I have a new beat, ya'all: Giant Vegetables. Last week it was the Giant Pumpkin Guy. No joke, that's what everyone calls him. He also goes by Sonny. He's older, with an old dog. A widower. The pumpkins are a way for him to keep himself distracted. Twenty of the giants grow in his garden. A week ago it was 450 pounds. I bet its near to 500 pounds by now. He's our local expert, the one all the newbies turn to for help. And when those newbies don't take his advice, they get his friendly ribbing.
The pumpkins grow under tarps to keep the skins from splitting. The vines are tied back to keep the pumpkins from growing onto them. Then there's the Bondo. When the skins get damaged, they have to be repaired with Bondo for pumpkins.
Sonny dreams about his pumpkins, and yet he claims not to be obsessed. The pumpkin growing inside a tire is the result of a dream.
Sonny's pumpkins turn heads. Helicopters and planes fly low overhead to check out his crop. Sonny waves to them. He's usually outside. He has twenty pumpkins to take care of. Do you know the kind of work involved in that? Half hour per pumpkin each day. That's 10 hours a day.
Not to mention the rest of the garden: corn, beets, peppers, tomatoes, eggplant, hot peppers (so hot the Mexican workers from down the road stay away).
So the pumpkin guy made it into the paper. That's where the Tomato Plant Couple got the idea to call about their tomato plant. It reaches 12 feet tall and if the frost holds off, Ida will be able to pick tomatoes from her bedroom window. As it is the plant is just a foot below her window. The plant is thriving in a patch of earth 15 inches by 24 inches. Dominic kept adding tomato cages and there are now 7 of them. Adding more is out of the question. It takes a big ladder and lots of balance and Dominic lacks both.
Ask the couple what they use the tomatoes for and they answer in unison, "Pasta!"
"We're Italian," Ida explains. "We make our own ravioli and gnocchi. He makes a great sauce and I make the dough."
My mouth waters.
"We didn't really think much of it," Ida explains. "Then everyone kept saying, 'Its so big, why don't you tell the paper?' We didn't think anyone would want to know about our tomato plant, but then we saw the Giant Pumpkin Guy . . ."
So it looks like I have new beat. I can't wait for the next giant veggie. What will it be? A zucchini that needs a pallet? A green pepper the size of a basketball?
TARB
Monday, September 10, 2007
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
War and Warriors
I'm not much of a Patriot. I'll admit that. As an LJ or just a J, for that matter, I try not to be politically affiliated. Here's the deal: I don't like being a sheep. I don't like being told what to do or think by others. Democrats, Republicans, I won't follow anyone who tries to manipulate me and they all do.
At my first school board meeting I was asked to lead the group in the Pledge of Allegiance. It was an uncomfortable moment for me. First, I hadn't really said the Pledge in, like, twenty years or more and I couldn't remember how it went - in English. I can say it perfectly in Spanish. Second, when I was in school, I refused to say the Pledge in the first place. It was a personal choice and I didn't make a big deal out of it. I was just irritated that we said it without question about that whole separation of church and state thing. You know, "under God." I'm a history fiend. I looked it up and the original Pledge didn't have the God part. So I just didn't say it. Third, taking oaths and making pledges is against my religion. Leading the school board in the Pledge and violating my religious beliefs - kinda uncomfortable.
In my job as an LJ I have to talk to a lot of people from a lot of different backgrounds. They often surprise me. A VFW Auxiliary woman told me that she wishes President Bush's name was on the Vietnam Wall. "When I see that wall, I wonder, 'How many more walls?'" she said. What a remarkable thing to say.
