This month we have a little humor thanks to Grandma Caddis and an Anonymous contributor.
Fishing with Momby Grandma Caddis
'Please don't wear those wild colored shorts again!' my son complained, 'The fish can see you coming a mile away!' (I visualized massive schools of trout bug-eyed and fleeing in terror as they spy large pink and aqua bloomers headed their way.) I just couldn't imagine why fish would panic at the sight of these beautifully tailored shorts. I couldn't even imagine that fish could see me, let alone being able to distinguish the color of my bottoms! And at that, separate the colors well enough to think that the being wearing those colors could be any kind of threat to them. But alas it might have been true, as out of the five Fridays my son and I had spent fishing together, the only fish catching was done by him and the most fish were caught the Friday I couldn't join him!
Yes, the shorts must be the reason because it couldn't be my method of fishing; the way I only talk when it is necessary, only splash when I fall, only get snagged six or seven times a trip (down from a month ago!), only lose my way three or four times, only... ... Hey, maybe the fish were not really frightened by my attire but were laughing too hard at my attempts to catch them? Nah... fish are flaky, but not rude.
So, with fish fashion in mind, before my next trip I'll be off to find a 'camouflage/drab' fashion outfit for my next fishing expedition ensemble.
Corn Criminalby anonymous
May 20th, 1989 - I set out for a wonderful day of fishing at the Chatahoochee river. One pole, one tackle box, and a can of corn is all I need. Corn you say? But corn is illegal on some parts of the Chatahoochee river. I know that now. I was given a ticket by a park ranger for 'fishing with illegal bait.'
My day ruined, I proceeded to go home. I was ordered to appear at the state court in Lawrenceville, Georgia on June 30th at 9:00 am. About a week later I decide to call and see what my fine will be. I call information for the number, write it down, and call. I get a message that tells me that they are not open and to call Monday through Friday. No problem. I give them a call on the next Monday. From what I can remember the first person I spoke to was the receptionist. She tells me that the courthouse does not handle these matters and to call the Georgia department of Natural Resources. I get the number and call. I was told to call the sheriffs department of the county in which the offense was committed, I call. I talk to someone who tells me to call the courthouse. Right back where I started. Well to make a long story a little shorter, I was given lots of phone numbers, transferred to many different departments until finally I reached someone who knew what I was talking about. I gave them my name and ticket number and they said that they had no record of my citation! Ok, they lost it, good for me, now I am done with this whole mess.
August 15th, 1989, 8:00 pm - I am taken from my home by two Cobb County Police officers with a bench warrant for my arrest. They take me to the Cobb County jail and put me in a holding cell. They tell my I have no bond and cannot leave until I am transferred to Gwinnett County. I had been in the holding cell for about two hours when they decide to put me in the cell block. They take me to a room, make me strip off my clothing and spray me with soap. Then I am told to shower. I get under the freezing water and rinse the soap off myself just to get sprayed again with some sort of deodorant. I am now given a towel and told to dry off. I do so and when I am finished they hand me a uniform, complete with plastic shoes.
I am put back in a holding cell with two other men. One man is charged with minor possession, one charged with battery and little old me charged with corn! About 15 minutes later I am put in another room with these men while a nurse asks me some questions and takes my temperature. Next thing I know I am in the Cell Block. I am put in a cell with a dangerous looking man who refuses to talk. You would think I would be scared, but I wasn't. I knew if he tried anything I would just whip out my corn and he would surely cower below me!
August 16th, 12:40 am - I am taken from the cell block and stripped of my clothes once again. I put on my street clothes and get into yet another police car, this one headed for Gwinnett. I get to the Gwinnett County jail at about 2:00 am and am put directly into a drunk tank. This is where all the DUIs and other creatures of the night are placed. the tank looked about like an average bathroom except it was much dirtier and it had six other people in it. Five of these people were passed out on the floor and one was perched on a brick wall designed to block the view of the toilet. For a moment I wondered why he was up there, but then I realized it. There was no room in this room! I could not move more that an inch in any direction without running into a passed out inmate. So I stood. I stood in one place until 6:30 am the same day. I stood there for 4 1/2 hours. I had spent the night in jail, or should I say stood the night in jail. At 6:30 I was again put into a holding cell. This cell had a phone! I immediately called my mother to see if she had made any progress in trying to get me released; she had not. She was calling everybody who was anybody in the world of justice, but no one could help. About an hour later I was served breakfast. I got cold oatmeal with the consistency of a pancake, a biscuit which somehow made me think of hardtack, a half-pint of milk, and something that resembled scrambled eggs. Actually not a bad breakfast for someone in jail. I saw many people come and go that morning and actually kind of started to get used to it when again I was moved. Once again I was stripped and showered and put into a cell block, this time with about 20 or 30 other people. Meanwhile my family worked frantically to get me out.
Approximately 11:00 am an officer came in and told me to 'pack my bags,' I was going home. My father had talked to a judge and gotten me released. I got a new court date and my fine was waived, credit for time served in jail. Well, after all the hardship this caused my and my family I have one thing to say, 'I never want to see a can of corn again!'