I thanked the lady, hung up, took about two steps back to my seat and sat down next to my wife who was reading.

I picked up my book to read and as I raised my head, a fellow sitting directly across the aisle from me leaned forward and said something to me that I could not hear.

I leaned forward also and said to him, "Pardon me, but I didn't hear what you said."

He repeated again in hushed tones, "I overheard your phone conversation about losing your wallet.  Do you have enough money to get you home? I could loan you some if you need it."

Can you believe it folks? Here's this fellow in an airport offering to lend a total stranger money. I should have been amazed but was not because that's the second time something like that has happened to me in the South. More on that later.

I thanked the fellow and told him that fortunately I had taken my money from it and would get home O.K. He said I was welcome, and our conversation ended.  He went back to talking to his wife and one of their mothers. I opened my book to read, but could not. Our conversation had lasted only a few seconds, but it was becoming evident that what had transpired was extra special.

They arose and headed on out to the departure gate.  I said to my wife, "That was a wonderful thing that fellow did, wasn't it?"  She looked up from her book and said that it was and went back reading.  "I bet he's from the South," I commented. Again she looked up and said that she didn't know. "I'm going to find out. I'll be back in a minute." She said "O.K." and I headed out to find him.

He saw me coming, and as I approached, I extended my hand for a shake. He stood and took my hand.  I said to him, "Friend, that was a wonderful thing you did back there and I didn't thank you properly. I want to do that now." And again he said I was welcome. I asked him where he was from and he replied, "Little Rock, Arkansas."  I slapped my knee and said, "I knew it!  I knew you had to be a Southerner because that's the way true Southern people are."

That was Sunday. Monday morning I got a call from a lady named Betty Sellers who runs a little curb market and RV Park in Carrabelle. It was one of the places we had stopped. That's where I left the wallet. She asked if the address on my driver's license was where she should send it. I told her it was and thanked her kindly.

As stated earlier, I keep only a few items in my wallet and I knew nothing in there had my phone number on it. That, coupled with the fact that our number is unlisted, made me curious as to how she got it, so I asked.  She had called information in Atlanta but was told of the unlisted status. She then looked at my auto insurance card, saw my agent's name and number and called him, long distance of course.  That's going the extra mile, isn't it?

Well, I got her address so I could send a thank you note. I enclosed a check for $50.00 to express my gratitude. She had gone way out of her way to help me and she deserved it. She's another True Southerner.

But wait, her story isn't over. A few days later I got a letter from her. She thanked me for my generous gift, stated that she was an honest person and couldn't possibly take money just for doing what's right.  What a lady!  A credit to her parents.

About the second incident, some years ago my wife and I, and another couple, were enjoying that marvelous show that Mother Nature puts on in those magical mountains of north Georgia. Late in the afternoon we began looking for a place to spend the night. We had stopped at many motels along the way, but all were full. It was getting dark and we had just about decided that we would have to go on back to Atlanta when we came upon another motel just up ahead. It consisted of eight or ten detached cottages, little white ones with front porches.

I pulled the car up to the one with the office sign, got out and started to the door.  There was a young fellow maybe eighteen to twenty years old sitting on the porch of the next cabin.  He said to me in his Southern drawl, "All the cabins are full up and the people that run this place have gone to bed."

I thanked him, returned to the car and opened the door. As I did, I heard him say, "How many you got with you?"  "There's four of us," I said.  "I'm up here with my mama and aunt" he said, "and this is a two bedroom cabin. There are two double beds in each bedroom. If y'all want to, we'll share the cabin with you - if y'all want to."

Well, the four of us looked at each other and maybe in another part of the world and under different circumstances, an offer like that would be eyed with suspicion. But, somehow we knew this fellow could be trusted.

"Your mama and aunt won't mind?"  "Heck no," he said, and called her to the porch. "Mama these folks can't find a place to stay tonight, and we got enough room for 'em. It O.K. with you if we share the cabin with 'em?"  She said, "Certainly it is. You folks get out and come in, we'd be glad to have y'all."  And so we did and got along famously with them. Next morning we paid them for half the night's rent, thanked them kindly, and went our separate ways.

Only in the South have I found these special kinds of people. It goes beyond Southern Hospitality; it's a Southern State of Mind. It is, in my opinion, what brought the Olympics to Atlanta. All those decision makers from all over the world saw that true Southerners are indeed special.

They are rare, but they are there. They care and are eager to befriend and I'm proud to be from the South and to live amongst 'em.

Dan Darrington