I know that at least one reader of this blog will admit to being 50 years old or older. For that one person I would like to go back to a time when you and I were kids. We played cowboys and Indians. Everyone had their own cap gun and some of us had caps to shoot in the guns. It wasn’t illegal in those day to play like you killed your friend or play like you got killed by a friend.
There were no rich people in the neighborhood I lived in, and they were not extremely poor. I can remember my dad got paid every two weeks and every week we would go to the grocery store on Friday evening. Occasionally my parents would by a carton of sodas. Yes there were six sodas in a carton but they did not refer to it as, a six pack.
We were not allowed to go get a soda and drink it, there had to be a reason like, mom had made a bowl of popcorn. We (my brother and I) were not given a whole soda, we were given half a soda in a glass with ice.
There was a tire swing in the neighbor’s tree. It was just an old car tire tied to a tree limb with a big rope that had been used to tie up barges on the Mississippi river. The tree this tire swing was in grew at the end of their drive way next to their house. This swing was one of our favorite places to hang out, pun intended.
The drive ways to everyone’s house was gravel and dirt. We use to play with toy cars in the dirt and gravel of the drive ways. We couldn’t help but get dirty but I don’t remember taking baths except on Saturday night. Just because I don’t remember the baths doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.
At the very back of our yards there was and old alley way that was no longer used. There were several trees that we could climb in and I remember the brave thing to do was to climb in one tree and then crawl across a limb from one tree to the other. No one ever fell out of either tree.
There was also a tall wild cherry tree and if you climbed to the top you could see the bridge that crossed the Mississippi river which was a couple miles away.
Behind our house my dad had a garden. It seemed as if he planted some of everything in the garden but what I remember most was the tomatoes.
I remember going out to the garden and finding a ripe tomato. This tomato would be a dark red, smooth skinned, firm to the touch and just a little bigger than a hand full.
When I would find this perfect tomato I would carefully pull it from the vine. I would look it over carefully to be sure there was no bad spots or worm holes, and then I would begin to wipe it off on my shirt.
Carefully wiping the tomato on ones shirt, would remove any dirt. It was now ready to be eaten. I can still remember taking a bite from the fresh tomato, it was warm and the juice would usually run down my chin and onto my hands. The only part that wasn’t eaten was where the tomato attached to the vine.
I guess the above description was a long way of saying my grandkids may have a similar memory now.
This morning Alex and I were out at the garden picking peppers. As we walked around the garden spot there were several green tomatoes on the vines. Then we saw it, there was one red tomato way down deep at the bottom of one vine. Alex tried to get it but could not reach it, so I went after it.
This tomato brought back childhood memories of eating a fresh tomato right from the garden. I decided to let the grandkids have this tomato. I did take it into the house and showed my present wife. I washed it and we cut it in half. We cut the stem out and I went outside and offered it to the kids. Each ate their half and they had tomato juice on their face hands and arms.
They used the garden hose to clean up.
Hopefully this will be one of those memories they will have, of eating a ripe tomato out of the grandparent’s garden, long after I am gone.
May all your tomatoes be fresh from the garden, warm and juicy!
(Stop drooling, someone will not understand that you are thinking of tomatoes and want to put you in a home.)
Don Ford
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