Crazy for Catfish
Years ago, sometime around the mid-1980s, the Catfish Farmers of America asked me if I’d be willing to represent them in the Mobile Mardi Gras parade, where I would ride on a float and reign as Catfish Queen. I was living in Washington, D.C., and writing for , and that sounded (correctly) like something happening on another planet, so I politely declined. Looking back, I find it unimaginable that I did not jump at the chance. My father couldn’t believe it at the time—but then he’s always found the whole concept of what he calls “titled women” wildly entertaining. You know: Miss Pink Tomato, Queen of the Turtle Derby, Poultry Princess, and so on. We have a lot of them down here. Miss Pink Tomato (along with Teen Miss Pink Tomato and Little Miss Pink Tomato) has been crowned every year in Warren,
