For those of you who don’t know, the Wise County commissioners meet twice a month. After each one, I write a story outlining their discussions and any action they take. I’ll be the first to admit these are not the most exciting stories to read, but it is important to report what happens at the meetings because the commissioners put your tax dollars to work.

There are some details that don’t make it into the story, though. They usually don’t directly relate to the business at hand but will often make you laugh, or at least shake your head in wonder. I decided I shouldn’t be the only one having so much fun, so at least once a month, I’ll post commissioners’ outtakes.

Here’s the first edition:

Public Works director Tom Goode always puts a funny picture on the cover of his report. This was the image from the Nov. 10 meeting. Yikes!

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Precinct 3 commissioner Mikel Richardson has my favorite ringtone. It’s a turkey gobbling and at the end - you hear a gunshot.

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At a recent meeting there was discussion about the NCTCOG’s RTC and its involvement in the MPO – a mouthful of acronyms for anyone. Precinct 1 commissioner Danny White was mildly annoyed and confused by the list of letters, as we all were, but as he grew antsy Judge Bill McElhaney said, “We’ve got to give Mr. White his blood pressure medicine or his eyes will start crossing.”

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No doubt, these guys have a little fun. Check back after the Nov. 30 meeting for the “news” that didn’t make the paper.

I began working for the Messenger when I was just 16. I first worked after school as part of a mentor program kindly arranged by Roy Eaton and my English teacher, James Bell.

By the summer, I was a full-fledged intern. The folks at the Messenger were generous and allowed me to write news and feature stories, in addition to the more typical intern tasks like typing obits, making corrections and photographing giant vegetables.

That’s right. During my summer internships here, I was the official giant vegetable and/or fruit photographer. I took many pictures of giddy gardeners and the fruit of their labor. If anyone grew an abnormally large squash or a gigantic watermelon, they would tote it to the Messenger’s office for a photo-op.

Now I’ll be honest. Taking pictures of giant vegetables was not my favorite thing to do. In fact, I began to loathe it. During my last summer, I received a note to call a gardener on Trinity Street in Decatur who had grown an enormous tomato.

I didn’t call him back right away. I put it off for weeks. Keep in mind, his home was just a few blocks away from the office. It would have only taken 10 minutes to run down the street and snap a picture.

About August, the guilt overwhelmed me and I called the gardener with the enormous tomato. But it was too late. The tomato was gone and the vine was burned and scorched by the sun.

I had shirked my duties, and the county was deprived of seeing one gardener’s pride and joy. Maybe a giant tomato wasn’t important to me, but I’m sure it meant a lot to the gardener that tended its vines and lovingly watered it.

I recently came across a book that reminded me of those days — Backyard Giants by Susan Warren. Warren follows pumpkin growers in “the passionate, heartbreaking and glorious quest to grow the biggest pumpkin ever.”

It’s on my bookshelf at home and as soon as I read it, I’ll report back. I’m thinking these gourds may be a bit bigger than anything I ever saw in Wise County.

“Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the postmen from their appointed rounds.”

Most of us are familiar with this phrase that is often associated with mail carriers.  And while weather may not hinder them, apparently new buildings do.

It was mentioned in commissioners’ court Monday that the mail carrier that delivers the county’s mail to the new courthouse annex in Bridgeport refuses to bring the mail inside the building. The carrier has suggested they put a box outside on the street.

Doesn’t seem like too much to ask, right? Surely county employees could walk from their building to the street to retrieve mail. But, wait. Think of all the sensitive documents that are sent to Justice of the Peace Clay Poynor and other offices in the building. Should those sit, unprotected in a mailbox where anyone on the street can swipe them?

According to county officials, when questioned about the issue, the mail carrier has insisted that he has the “final say-so,” and he says “no.” He will not bring it inside.

Precinct 1 commissioner Danny White, who was also a longtime postman, said this particular carrier does take mail into other businesses.

“If you take the mail into one business within the city limits of Bridgeport,” he said. “I don’t know how you can refuse to carry it into another.”

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On a side note, the actual “rain, snow or sleet” quote on which the above variation is based is this:

“Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”
— Herodotus, Greek historian and traveler

The quote is engraved on the outside of the New York City Post Office, and Herodotus said this about 2,500 years ago during a war between the Greeks and Persians. He was referring to the Persian mounted postal couriers that he observed and admired.

While we take our jobs of reporting the news seriously, everyone in the Messenger newsroom relishes a good practical joke. And we’ve all been the victim or perpetrator at one time or another.

Just this morning reporter Travis Measley arrived to find a random coffee cup glued to his desk.  A dirty coffee cup. We suggested just throwing some pens in it and calling it good, but he was not happy until he had ripped it from the laminate desktop and deposited it in the kitchen dishwasher – where it belonged in the first place.

Sports editor Robert Morgan had a gigantic calculator that he faithfully used to tabulate all those sports statistics. But the keys were a little sticky after Travis and Mandy encased it in red Jello.

One day I arrived to work and was literally startled to find a photo of a woman body builder, all tan and glistening, as the background on my computer screen.  Thank you, Mandy and Travis.

Having access to various computer programs and office supply equipment also has it perks when planning the ultimate prank. A certain office supply worker once had her head “photo shopped” onto the body of a “Maxim” cover model, and people are always unplugging keyboards, printers and other necessary equipment.

One day a Xerox repair man was scheduled to come to the Messenger to fix a copy machine. Prior to his arrival, former employee Travis Ivy placed donuts in the paper tray. “Well, there’s your problem right there,” he told Vice President Mark Jordan, who was most likely embarrassed by the unlikely appearance of pastries.

But not to worry. We’re much kinder to our customers and news sources; we keep our pranks within the Messenger family.