If you are reading this, then it’s too late. I have been
taken against my will. Please send help. I have been hornswoggled. Tricked.
Bamboozled. You are my only hope. I am being held at a place I only know as
“Coloma.” I have been forced into labor. If it was simply manual labor that
would be one thing, but this is something altogether more cruel and unusual. I
am locked in a cabin full of fourth-graders, and apparently, I’m in charge.
What did I do to deserve this?
It’s my wife’s fault, really.
Our elementary school, for reasons known only to the staff,
takes the entire fourth grade on a three-day, two-night excursion to a historic
gold-mining camp every year. Apparently, the fact that Son Number One is a fourth-grader
this year, and he was going off “on his own” for the first time, turns my wife
into a wild, hysterical demon, with glowing red eyes, who grabs you simultaneously
by the throat and the crotch and growls, “You must go,” in a unearthly voice so
chilling it scares the crab cakes out of you.
I gave it a few days, and when the demon possession seemed
to be ebbing slightly, I took the opportunity to point out that Son Number One
could survive for at least three weeks in the wild completely on his own, and that
it was only two nights, and that his teacher would be with him the whole time, along
with many other adults, and that these people would be actually feeding him. It
did nothing to ease her tensions. Something about him being her baby. I pointed
out that Son Number Three was really the baby, and he was already six. Uh-oh.
Glowing red eyes again.
So, what’s a guy to do? Volunteer, that’s what.
There was a fleeting ray of hope, however, in that there
were a limited number of chaperon spots and my name would be entered into a
lottery drawing. If my name was not chosen, it would be completely out of my
hands… How come I never win the actual lottery drawing?
So I have been taken. Dragged behind a school bus full of
unruly nine-year-olds. (Thank the Lord for small favors; at least I wasn’t in the bus.) Kidnapped and held in a
place called Coloma. You may have actually heard of it. It’s the place where
James Marshall first discovered gold in California at Sutter’s Mill in January
of 1848, sparking a feverish gold rush that would culminate in the naming of a
San Francisco football franchise with pendulum-like swings in the quarterback position.
Coloma is probably really nice in late October, and gaggle
of fourth-graders aside, it could be a nice place to visit. Any other time,
that is. I’m sure James Marshall was busy building the mill in October of 1847,
and probably enjoying himself. Do you know why he didn’t mind staying in Coloma
during October? Because there was no baseball World Series in 1847!
There is a World Series now, and my beloved San Francisco
Giants happen to be in it. How often does that happen? (Actually, more often
than you would think, these past few years. Isn’t that right, Dodger fans? Oh,
sorry, sore subject…)
Back in October of 1847, James Marshall didn’t have cell
reception in Coloma. Fast forward to 2014, and neither do I. Coloma,
apparently, never really progressed much past 1849. I guess they have all been
too busy looking for the rest of the gold over the years to focus on much else.
Now, as we know, Marshall didn’t care about cell reception
because history tells us his iPhone was damaged during a river crossing months
before. He never got it fixed because it would be about a hundred and sixty-two
years before the first Apple Store Genius Bar would be built, and about a
hundred and seventy years before they would help the first customer.
Also, he was busy building a sawmill, and besides, he really
didn’t care because there was no World Series at the time. But I can assure
you, if there had been a World Series, and the Giants had been in it, he would
have been down in Sacramento where he could catch the game, gold or no gold.
He could leave. He was free. I am trapped, and the Giants
might destroy Kansas City again tonight. I really want to watch that. Short of
that, I really want to hear regular updates. They won’t let me leave the cabin.
They say I have to stay here and look after all the kids for some reason.
Please send word of the game, however you can.
I think Coloma still accepts news via carrier pigeon, mule
train, and pony express, so any of those would be great.
Go Giants!
See you soon,
-Smidge
Copyright © 2014 Marc Schmatjen
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