Like the swallows to Capistrano, or even more like displaced marbled newts, who can only return home when stars are visible, each summer Longmire fans return to Buffalo, Wyoming. Now, you may ask yourself, why on earth would someone drive or fly thirty to a few thousand miles to hang out in a small western town in the heat of summer? The simple answer is…Craig Johnson, the modern emblem of the American west.
From the formidable mind of Mr. Johnson has sprung a cast of characters that is richly drawn and set down in a landscape so awe-inspiring and deftly described that the reader either feels they have seen it or knows they must. Johnson is the author of the Longmire mysteries, now thirteen novels strong and the inspiration for the six-season Netflix series. Using his intense ability to observe humanity, his gift for stringing words together to form prose, his sense of humor and irony, and his beautiful region of Wyoming, Mr. Johnson has created a world in which folks want to spend time.
I know, because I’ve been there myself for two summers now, all the way from Carolina. Longmire Days… that’s what they call it. It began as a simple idea to promote Mr. Johnson’s books that were set in the area and to give a boost to the town, and has grown into a huge event—over 10,000 in attendance—drawing some folks every year for its six-year span as if they are on a pilgrimage. I’ve spent this summer working in a little store in downtown Buffalo called, Longmire Headquarters. The store belongs to Judy Johnson, wife of the author. When I agreed to work in the store, I knew the weekend of Longmire Days would be insane. You simply cannot be in the epicenter of an event that temporarily swells the town’s population to four times its normal size without experiencing a bit of hubbub. What I did not know to expect was the strength of the connection folks feel for Longmire and their desire to share their stories. As I stood by the counter in the center of the store, I began to feel like a bartender must feel as the recipient of so many heartfelt tales.
Time and again, I found myself clearing the counter or bagging a shirt as someone began to tell me how Longmire impacted their life. After a few stories, I got to where I could tell by their face if they wanted to share. On occasion, I would prod them with a soft voice, “How did you get to know Longmire?” and the story would unfold as if the person had been just chomping at the bit for someone to ask.
***
It began, in earnest, the week before Longmire Days as travelers began to gravitate to Buffalo (called Durant in the books) in preparation for the coming gathering. Things were quiet in the store then, and as I engaged in conversation welcoming the folks, they began to offer up their “Longmire and me” stories.
Many were simple stories, based on reactions to Mr. Johnson’s superb writing style. This was Sam’s story—of stumbling onto a new series in the mystery section at his local library and finishing The Cold Dish, the first in the series, with the thought that Mr. Johnson’s Walt Longmire had become an old friend. He loved the dry wit and the intelligence of the piece.
Several people told me something along the lines of, “My father was that kind of sheriff.” There is Ry, whose connection to the stories grew because his father was a small town, rural sheriff. He appreciates the human integrity, humor, and perseverance of Walt Longmire, and of Craig Johnson himself.
Many folks told me, “This is something I can enjoy with my father.” Several folks said, “My mother and I read these together.”
One small town police officer told me, “I was just so discouraged with the negativity of my daily life—then I found Longmire. Getting to know Walt Longmire allowed me to see myself as the good guy again.”
I heard from teachers. One said, “These are the character lessons I try to teach my students. It is hard to find examples of them in today’s literature for teens. I can’t just share the whole books with my students, but I often pick out certain sections and use it for discussion. One young man called it my ‘What Would Walt Do’ lesson, but it gets the students thinking critically.”
One mother brought her adult daughter, who is a deputy sheriff in another state, to Longmire Days. She said Longmire has helped her understand her daughter’s career and why she chose it. The character of Deputy Moretti reminds her of her daughter and she is very proud of her strength, toughness, and compassion.
For some, their attraction to the festival was about being in the area where Sheriff Longmire ‘operates.’ A spry, attractive, seventy-ish woman told me of her desire to see the west. “I was perfectly satisfied in my little town (in New England) all my life. But, when my book club started the Longmire series, it piqued my curiosity about this place and these people. My son thought I had lost my mind, but in my heart, I knew I just had to see it.”
A big, brawny man in his sixties, with a bodacious mustache winked at me and pointed across the room at an attractive woman shopping with her back to us as he said, “My wife is just like Vic! She’s retired now, but she was a police officer back in Wisconsin. This feller must know a little something about life to write a lady like her. I thought it was about time somebody wrote about a real woman.”
She had laughed when Walt told his friends he was not depressed, even as all the signs were there. She realized she was doing the same thing. She decided to turn things around for herself.There was Donna, who told me about how she was in the midst of a heartrending divorce when she found Longmire. Feeling defeated and beat down, she was depressed and lacked purpose. Her face pinked as she said, “It was like as Walt pulled himself out of depression, I felt like I could do it, too.” She had laughed when Walt told his friends he was not depressed, even as all the signs were there. She realized she was doing the same thing. She decided to turn things around for herself. She took note of the way Walt overcame his problem with a strong support group and by engaging in life happening around him. She used Longmire as a bit of a guidebook and started living again. This was her second trip to Longmire Days. She is moving on in her life, making new friends, and looking forward to the future.
