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From the Mouth of the River

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From the Mouth of the River

Fat people are hard to kidnap

I just returned from Hog Heaven. That’s right, Iowa and parts of Missouri. I have to take this trip every so often to show my wife, Lovie, that I still love her family and to show her family that they were right about me not being able to keep her in the manner to which she had become accustomed!

For the first time in 30 years the weather back there was as cool and comfortable as it was here in the Magic Kingdom, thanks to the storms that continually rumbled through, bringing hail, rain and tornados.

We had a near mishap on our final approach to the Cedar Rapids (Iowa) airport when a doublewide from Kansas flew by on our side of the plane. It was really neat, though. I got to wave at Toto and Auntie Em, though Uncle Ned had been lost when their house was destroyed years ago. Auntie Em and Toto moved into the doublewide when Dorothy ran off with a traveling shoe salesman from Des Moines.

The reason I mentioned a “final” approach was because we flew Northwest Airlines, a company that’s been known to land on anything that’s long and narrow. Apparently there are many strips of wheat in South Dakota with burn and skid marks in them. Just before we left here, they had landed at a military base after missing the airport by 20 miles! Now they have to fly by the terminal to read the name on it before they can land. You ought to see the look on the air traffic controller’s face when they do that! Anyway, I just reminded myself that any crash you can walk away from is a good landing.

We missed our Fourth of July celebration here on the river as there is nothing like it anywhere outside of Iraq. Emergency personnel come here to practice their skills, and are always amazed to find children and grownups alike with one or two fingers blown off by homemade fireworks, yet still able to count to ten! Instead, we spent our Fourth in a small town in northern Missouri called Lancaster. It was the first time Lancaster had fireworks and they held it at the country club, a.k.a. the doublewide clubhouse at the local golf course. Every town in Missouri big enough to have a stop sign also has a golf course, sponsored, no doubt, by John Deere as they sell one hell of a lot of riding lawnmowers in the Midwest. In fact, when you move back there you’re required to license your motor vehicle and show proof of ownership of at least one riding lawnmower.

In order for a small town like Lancaster to afford such a magnificent fireworks display, they had a fundraising fish-fry and potluck. Every housewife in the area brought their favorite dish, and enough of it to feed a harvest crew. 

Out back of the clubhouse there was a big, black pot half full of cooking oil boiling away over an open fire, where a long-handled dipper made of chicken wire was used to lower and retrieve fillets of carp. That’s right, folks, carp. I know what you are thinking. I was thinking it, too. I thought they were nuts.

First, they scaled the carp, cut it into four– to five-inch squares, de-boned it, rolled it in corn meal, and then deep fried it along with catfish, potato chips and hushpuppies. The result would make you slap your mama if she tried to reach for the last piece. If you don’t think these people take their obesity to a new level, think again. I saw a bumper sticker at the fish fry that said, “Fat people are hard to kidnap.”

Hmmm.  I wonder if Northwest Airlines has heard about that?

Boots

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Author info

Boots Reynolds Boots Reynolds The "internationally-renowned cowboy artist" Boots Reynolds has moved his comedic interpretation of life into the writing field with his regular column in the River Journal - From the Mouth of the River.

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