Many
moons ago, I spent a couple of decades as an ambitious computer programmer and
manager, in Minneapolis and Los Angeles. Married for 5 years, then divorced. By
my 40s, I was burned out. I quit the full-time corporate grind and became a
programmer for hire (hourly rates, short-term contracts).
Eventually,
I escaped the big city for a less stressful life in the boondocks. After living
in the Arizona desert for 6 years, I moved to the Ozark Mountains of northern
Arkansas, where I wrote 4 novels (on my bucket list), then moved to Memphis to
do a Y2K computer contract for 10 months and moved back to northern Arkansas
where I bought a secluded place on a dirt road (4 miles from a small town) and
worked on the 2000 Census.
With
no computer programming jobs available in Redneck Heaven, I managed to get a
part-time gig teaching computer courses at a local college (2001-2006) and
writing a column for a local weekly newspaper (2001-2007).
The
newspaper was located in Salem, Arkansas (population 1,400), the county seat of
Fulton County. It was part of a group of publications headquartered in Cape
Girardeau, Missouri, and my column also appeared in several other newspapers in
northern Arkansas and southern Missouri.
In
February of 2001, I started at the newspaper, working in the office, breaking
in. It was my understanding that I was to be part-time (about 15 hours per
week), working primarily on putting the paper together on the computer.
After
only a couple of weeks on the job, I asked the editor-in-chief on a Friday
afternoon if I could write an article for the paper.
She
was a crusty old newspaper warhorse and gruffly told me to go have an interview
with an air conditioner. It was early spring. Obviously, she wanted me to write
a piece about how everyone should do some maintenance on their air conditioner
prior to seasonal usage.
However,
being the rebel I am, I took a different approach. That weekend, I cranked out
a short piece and turned it in to the editor on Monday morning.
*
* *
INTERVIEW
WITH AN AIR CONDITIONER
One
of the news editors suggested I interview an air conditioner. After all, summer
was right around the corner and it was assumed readers would want to know the
general feelings of their outdoor cooling equipment.
I
had always been under the impression appliances were incapable of speech but I
could be wrong. Rather than question the wisdom of the editor, I decided to go
along with it.
So
I sat on my deck the following Saturday afternoon, gazing at my air
conditioner, trying to figure out a way to communicate with it.
Finally,
I walked right up to it and introduced myself.
I
wasn’t too surprised at the silence that followed. Then I felt a little
embarrassed. After all I had lived there for two years. Surely it knew who I was by now.
“So
how’s it going?” I said, as if I was expecting an answer.
Again,
the air conditioner didn’t respond.
However,
my dog wandered over for a closer look. She seemed a bit perplexed that I would
be talking to the big green box sitting on a slab of concrete next to our
abode.
“Ya
ready for another summer?” I asked the big green box.
Again
no response.
I
wanted to ask it if it had a name but was certain I wouldn’t get an answer. For
some strange reason, I wanted to call it Frosty. Then I noticed it already had
a name engraved on its side that read "Intertherm" -- a proper name
for a hunk of cooling equipment.
I
wondered if Intertherm was looking forward to summer and being in use on a
daily basis.
Suddenly,
my dog tilted her head to the right, as if the big green box had communicated
with her.
I
quickly realized Intertherm was indeed looking forward to heavy usage, after
all that’s what machines do. They
delight in running smoothly and helping those who created them.
Without
uttering another word, I thanked the air conditioner for its fine service and
assured it, in my mind, that I would take proper care of it.
My
dog gave me an understanding look, then ran off to regain her sanity by chasing
a squirrel.
I
have no idea if I actually communicated with my air conditioner but it could’ve
been possible. If nothing else, it left me in a good mood. Intertherm seemed to
be in a good mood too. I even caught a glimpse of a smile as I walked away.
I
spent the rest of the afternoon talking to my toaster, mostly about sports.
So
now that summer is around the corner, have a chat with your air conditioner.
