Augusta's Fred

I have a soft spot for August, Ga. My grandfather's dentures are buried there in a back yard on Baker Avenue. They are tucked away behind the house where I learned that when Grandma is trying to rent out property, you don't complain about fleas biting your ankles.

I am a critter magnet. Fleas love me as much as the dogs and cats who share them. Mosquitoes love me, too. When I tell others that mosquitoes are out, they deny it. Truth is, my fragrant skin stands as a fully loaded buffet while theirs, I assume, bears the appeal of forgotten limp carrots and festered celery.

Two weeks ago, I traveled to Augusta to talk mosquitoes with Fred Koehle, head of mosquito control for Richmond County. He is 76 years old. The point in pointing it out is that you'd never guess.

I first found Fred on Goggle as I ferreted out the frustration that badly kept swimming pools present to mosquito control districts. Fred's name popped up linked to pool owners getting thrown in jail. 

I emailed Fred to ask about pools and jails. He emailed back that he'd talk if I made it clear that the courts, not Fred, were the element casting offenders behind bars. I agreed.

When we met, Fred didn't introduce himself as 76 years old, but it came up quickly in conversation. Fred believes in the power of age. In a 50-year career in restaurant staff and management training, Fred empowered staff, emphasized follow through, and appreciated good work.

Fred hires seasonal workers who are retired from other careers. They like the part-time work, show up every day and have a steadying influence with the public. They can also coax their grandchildren into dressing up like mosquitoes for local parades where bystanders cheer Fred and his mosquito staff and call to them by name.

And here I venture off into a bit of my own thinking on why to hire experience over youth. I bet Fred and his workers understand how a marriage can go so bad that the guts of a house--its sofas, tables and large screen television can get thrown into a pool in an attempt to salve raw hurt. I also bet they can feel the embarrassment of a job loss so crushing that a homeowner lives in a mansion yet scrambles to buy milk. That person, in that moment, can't scrape up the cash to fix the pool pump--a job that six months ago, the 'pool guy' now gone would have tended to.

In neither case would Fred or his crew excuse mosquito breeding habitat. Problems need to be fixed and consequence of court lingers. But who would a property owner rather talk to--Fred and company or a young summer worker never hit hard by life.

I write it again: Fred doesn't put anyone in jail. Mosquito control refers the worst offenders to the county, the marshal issues the summons and the court hears the case. Fred brings evidence to court and judge decides what's to be done. Often, with Fred's concurrence, the court will give the offender more time.

Mosquito work fills Fred's life. After 49 years of marriage, Fred is a widower. He is grateful for his friends and how he has been able to grow mosquito control into a healthier Augusta.

A near constant stream of people stop by Fred's office. I hear "thank you," "I appreciate it" and "I'll do that for you." Gratitude is big at the mosquito office. And Fred also thanks, by letter, pool owners who clean up their problem.

Pulling out his I-phone, Fred shows me before and after photos of pools. He also shows me a photo of his new kitchen sink. His wife liked stainless steel, he wanted something different. Now the sink is different. Fred's life is different, too.