For those of you who thought I would run out of stories after putting a couple out there, you would be wrong. But, let me tell you a secret - I've told some of these before! But, the best thing about stories you retell? You can improve how you tell them!
I hope you enjoy this one!
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Rob would occasionally work for Grandpa
Faux for week-long stints during the summer, painting, cutting
down weeds
and being an accomplice in semi-frequent "drive-by vegetabling"
trips. We sometimes wonder if Robin Williams in Mrs Doubtfire heard us
call it a drive-by vegetabling or if he came up with the "drive-by
fruiting" on his own. We're guessing the latter.
In order to better understand the beauty
of the arrangement, some background may be in order.
Grandpa was
a contractor
(cement and other general contracting) who had a workshop near
the edge of
town. He also grew up on a farm. Needless to say, some of the
land around
the shop was pressed into service as a place to grow some
peppers, squash
and other vegetables.
Most of the plants he chose to grow were
things
that were easy to pick quickly, but were likely to produce more
than he
could, or would, eat. In fact, I remember a time that we
brought some veggies to a restaurant he frequented and he gave it to them
and asked if they would prepare a specific meal for him - and they did
it. On the flip side, I also remember he did some work for them when
they needed it too, so I'm sure the trade was a good one from their perspective.
If I could ask him, I bet he'd confirm that he grew Black Beauty zucchini! |
So, what to do with extra zucchini?
My
grandparents lived in a trailer court, and these places often become a
community of their own. This particular community had a number of
retirees who lived on fixed incomes. Surely these people might enjoy
fresh produce once and a while.
Of course, Grandpa was happy to share
the excess freely with those he knew. So, what exactly, is the problem with this
situation? Person with extra produce meets those wanting some produce.
Sounds good, right?
Ok, you've forgotten something. Remember Aunt <fill a name you want here>? You know, the one who would try to give you money for everything and anything - especially when you were trying to be nice and provide a gift?
Or, is this an Iowegian thing? I'm not sure, but I do remember the struggle to do the right thing with another relative. She would always want to give a dollar or two to each of the kids for whatever reason when we visited. A seven-year old kid is going to have a difficult time looking at a dollar bill and not be happy to take it.
Of course,
manners dictate that you should
not accept the money.
The resulting tumult of repeated offers to pay/give cash and
refusals to accept
payment/said gift could become tedious, frustrating,
uncomfortable and...well...
you get the idea.
So.... back to the story at hand.
Entering the picture is a grandchild who is
capable of dashing from the cab of the truck, to the front door with a
bag of produce and back to the truck in a few seconds. After all, he did need to stay in shape for baseball.
Grandpa Faux looked at me one day and said, "Let's go to the shop."
Grandpa Faux looked at me one day and said, "Let's go to the shop."
Hey, he's my
ride, I couldn't exactly say no. So, we went to the shop. We trudged out to
the long single row of plants and he gave instructions on what to
pick. Once we'd picked it all, we went back to the trailer and put the
excess into paper bags because we had some 'errands' to run before we
went to dinner ourselves.
I am positive Grandpa enjoyed this game more than he let on. But, I'll tell you this, I took it as serious business. I was NOT going to get caught and I was going to make each delivery without squashing any squish (yes, you read that right)!
I am positive Grandpa enjoyed this game more than he let on. But, I'll tell you this, I took it as serious business. I was NOT going to get caught and I was going to make each delivery without squashing any squish (yes, you read that right)!
He'd stop in front of a place and
tell me where to put the bag. I'd run up to the target home, rap
quickly on the front door or ring the doorbell and dash back to the
truck. This was followed by burning rubber (ok,
I exaggerate a bit there) as we zipped away.
There it is, the
anatomy of a drive-by vegetabling.
As I look back on it, I am not sure who was having more fun - me, Grandpa...or the people who began trying to anticipate when we would arrive so they could find some way to catch us. In one case, we noticed someone peaking out through the blinds of their window as we pulled up. So, Grandpa sped back up and we went on. We drove up on the road that was a block away and he gave me instructions to run through the backyard and then slip it onto the front porch. Then, once the delivery was dropped off, we drove around the front so we could wave as they picked up the bag from their porch.
I realize now that I only did this a few times since I only stayed with him for a week at a time twice a summer while I was in high school and early college years. But, I still remember the joy of giving - with a little bit of "daring do" to put an edge on it.
As I look back on it, I am not sure who was having more fun - me, Grandpa...or the people who began trying to anticipate when we would arrive so they could find some way to catch us. In one case, we noticed someone peaking out through the blinds of their window as we pulled up. So, Grandpa sped back up and we went on. We drove up on the road that was a block away and he gave me instructions to run through the backyard and then slip it onto the front porch. Then, once the delivery was dropped off, we drove around the front so we could wave as they picked up the bag from their porch.
I realize now that I only did this a few times since I only stayed with him for a week at a time twice a summer while I was in high school and early college years. But, I still remember the joy of giving - with a little bit of "daring do" to put an edge on it.
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