“A warm smile is the universal language of kindness.”
—William Arthur Ward (1921-1994) American motivational writer.
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We met Bobbi Jo at a restaurant across the street from our Appleton, Wisconsin hotel. Her smile was exactly the kind of welcoming presence one needs a thousand miles from home. Exhausted after a long day enjoying an airshow … and swatting ginormous mosquitoes rivaling those found in East Texas.
The official name of the world-famous airshow and aviation gathering we were attending is EAA AirVenture Oshkosh. But just say “Oshkosh” around anyone who knows their aileron from an altimeter, and they’ll tell you exactly where we were.
Wittman Regional Airport, 30 miles from Appleton, is the home of Oshkosh. The world’s largest aviation extravaganza features daily aerobatic performances, historic warbirds, and aircraft exhibits attracting around 700,000 visitors. All in one week in July when this quiet Midwestern airfield becomes the busiest airport in the world with more than 10,000 planes flying in creating some 16,000 aircraft operations.
And, when every hotel room, spare bedroom, and makeshift space for miles around is booked years in advance.
I loved airshows long before I logged my first hour as a pilot. In fact, the ink was still wet on my new license 40-plus years ago when I flew a Cessna 172 from Mount Pleasant, in the northeast corner of Texas, down to Harlingen at the southernmost tip of the state for the Commemorative Air Force airshow—one of the largest regional aviation events in the South.
To most pilots, major airshows represent a small slice of heaven on earth. And as a once regular Oshkosh attendee absent now for a decade, my yearning gets strong about this time every year.
But I digress anytime you get me to talking about airplanes.
It’s memories of people like Bobbi Jo that prompted this missive. Years spent working trade shows from New York City to Los Angeles, and San Francisco to Orlando meeting countless friendly people everywhere. Memories that keep me smiling, reminding that even in a society ill with divisiveness and hate, friendly still begets friendliness when we remember to share it.
Like the day Bobbi Jo greeted me and my Oshkosh trade show colleague and friend, Jim Altom. “Hi guys, how are we doing today?” her voice rang out loudly in the busy restaurant. “Can I start ya off with some cheese curds?”
“Yes,” I responded. “And we’re great. How ‘bout you?”
“Blessed to be here, don’tcha know,” she returned warmly. “How about something to drink while ya look over the menu?”
“Sweet tea please,” I replied. “Same,” Jim echoed.
She paused, looking at us with a knowing smile. “You two are from Texas, aren’t ya?”
“I guess it’s the accent,” I laughed. “Or was it the sweet tea?”
“Well, that too,” she said. “But honestly, it’s because you’re so polite. People from Texas are always polite, and politeness cures whatever ails ya. Right?”
Then she added, “Texas is quite a haul! What brings ya up to Wisconsin? Let me guess—the airshow.”
We both nodded.
“So, what part of Texas do you guys call home?”
“Originally from Northeast Texas but spent most of my life in Center, small town near the Louisiana border,” I said.
“North Texas, over toward Dallas,” Jim added with a nod.
“Texas is just huge,” she remarked with emphasis.
“It is,” Jim agreed, leaning into his natural sense of humor. “Did you know that back in the covered wagon days, if a baby was born in Texarkana while a family was crossing the state line, by the time they reached El Paso, that baby would be in the third grade?”
Bobbi Jo laughed loudly at the old Texas tale. “You guys are definitely Texans. Always polite and always bragging about your home state.”
For me, politeness and humor have always functioned as a universal language. Everywhere I’ve been, here and abroad, I’ve found that freely offered friendliness is most often repaid with dividends.
The 73rd edition of Oshkosh is just around the corner, and a return trip just isn’t in the cards this year. One more time I will miss the greatest aviation celebration on earth, the best cheese anywhere, and mosquitoes that are jokingly (kind of) called the state bird.
And I’ll miss that Midwestern hospitality like Bobbi Jo freely shared. Matching that of any Texan, and guaranteed to cure “whatever ails ya.”
—Leon Aldridge
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Leon Aldridge is a veteran editor, publisher, and communications professional, currently enjoying semi-retirement while awaiting his next challenge. His columns appear in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine. © Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with full and clear credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’
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