(This first ran in Sunday editions of The Times and The News-Star Sunday, July 12, 2020 — but for some reason, only the answers ran. Probably a coding issue with the Bold and Itals. I’ll ask Paperboy next time I see him …)
Paperboy liked the world better when 55 was the speed limit and all we could “catch” was the Rockin’ Pneumonia and the Boogie Woogie Flu, way back when Paperboy didn’t know what an infrared thermometer was. Sigh… That said, chin up!
Dear Ask the Paperboy,
Does the way we eat corn on the cob (straight across, round and round, or random) indicate anything about our personality?
David from the Calhoun (Georgia) Corn Compound
Dear David,
If only Paperboy had an ear of corn for every time he’s been asked this question. Ask any psychiatrist or psychologist or psycho and they’ll confirm that corn cob eating says tons about personality. To answer, lend me your ear …
The corn on the cob eater who goes in a straight line is your everyday lunch pail, hardhat man or woman. He (or she) is eating what he can see and goes about it workmanlike. The guy who goes round and round is a gambler. He’s counting on there to be a soft place to fall on the other side and, when he makes the turn, more corn is waiting. The random guy who jumps around is a lunatic with no plan; don’t go to the pony races with this one.
One of life’s great pleasures is fresh sweet corn on the cob. If you don’t appreciate corn on the cob at all, then you hate Iowa specifically, the Great Plains in general, and I wouldn’t trust you with my Charley Pride records, Paperboy will tell you that right now. Paperboy will also ask if he can have your ear of corn—and your cornbread. Pass the butter, please. And the floss.
Dear Ask the Paperboy,
I used to live in Shreveport and often drove on the scenic Clyde Fant Parkway, a fine stretch of asphalt. Just who was Clyde Fant and how is his parkway today? Just wondering as random thoughts of long, long past times roll through the noggin.
Inquiringly,
Dipper in Georgia
Dear Dipper,
Lots of Georgia mail today; Georgia is now on Paperboy’s mind.
Mainly Mr. Fant was scratch, and from the back tees too. Played with only three clubs. Didn’t even take an extra ball with him most rounds. Stud.
Other than that he was, I’m told, a friendly sort and a smart man. Two-time Democratic mayor of Shreveport, 1950s and 60s, for 20 years.
His dying words: “I wish I had a parkway and I wish I could have gotten just a little more distance off …” And then he passed. Probably was gonna say “the tee” but some think it could have been “my long iron shots.”
Lost to history, Dipper…
Dear Ask the Paperboy,
A great article I read recently on Sloppy Joes brought back a lot of memories from school. Remember the buns would turn orange from all the grease? Do you remember that or were you involved in a more high-quality Sloppy Joe situation?
Looking for a paper towel,
Rudy in Shreveport
Dear Rudy,
Paperboy grew up with the same grease-stained cafeteria buns. The red-orange glow was like a culinary nightlight. I’m sure we share another memory: throwing them up at football practice.
Dear Ask the Paperboy,
Are you missing sports during the coronavirus goings-on?
Singing in the rain,
Maria in Calhoun (Louisiana)
Dear Melodic Maria,
That’s the spirit! This is by far the longest sports famine any of us has ever endured. An attitude of gratitude wins the day though; it’s tough, but we’ve just got to stick together. Keep running!
Paperboy doesn’t miss the games as much as he misses the things that happen around ball and because of ball. Paperboy was grateful to remember this week a ball story from years ago. A highly favored baseball player named Andre “The Hawk” Dawson was fined $500 for arguing—with a complete lack of grace but with an exceptional amount of flair—a called third strike by home plate umpire “Cowboy” Joe West. The Hawk payed the fine through the league office with a check; his notation in the memo line read “Donation for the Blind.”
Boom.
Paperboy misses that.
-30-