But
don’t call it Frosty.
*
* *
The
piece was a hit. It seemed easy and natural, so I started having notions of
doing some regular writing.
The
following week, the newspaper got a call that there was an accident at the
local airport. The person who was breaking me in told me to follow her in my
vehicle to the airport (small-town runway, about 4 small hangers).
When
we got back to the office, I decided to write a piece about my experience -- it
was to become my 2nd newspaper column -- prompting me to write another one for
the following week, and every week thereafter for the next 7 years.
* * *
HOW NOT TO
KISS A TREE
Last week,
an ultra-light aircraft attempted to land at the local airport when a gust of
wind forced it into a row of pine trees adjacent to the runway.
The incident
was reported immediately by an eyewitness whereupon a mad dash was made to the
Salem Airport by various concerns.
Within
minutes, the scene was inundated with rescue vehicles, including medical
emergency vans, ambulances, fire trucks, city police cars, county sheriff units
and other civilian volunteer vehicles; all parked precisely as required for the
circumstance.
The aircraft
was perched sideways in a tree with the cockpit over twenty feet in the air.
Two people were trapped inside.
Immediately,
foam was sprayed to prevent fuel from igniting as firefighters set up a ladder
to reach the stranded victims; one of whom was seriously injured.
About a
minute later, an NAEC truck showed up, backed into position and lifted its
“cherry-picker” buckets, occupied by two rescuers, up to the cockpit area. Another similar truck arrived a few seconds
later, backed in and two men maneuvered their buckets above the stricken
aircraft where they secured the wing and cockpit to prevent slippage.
Soon, the
female victim was removed from the wreckage and helped to the ground. She was a
bit shaken up but seemed otherwise okay.
It took a
great deal of effort to remove the male victim who had multiple injuries,
including a broken leg. Rescuers ripped off tree branches and pried away at
bent metal to make an opening. After about twenty minutes of struggle, they
managed to free him.
The injured
man was strapped to a stretcher and attended to by members of an emergency
medical team until a helicopter showed up about ten minutes later and took him
away.
Everyone at
the scene performed magnificently. There was a sense of urgency but no panic.
The primary rescue teams went about their business as if they had done it a
hundred times before.
Even most of
the bystanders seemed eager to help but realized they’d only be in the way. In
a world full of division and cynicism, it’s nice to know there are those who
will be there when you’re in heap of trouble.
Clearly, if
you are going to park your airplane in a tree you couldn’t pick a better spot
than Salem, Arkansas. Except, of course, in the nearest tree to a hospital
emergency room.
Before the
incident, the ultra-light aircraft looked like a tricycle with a small motor
and flimsy wings. Now it looks like a
twisted bundle of trash or a modern art masterpiece, depending on your point of
view.
* * *
Nevertheless,
I was still forced quit the job a few weeks later. It was a bit sad because I
had the urge to keep writing and it was a wonderful opportunity, but I was not
cut out to rush out the building to report on local nonsense.
However,
as I was leaving the building for the last time, the publisher met me at the
back door and we made an arrangement whereby I would keep writing columns, for
a fixed price per column, from home and e-mail them in.
Thus,
I wrote a weekly column for the newspaper for 7 years straight, never missing
an issue, winning multiple awards for my humor columns (of the previous year)
from the Arkansas Press Association.
- First
Place Humor Column -- 2003
- Second
Place Humor Column -- 2004
- First
Place Humor Column -- 2006
- First
Place Humor Column -- 2007
I
also won awards for pieces in other categories.
In
the summer of 2007, the editor refused to publish the following column
submission, which she deemed to be offensive to the citizens of Fulton County.
I replaced it with another piece and life went on, never missing a weekly
column until I walked away a couple of months later.
Since
I am no longer employed by the newspaper, I present the forbidden item here. I
seriously doubt if many will be offended by it -- if so, I suggest switching to
decaf or perhaps some psychological therapy.
