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Milking This Contest For All It's Worth

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By TOM JACKSON

tjackson@tampatrib.com

Published: February 18, 2009

DADE CITY - Emma Jones, wearing pewter ringlets, matching slacks and a maroon satin blouse, was already having the Monday of her entire 56 years when she presented herself at the check-in desk at the Barthle Livestock Pavilion and said, imperially, "Put me in."

After all, what's the point of being co-grand marshal of the Pasco County Fair parade if you can't issue orders at the county fair? Clearly, there was no reason the regal Mrs. Jones could come up with, and so here she came, kicking up sawdust and determined to join the field of the 2009 Celebrity Milk-Off.

Never mind that that the regularly scheduled descent into mayhem is that variety of celebrity events in which, as humorist Dave Barry observed, all the celebrities require name tags. Nor that announcement of the event's date creates an annual spike in Web travel site activity as potential invitees suddenly remember their pledge to take a first-quarter family skiing vacation.

None of this deterred Emma Jones, of Carver Heights and Calvary Assembly of God - not necessarily in that order. By random drawing, this alto in the Sunday choir and carpool driver had had her name plucked from obscurity for the singular honor of riding in the parade's second car, and she wasn't about to surrender her moment in the spotlight.

Applying Life's Lessons

One of nine children reared by a single parent across the CSX tracks in what Dade City folks call "The Country," Albert Jones' one and only future wife grew up understanding how to do for herself and her family, not least of all by applying a process well-known in the medical field: See one, do one, teach one.

That, to the best of her recollection, explains her enviable expertise around large farm animals. Nobody taught her how to milk a cow; she learned by watching, then doing.

Less than an hour after she invoked royal privilege to join the field of about four dozen, Mrs. Jones landed in the six-member finale, joining assorted ringers - er, cattlemen - a hospital administrator and, unaccountably, a certain citified columnist from a midsized metropolitan daily.

When the showdown concluded, and she had squirted 450 milliliters into the narrow opening of a white jug, Mrs. Jones declared herself pleased, if not contented. The two gentlemen from the cattle industry - Earl Singletary and Buddy Rowland - owners of substantially larger hands, squeezed her out; applying delicate hands to her thumb-holds-still, fingers-do-the-work method, Mrs. Jones finished as the second runner-up.

"I want to come back next year," she announced, "and milk for first place."

Lightning In A Bottle

Otherwise, there was chagrin aplenty to go around. In the battle of county commissioners, Jack Mariano, a scratch handicapper with a set of TaylorMade golf clubs at hand, couldn't match Ted Schrader of Pasco's agricultural Schraders. Said Mariano, "Let me get him on a golf course."

Clerk of the court Paula O'Neil, appearing for the first time as an incumbent, described her experience as much more satisfying than last year's, when she competed as a candidate uncertain about future invitations. Dade City Mayor-emeritus Hutch Brock wondered about another incumbent: "Where's Scott Black?"

As for the columnist, as this is written, the 10-inch, fifth runner-up trophy stands on a nearby shelf, a symbol reasserting the truth of blind hogs and acorns.

Tom Jackson can be reached at (813) 948-4219.

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