Drive-by Vegetabling - Faux Real Story Week

 

I 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. 

But, I think I've gotten ahead of myself.  Let me provide you with a little bit of background to help the story go down easier.  And, you've got your hot chocolate too, right?  Take a sip and settle in.

 

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 did he do with extra zucchini, peppers and other veggies?  He certainly was not the sort of person who would let perfectly good produce go to waste.

 

Well, my grandparents lived in a trailer court at the time, and these places often become a community of their own.  This particular court had a significant number of retirees who lived on fixed incomes.  Surely those people would appreciate and enjoy fresh produce!

 

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 in the name 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?

Is this an Iowa 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 money being offered and not be happy to take it.  But we absolutely KNEW that we were expected to decline.

In fact, we knew that part of the game was to protest - sometimes vigorously - that you would NOT take the money.  So we did that.

 

Manners, and maybe tradition, dictated that we should not accept the money.  Just as it appeared to be a tradition to try to foist the money off on the children.  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.  My Grandfather did NOT want to deal with that scenario because there most certainly were a number of Aunt <fill in your name heres> in the trailer court!  They were going to want to play the game of "I want to pay you/no I don't want any money" for however long it was going to take.  And these people played for keeps!  Or... um... gives?  I don't know.  Grandpa knew they wouldn't give up easily, we'll just leave it at that.
 

I entered the picture as a grandchild who was 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, I did need to stay in shape for baseball.  

 

So, Grandpa Faux would look at me and say, "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 (very) 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)!  

 

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.