What is up with Covington these days? For a little podunk town, there sure is a lot of crime there lately. First there was the counterfeit million dollar bill scam, exposed with the help of ever-vigilant Wal-Mart cashiers. Then their ex-mayor and former city council member got arrested for shoplifting - AGAIN. If I recall correctly, her first shoplifting arrest (at Belk) is what prompted her resignation - that is, the acting mayor was out and about, doing some shoplifting. What I found so weird about this latest incident was, she got arrested stealing a three-dollar bracelet from Cato. I’m not saying I would never, never, never shoplift anything, but I am saying I would never, never, never steal a three-dollar bracelet from Cato. If I ever start blogging from jail, where I’m doing time on a shoplifting rap, you will know it’s because I got caught with half a million in ice from Cartier stuffed in my purse, not no three dollar plastic bracelet.
In Covington news today, we have the story of Vasile Chorba - not a Covington native but a Russian immigrant, which I’m sure you’d never have guessed, ‘Vasile’ being such a popular name in small Southern towns - who made the news because he sledgehammered his wife to death, the meanie. He then slit his wrists in an unsuccessful suicide bid. On WSB radio this morning, Sheriff’s Sergeant Mark Mitchell provided an update! “Right now, we don’t have a why, uh...a why this happened.” ‘Motive’, honeybunch - the word for which you fumble is ‘motive’. You’d think even if he didn’t learn about motive in cop school, he’d have picked it up from Law and Order reruns.
My parents still live in Covington, where my mother knows everybody and assumes I do, too. My mom will argue with me for hours about whether or not I know someone. I’ll be over, hanging out one weekend, and she’ll say, “Oh, angel, I meant to tell you. Frankie Wainwright died last week. The funeral was Saturday."
Me: Uh...that’s too bad. Who’s Frankie Wainwright?
Mom: (semi-snort of impatience) You know Frankie!
Me: No, I don’t. At least I don’t think I do - is Frankie a girl or a guy?
Mom: (archly) He was a gentleman, and you’ve known him all your life.
Me: Mama, I have never heard of any Frankie Wainwright.
Mom: You have too! His second cousin Leonard was your kindergarten teacher’s first husband!
Me: [thinking: cannot admit to not remembering kindergarten teacher or kindergarten teacher’s name, much less kindergarten teacher’s first husband] Uh...yeah, Mom. Sure.
It’s not over yet, though, because my mom has excellent mom-radar. She is not fooled by my half-hearted “sure” and knows I’m not really admitting that I now recall the dear departed Frankie Wainwright.
Mom: You went to school with Frankie’s niece Sophie who was, oh, five or six grades ahead of you! [Like I even remember half the people in the same grade as I was, much less OLD people. I look blank so she continues.] We're related to the Wainwrights, too, through the Hayeses on Frankie's mother's granddaddy's side...let me see...oh, yes, and Frankie's aunt, she was a Connolly from down Starrsville way, married your cousin Alec.
Me: [thinking: Alec? I have a cousin Alec? I have a cousin Rick, I like Rick, but Alec, who the hell is ALEC? Oh, no, don’t say anything! Freeze facial expression! Don’t let her know! If she suspects you don’t know, she’ll EXPLAIN IT!]
Mom: (louder, more impatient sound) Alll-eck. Your cousin, ALEC. You remember Alec. He went to Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College down in Tifton, he married that girl, she was a Calhoun but not a Charleston Calhoun, she was from Boston...did something artistic, a painter or a sculptor or something...what did that girl do? I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter, anyway - that didn’t work out and he moved to Macon but once he married Geneva, they moved back here, lived out on 213 near her folks...
Geneva?!? Who the hell is Geneva?!? Of course, if you were paying attention you’d know that Geneva is Geneva Connolly, Frankie Wainwright’s aunt, but before you ask, there’s no point in paying a condolence call to Geneva, because
Mom: Oh honey she’s DEAD. She died back in '88 or '89, your Aunt Betty would know, they were in school together. Had a wreck on the Yellow River Bridge in the pouring rain, coming back from the Hiawassee State Fair. Gram and Granddaddy and I took you to the Hiawassee State Fair one year, do you remember? [at my blank look] You ate that barbecue sandwich that made you sick. Your cousin Melanie was in the clogging competition!
Me: [thinking: Holy crap, I have a cousin Melanie?!? One who clogs?!? Who the hell is MELANIE?!?]