* * *
ACRONYMS OF FULTON COUNTY
Arkansas
has many towns with descriptive names such as Little Rock, Pine Bluff, Hot
Springs, Eureka Springs, Mountain View, Mountain Home, Lake Village, Lake City,
Pleasant Plains, Walnut Ridge, Black Rock and so on. The names are indicative
of a prominent feature of the surrounding area.
Sharp
County has its share of such places.
- Ash Flat – A flat area containing lots
of ashes
- Cave City – A cave within an area
populated by cave people
- Evening Shade – A town with lots of
shade trees blocking the late afternoon sun
- Hidden Valley – A community in a
hard-to-find valley
- Cherokee Village – A village established
along the Cherokee Nation Trail of Tears with simple street names like
Tonganoxie, Pottawattamie, Monongahela and Choctawhatchee
- Ozark Acres – Acreage in the Ozark
Mountains, or close to the Ozark Mountains, depending on whether you’re a
seller or a buyer
Izard
County also has many towns with descriptive names.
- Violet Hill – A hill with violets
- Calico Rock – An area of rock formations
that are calico in appearance, predominantly white with dark patches
- Horseshoe Bend – A community along a
river that makes a curve in the shape of a horseshoe where lots of retired
horseshoe players reside
- Mt Pleasant – A high knob giving off
pleasant vibes
- Pleasant Valley – A hole in the ground
giving off pleasant vibes
- Lone Star – A spot reserved for
Arkansas’ lone movie star, Billy Bob Thornton, when he gets expelled from
show business
With
the exception of Mammoth Spring, Fulton County has no such descriptive names.
Mammoth Spring is a community built alongside a large spring of water oozing
out of the ground. At first, they were going to call it Big Ooze, but that was
soon scrapped because the high school didn’t want their sport’s teams to be
known as the Big Oozers and the Lady Big Oozers. Apparently, it had something
to do with teen-age angst. After a few more suggestions, like Large Leak,
Wondrous Waterspout, Giant Gusher, and Stupendous Seepage, they settled on
Mammoth Spring.
Legend
has it that Fulton County wanted to be descriptive with their other township
names too, but didn’t want to spend much money on paint for their town signs.
The citizens of Fulton County are very practical and frugal, otherwise known as
cheap. So they held a secret meeting and potluck dinner on the banks of the
South Fork River, where they decided to give each town an acronym that would
best describe it -- short, yet descriptive, names.
An
acronym is a word formed from the initial letter of each part of the compound
term.
For
example, USA in an acronym for the United States of America, FBI is an acronym
for the Federal Bureau of Investigation and SOS is an acronym for Something On
a Shingle.
Some
of the Fulton County acronyms are:
- SALEM – Site All Law Enforcers Meet
- VIOLA – Very Interesting Odd Little Area
- AGNOS – Another Good Neighborhood
Outside of Salem
- GEPP – Gently Elevated Peculiar Place
- CAMP – Concentrated Area of Municipal
Parking
- MOKO – Mostly Old Knobby Oaks
- HEART – Hilly Earth Area of Removed
Trees
- UNION – Uninhibited Neighbors Inhabit
Outhouses Nightly
- BYRON – Back Yonder Right Over Nearby
I live in Fulton County in
the township of Fairview. It seems like the perfect place for someone like me.
- FAIRVIEW – For Annoying Individuals
Requiring Very Intense Evaluation Weekly
In fact, I’m so annoying I
may actually be mayor by default.
"Cities
force growth, and make men talkative and entertaining, but they make them
artificial." Ralph Waldo Emerson
* * *
When
I first started writing the newspaper columns, I tried to do mostly humor items
and won several annual awards for humor columns through the Arkansas Press
Association. However, my attempts at humor initially offended some of the
readers. The newspaper even received a few threats of subscription
cancellations if I wasn't immediately removed from uttering my gibberish in
print.