One of the unenviable parts of my job is asking the really hard questions of people who have already been through enough in their lives. Operation Injured Soldier was founded by an Iraq War Vet. He was severely injured when the fuel truck he was riding in hit an IED. The explosion was devastating. Tony was terribly burned and he lost part of his hand and has burns on his face. The driver of the truck died. "I think about him every day," he told me. "He was just a kid out of basic." I had to ask him about that day. It is the story. "Tony," I said. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I understand, but can you please tell me about that day?" His voice strained with emotion, and he told me about his experience. I was shaking. He ended the interview with a fine quote. "It doesn't matter if you are for or against the war," he said. "This isn't about politics. This is about them."
In this blog I wrote about my encounter with the panel of Vietnam Vets who talked with the High School students. I often think about those kids sitting in perfect silence as one Vet read from his book about being in the war. He wrote about coming home, "home at last, home, home, home." Those Vets talked about those kids going off to war as though it were a forgone conclusion. Through choice or by draft, they will be in war.
I talked politics a little bit with my mother this weekend as she languished in the hospital, waiting for surgery. She hates the war. She always has.
As a Lesser Journalist, I find myself learning about life. I hate the war, too. People don't always have choices. Fighting isn't always cut and dry. I told my mother this: I hate the war, not the warriors. Talk to Tony for a few minutes and that becomes clear. I had one last question before I hung up with him. It just popped into my head and I asked it.
"One last thing, Tony, do you remember the date you were attacked?" He answered without hesitation.
"September 6, 2004. I'll never forget it," he said.
Neither will I.
Maybe being patriotic isn't cut and dry either.
TARB
At my first school board meeting I was asked to lead the group in the Pledge of Allegiance. It was an uncomfortable moment for me. First, I hadn't really said the Pledge in, like, twenty years or more and I couldn't remember how it went - in English. I can say it perfectly in Spanish. Second, when I was in school, I refused to say the Pledge in the first place. It was a personal choice and I didn't make a big deal out of it. I was just irritated that we said it without question about that whole separation of church and state thing. You know, "under God." I'm a history fiend. I looked it up and the original Pledge didn't have the God part. So I just didn't say it. Third, taking oaths and making pledges is against my religion. Leading the school board in the Pledge and violating my religious beliefs - kinda uncomfortable.
In my job as an LJ I have to talk to a lot of people from a lot of different backgrounds. They often surprise me. A VFW Auxiliary woman told me that she wishes President Bush's name was on the Vietnam Wall. "When I see that wall, I wonder, 'How many more walls?'" she said. What a remarkable thing to say.
One of the unenviable parts of my job is asking the really hard questions of people who have already been through enough in their lives. Operation Injured Soldier was founded by an Iraq War Vet. He was severely injured when the fuel truck he was riding in hit an IED. The explosion was devastating. Tony was terribly burned and he lost part of his hand and has burns on his face. The driver of the truck died. "I think about him every day," he told me. "He was just a kid out of basic." I had to ask him about that day. It is the story. "Tony," I said. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I understand, but can you please tell me about that day?" His voice strained with emotion, and he told me about his experience. I was shaking. He ended the interview with a fine quote. "It doesn't matter if you are for or against the war," he said. "This isn't about politics. This is about them."
In this blog I wrote about my encounter with the panel of Vietnam Vets who talked with the High School students. I often think about those kids sitting in perfect silence as one Vet read from his book about being in the war. He wrote about coming home, "home at last, home, home, home." Those Vets talked about those kids going off to war as though it were a forgone conclusion. Through choice or by draft, they will be in war.
I talked politics a little bit with my mother this weekend as she languished in the hospital, waiting for surgery. She hates the war. She always has.
As a Lesser Journalist, I find myself learning about life. I hate the war, too. People don't always have choices. Fighting isn't always cut and dry. I told my mother this: I hate the war, not the warriors. Talk to Tony for a few minutes and that becomes clear. I had one last question before I hung up with him. It just popped into my head and I asked it.
"One last thing, Tony, do you remember the date you were attacked?" He answered without hesitation.
"September 6, 2004. I'll never forget it," he said.
Neither will I.
Maybe being patriotic isn't cut and dry either.
TARB
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