Mom: Don’t TELL me you don’t remember Melanie! You went swimming in their pool! At their old house when they lived over off Elks Club Road, not where they lived after they moved back from Cincinnati...
Mom, you can’t get mad about this - you know it’s true. Anyone care to lay odds that right this minute, my mom is writing an e-mail to me explaining how I either went to school with, am related to, lived near a relative of or otherwise ought to know Sheriff's Sergeant Mark Mitchell?
MONTOYA DELENDA EST!
In Covington news today, we have the story of Vasile Chorba - not a Covington native but a Russian immigrant, which I’m sure you’d never have guessed, ‘Vasile’ being such a popular name in small Southern towns - who made the news because he sledgehammered his wife to death, the meanie. He then slit his wrists in an unsuccessful suicide bid. On WSB radio this morning, Sheriff’s Sergeant Mark Mitchell provided an update! “Right now, we don’t have a why, uh...a why this happened.” ‘Motive’, honeybunch - the word for which you fumble is ‘motive’. You’d think even if he didn’t learn about motive in cop school, he’d have picked it up from Law and Order reruns.
My parents still live in Covington, where my mother knows everybody and assumes I do, too. My mom will argue with me for hours about whether or not I know someone. I’ll be over, hanging out one weekend, and she’ll say, “Oh, angel, I meant to tell you. Frankie Wainwright died last week. The funeral was Saturday."
Me: Uh...that’s too bad. Who’s Frankie Wainwright?
Mom: (semi-snort of impatience) You know Frankie!
Me: No, I don’t. At least I don’t think I do - is Frankie a girl or a guy?
Mom: (archly) He was a gentleman, and you’ve known him all your life.
Me: Mama, I have never heard of any Frankie Wainwright.
Mom: You have too! His second cousin Leonard was your kindergarten teacher’s first husband!
Me: [thinking: cannot admit to not remembering kindergarten teacher or kindergarten teacher’s name, much less kindergarten teacher’s first husband] Uh...yeah, Mom. Sure.
It’s not over yet, though, because my mom has excellent mom-radar. She is not fooled by my half-hearted “sure” and knows I’m not really admitting that I now recall the dear departed Frankie Wainwright.
Mom: You went to school with Frankie’s niece Sophie who was, oh, five or six grades ahead of you! [Like I even remember half the people in the same grade as I was, much less OLD people. I look blank so she continues.] We're related to the Wainwrights, too, through the Hayeses on Frankie's mother's granddaddy's side...let me see...oh, yes, and Frankie's aunt, she was a Connolly from down Starrsville way, married your cousin Alec.
Me: [thinking: Alec? I have a cousin Alec? I have a cousin Rick, I like Rick, but Alec, who the hell is ALEC? Oh, no, don’t say anything! Freeze facial expression! Don’t let her know! If she suspects you don’t know, she’ll EXPLAIN IT!]
Mom: (louder, more impatient sound) Alll-eck. Your cousin, ALEC. You remember Alec. He went to Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College down in Tifton, he married that girl, she was a Calhoun but not a Charleston Calhoun, she was from Boston...did something artistic, a painter or a sculptor or something...what did that girl do? I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter, anyway - that didn’t work out and he moved to Macon but once he married Geneva, they moved back here, lived out on 213 near her folks...
Geneva?!? Who the hell is Geneva?!? Of course, if you were paying attention you’d know that Geneva is Geneva Connolly, Frankie Wainwright’s aunt, but before you ask, there’s no point in paying a condolence call to Geneva, because
Mom: Oh honey she’s DEAD. She died back in '88 or '89, your Aunt Betty would know, they were in school together. Had a wreck on the Yellow River Bridge in the pouring rain, coming back from the Hiawassee State Fair. Gram and Granddaddy and I took you to the Hiawassee State Fair one year, do you remember? [at my blank look] You ate that barbecue sandwich that made you sick. Your cousin Melanie was in the clogging competition!
Me: [thinking: Holy crap, I have a cousin Melanie?!? One who clogs?!? Who the hell is MELANIE?!?]
Mom: Don’t TELL me you don’t remember Melanie! You went swimming in their pool! At their old house when they lived over off Elks Club Road, not where they lived after they moved back from Cincinnati...
Mom, you can’t get mad about this - you know it’s true. Anyone care to lay odds that right this minute, my mom is writing an e-mail to me explaining how I either went to school with, am related to, lived near a relative of or otherwise ought to know Sheriff's Sergeant Mark Mitchell?
MONTOYA DELENDA EST!
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