Yes,
I can be a smartass at times -- it's my way of
dealing with the insanity of the world.
Thus,
I wrote the following newspaper column, published in May of 2001, as a response
to those who wanted me tarred and feathered, and expelled from the human race.
* * *
HUMOR
WARNING
Recently,
I noticed a couple of letters to the editor written by people who expressed
their intolerance for what they perceived to be my lack of tolerance.
I’ve
tried real hard to inject some humor into my columns. Obviously, I’ve failed.
I
was born in Arkansas. Six months later, my parents moved to Ohio. I decided to
tag along. At age three, I found myself
living in Wisconsin. Fourth and fifth grade were in Kansas and sixth grade
through college in Minnesota. I also lived in Miami for a year, two years in
Atlanta, twelve years in Los Angeles, six years in Arizona, about a year in
Memphis, another ten years in Arkansas, plus several other places in between.
All in all, I’ve lived at 52 different addresses in 12 different states.
When
I wrote the line “…keep those pesky northerners from moving down here and
spoiling the scenery” I was not speaking of a breed of folks of whom I
disapprove. I’m just as much northerner as anything else.
I
love this area and hope I never have to move again. My point was that I didn’t
want to see a whole lot of people moving here and ruining the place. Scenery,
by the way, is what was here before people came along and built roads, houses
and strip malls.
In
retrospect, I should’ve said Texans instead of northerners. Nobody wants a
bunch of Texans moving into their area. They are loud and obnoxious; all hat
and no cattle.
NOTE:
The above comments about Texans were meant to be humorous. I even have friends
from Texas. Of course, they’re loud and obnoxious but they all can’t possibly
be that way.
I
don’t mind criticism. When you go through life as a wisecracker, you expect to
take some flak.
What
bothers me is that a newspaper subscriber would threaten to cut off their
subscription simply because they didn’t appreciate one tiny column in the lower
left-hand corner of an inside page. Would you throw your TV set away just
because you came across a program that offended you?
If
you dislike like my column, simply don’t read it. To ignore the rest of the
paper is ridiculous and to demand that your subscription be terminated is an
insult to all the outstanding people who work very hard to put the paper
together. Don’t punish them just because you think I’m a jerk. After all, there
are lots of jerks out there that need a voice too.
In
order to avoid future mishaps, I’m considering placing a warning at the
beginning of my columns. Some under consideration are as follows:
WARNING:
The following was written by a person who is attempting to be humorous – read
at your own risk
WARNING:
If you don’t understand or appreciate the following sense of humor, feel free
to place it at the bottom of your bird cage or bury it in your garden – it’s
biodegradable
WARNING:
There may be references to the author’s ex-wife that seem derogatory – in
reality, the author’s ex-wife considers them to be funny and enjoys reading
them
WARNING:
The author of the following is often considered to be a moronic jerk – if you
find it amusing, you may also be a moronic jerk
We all don’t have the same
sense of humor. Believe it or not, some people actually find my columns
amusing. Many of them even appear to be normal.
Censoring me will get you
nowhere. The world is full of wisecracking jerks standing in line to take my
place. Your best alternative is to just lighten up. Who knows, you might even
enjoy it.
“I can win an argument on any topic, against
any opponent. People know this, and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a
sign of their great respect, they don't even invite me.” Dave Barry
*
* *
Thus,
I wrote a weekly column for the newspaper for 7 years straight, never missing
an issue, winning multiple awards, until we got new management with rocks for
brains and a "my way or the highway" attitude.
I
chose the highway.
But
I continued to write blogs & books -- apparently, I'm a writer after all.
___________
Quote for the Day -- “If you don't read the
newspaper, you're uninformed -- If you read the newspaper, you're misinformed.”
Mark Twain
___________
Bret Burquest is the author
of 10 books. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a couple of dogs and where
the hardest part about writing is coming up with the first word.
___________
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