No name, no fame

T

he cool thing about the U.S. Constitution is it gives you freedom of speech, but in turn, in also gives you the right to keep your mouth shut. Of course there's some wiggle room in both cases, but I obviously like it when people exercise their freedom of speech, as opposed to their freedom to clam up and tell me to go to h-e double toothpicks.

Newspapers, in order to stay in business, need folks to gab and blab. It's the nature of the business. If everyone was mum, life wouldn't be much fun.

Mum people are irritating anyway. I'm not talking about the people who choose their words carefully and don't say a whole lot - I've always admired those types.

You know the kind. They're sort of quiet and reserved but when they say something, folks tend to listen.

I was never very good at carefully choosing my words. I have a tendency to say what I think and that has often got me into situations, that, quite honestly, I'd rather not talk about.

But I'm not talking about the quiet, reserved, folks here. I'm talking about the ones who won't talk to you just to be, well, strange.

I was in the Park this weekend shooting folks as Logan Pass opened and these bighorn sheep were alongside the road and these three people were sort of watching them (one of them was actually looking in other direction for some reason). At any rate, the sheep bolted out in front of them across the road and I snapped a picture of it.

Afterward I asked the three people if I could get their names. I did the usual spiel, which goes like this when I'm in Glacier: Hi. I'm with the Hungry Horse News and I got you in my picture and I was wondering if I could get your name.

Then I write their name in my checkbook, because I almost always, without a doubt, forget my notebook. More often than not, I usually forget a pen as well. In that case, I hope one of two things will happen:

A) They'll have short name I can remember before I get to my truck and a pen or,

B) I pray to God they have a pen. Which is weird, because more often than not, not only do people often have a pen on them, they often have a piece of paper as well.

Most people will not only give you their name, they'll tell you where they live and what they do and why they're here and how much they're enjoying it. I've even had them give me their entire address, street number and all, without even asking.

But these three folks with the sheep weren't talking. Two were Asian and were obviously not from the country at all, but the white balding guy was obviously not only from the U.S., he was from Montana, judging from his license plates.

"I don't think so," he said when I asked him his name.

I don't think so? What kind of answer is that? It's not like I was carrying a plateful of hors d'oeuvers. I wasn't dishing up mini-quiche here.

I don't think so?

Those kind of people make me think of one thing and that is this: What are you hiding in your trunk?

I've always wanted to blurt that out.

But I haven't - yet.

One thing you do learn fairly quickly in this business is that most strangers are friendly, but some strangers are strange.

You never know, until you ask.

Chris Peterson is the editor of the Hungry Horse News.