There was Mac, the Park Ranger, who came in the store one morning and made a purchase and came back a few hours later just to chat about Longmire. In his quiet voice, he told me, “There’s something about Craig’s stories. You see and hear the news—and it can make you feel the world’s gone to hell. Then you read Longmire, and you ‘see,’ in the characters, parts of the people you know.” He went on to tell me how these stories remind you of the part of America that sometimes gets forgotten in pop culture—those good, hardworking, straight-up folks who go quietly about the act of living doing the best they can to do the right thing. Mac chuckled as he said, “I’m not even sure how I got drawn into these stories—but it’s kinda like Durant and its people give me hope about America. Somebody out there gets it.”
On a Thursday morning, I got to talk with Brandon. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, with a scruffy beard and clear blue eyes. As he purchased t-shirts and bumper stickers he smiled and told me, “My Longmire swag has opened doors for me. I’ve read all the books and already pre-ordered the one coming in September. I had my stickers and a Longmire tag on my old truck. I applied for a job and got an interview—supposed to meet my potential boss for lunch. I walked in and saw her and wondered what we would have to talk about through a whole meal. She had seen me pull up, though—saw my Longmire tag. As I pulled out my chair she said, “Tell me what you like about Longmire.” It was the best interview I’ve ever had.”
Sherry, from Texas, grinned as she purchased multiple copies of the first four books in the series.
I said, “You know you have several copies of these books. Did you mean to do that?”
Sherry said, “Oh, these are not for me. I’ve read them all…some more than once. I buy these paperback copies to loan to friends. I don’t want to risk not getting my hard copy back. I’m winning folks over to Longmire. I’m out there converting them every day! And, they always end up thanking me.”
Then there’s me. I’m a single-parent schoolteacher, caregiver to my parents, from The Carolinas. My teen son brought Longmire to me. He raved about the characters, the setting, the honorable men. As a single mother, I have spent my son’s life guiding him toward good male role models. I had read The Cold Dish within the week. Through our Longmire connection, we have met wonderful people from all walks of life. My son has developed several strong role models and let go of some fears. After a lifetime of wanting to see the west, I have driven cross-country with him two summers now. Crossing America, we have shared amazing sights and sites. We have created memories together that will last us a lifetime and made friends we will keep, as well. In Walt, my son found reflections of his pops, my dad—and a man he wanted to emulate in his own life. In Vic, I saw a kindred spirit. Her rough edges are made smooth by her compassionate heart, sometimes dark humor, and powerful intellect. I had become complacent and a little fearful in the security of my life. Rekindling my Vic-ness, reminded me of strengths I held within me and dreams left unattained. My son graduated from high school this year and we are on a quest…an adventure of sorts…finding our place in the world.
***
The Longmire weekend was a blur and Sunday evening came soon. As folks packed their bags to return to their daily lives, the town settled down to its normal lingering quiet. I locked up the store and walked over to The Busy Bee for the first ‘sit-down’ meal I’d had in three days. I sat alone watching the rippling current of Clear Creek, when a man parked a car out front, looked at me through the window with a grim expression and began to enter the café. I recognized him as someone who had been in the store at least twice over Longmire Days—from South Carolina, I believe—I had also interacted with him at a couple of events where we were selling. I will admit, my first thought whispered under my breath was, “Oh, Lord, don’t let something be wrong with his purchase—I’m so tired.” He came briskly through the door and up to my table like a man on a mission. I may have actually winced, preparing myself.
When he stopped before me he grinned a little and said, “Excuse me. Ma’am. I really hated to bother you while you’re getting’ supper, but I want to thank you for all the work you did this weekend.”
He held out his hand and mine raised automatically—he grasped it gently and clasped his other hand on top—giving it a couple ups and downs. I managed a small smile, but said nothing and must have looked at him questioningly. He went on, “My wife and I noticed how hard you and the other Longmire folks work to make it easy for us to enjoy your store and our time here. I’ve seen you everywhere. We’re here for the first time and we loved it. We’re coming back next year and have already told the chamber ladies we’ll volunteer. I have military experience and my wife works in security. We came ‘cause we found out Mr. Johnson based his books here. We sure love them. They are funny and have characters that seem like people we might know.”
I found my voice and thanked him with a smile.
No names were exchanged. I suppose the only name we needed to find our common ground was Longmire.He went on to say, “The people in these books just deal with life. Whatever happens they are just solvin’ the problem in front of them. That’s what we do every day and it just makes the whole thing seem to real to me. Anyway, go back to your supper. My wife just saw you in here and we thought we would let you know. We are real thankful for Mr. Johnson and this whole Longmire…thing…we’ve met some great people. We’ll see you next year.”
We said our goodbyes and I watched as he got back in his car. His wife gave a little wave and I did the same. No names were exchanged. I suppose the only name we needed to find our common ground was Longmire.
Meeting Longmire folks as they came through the little store this month has been a pleasure. Any one of them can saunter up to my bar anytime they want and find a willing listener and compassionate observer. I get it. I understand that the words, ideas, places, and characters penned by Craig Johnson can awaken long ago ideas in a person. I know that his words have gone farther than he could have ever imagined when he lifted his first old manuscript out of his desk drawer to complete it. I realize the Longmire books can draw a person across this country and to new friends and places—to a tiny town in the least populated state—to a small Longmire store—just in time to listen as a new friend shares their story.
