Articles:
The Legacy of The Tomato
A tomato will never again be just a tomato. To me it will be a connection to roots which grow deep in my soul. A connection to a special person. A man who taught me respect for the land and for people. A man who preferred a quiet garden, the gentle aroma of pipe tobacco and a warm breeze for companionship. A man who never sought attention for himself. Instead he preferred others in the spotlight.
I remember walking, as a young boy, in neat rows of tomatoes. Each plant cleanly pruned, with careful mounds of rich soil protecting its base. The string he tied the plants with was always carefully trimmed. Many an endless question I asked as he worked in his garden. I can't remember when he didn't slow down to answer me.
His garden was a marvel of organization but he was always spontaneous about tending it. A place for storing poles used for tying tomatoes and beans. A carefully networked plumbing system so water could be brought to plants in every corner of the garden. In the greenhouse, there were old grape boxes used to start seedlings. In the shed under the garage bushels, rakes, pitch forks, shovels, knives, pruning tools, hoes, and a plant sprayer waited their turn. As he walked in his garden his keen eye was on the lookout for a broken branch, an overgrown plant that needed thinning, or an area that needed extra water. When he saw it, he simply took care of it.
Many a night after supper, we'd go down to "look at the garden." Nonno-grandpa in Italian- would bend over and pull a weed here, straighten a pole there. We'd walk slowly through the sections just looking around together. No hurry. No schedule. Sometimes he'd stop right in his tracks and light his pipe. When I'd tire of walking, I'd take off running. He never seemed to worry about me wrecking his careful work. I believe he saw me as a little plant starting to grow, too. He gave me such freedom. Even if it meant a few mistakes that cost him time and energy. He didn't have money but he had plenty of time and energy.
Through his 85th year he still started lettuce and onion sets early so they could be in the ground ahead of schedule. And it didn't matter what he planted he had respect for the life within.
The last few years he slowed down and the garden got smaller. Multiple rows and varieties of peppers were replaced by a few pepper plants. Sections of Romaine and Chicory gave way to a few heads of each. The towering pole beans that he was so proud of never made it into the ground. The cabbage, squash and cucumbers we ate together on Saturday nights came from Stop & Shop instead of Nonno's garden. He never complained about it though. His work worn hands were bent around a cane and his time outside was just for a little fresh air. But he still enjoyed walking past the few tomatoes he had in the ground.
I remember losing my patience with my own children when they knocked a few of those tomatoes to the ground. He looked up at me with the warmest, smiling eyes, "Leave 'em alone, their only kids," he said softly.
He was a very special man. He taught me about things that grow. He loved me without condition. It's a unique relationship between a grandfather and his grandchildren.
I'll always remember him on his knees with those little tomato plants in his hands. He'd hold them gently so they wouldn't be bruised. Then he'd carefully prepare the soil and place them tenderly in the ground. He gave them everything they needed and then he calmly watched them grow. He did the same for me.
He's in another garden now. My bet is he'll be leaning on a shovel lighting that old corn cob pipe. And his eyes will still be smiling.
I miss those eyes. I learned to see so much of the world through them.
Everbody's Talking
Who knows what today will bring? Hope. Desire. Knowledge. Good. Evil. Indifference? One thing we know for sure. It will bring a barrage of people talking. A day doesn't go by without dozens or maybe hundreds of opinions reaching our ears.
For example, I hear people use the following logic. Most terrorists are Muslim. Terrorists are evil. Therefore Muslims are evil. And I've heard people say it with undisguised hatred. The irony is inescapable. They use the same poor reasoning to condemn individuals they don't know, as the terrorists use in condemning all Americans.
Where does that come from? Maybe from being taught not to think. Maybe from accepting what "authorities" say without question. It comes from being taught to react without careful consideration. It comes from thinking you have all the information and don't need any help to make an intelligent assessment. "The heck with the facts I have my opinion and that's good enough for me."
What would it be like if we waited for the best thing to say? Not just any thing, but the best thing. It would take conscious effort to overcome the easy way, but the benefits are obvious.
For example: I have come to believe that writing is good for me. Each day I know that I am better when I do it. Yet, each day I struggle for motivation to start the process. Once started the words, thoughts, and even the keys clicking helps me keep going. But if I don't start, other things, which require little or no effort, take over.
What I take from that is the harder it is to start something, the more important it may be. Of course, as in most cases, the rule has exceptions. But for the most part it is true. It's easier to grab the remote than to pick up a book by Dickens or Moody. It's easier to grab a frozen pop than to prepare vegetables and dip. It's easier to react than to slow down and hold off "opinionizing".
Let's just say I've managed to get it right. I still have to get outside my own limited knowledge. And, in my opinion, if you think your knowledge is not limited you are either a fool or a bore.
I'm talking about getting past gut reaction. I have plenty of gut reactions and they are often ill informed. "That guy got what he deserved." "That country is full of miscreants." That happened because..." Then I fill in the blanks with my biases and limited knowledge.
It's taken me fifty-three years, a catalog of mistaken impressions, a humbling life experience or two and an abiding faith that God's wisdom is superior to mine to be able to admit that. Which brings me to the point-everybody's talking, but do we know what we're talking about?
One of the reasons I am a Christian is that I see Jesus challenging people to think for themselves. God invites examination. "Taste and see that the Lord is good." (Psalm 34:8) More than that He says do the things I tell you and see for yourselves. He echoes the Old Testament in challenging the individual to choose. "Choose this day whom you will serve." (Deut. 30.19) You choose. I won't choose for you. I respect you enough to invite you to make your own choices. But make them well-informed choices. Jesus not only taught it, He did it. In a time when the Samaritans were considered an inferior race by the "authorities in the know." Jesus ignored their opinions and went and spoke to the Samaritan woman at the well and He simply told her the truth. He did it because He knew the prevailing opinion was just wrong.
We've seen an overwhelming tragedy as the ocean washed away families, homes and entire towns. We're rushing to donate millions of dollars. We don't see the Muslim, the Christian, or the Jew. We see human beings suffering. And we want to help. Not for recognition or personal gain. Just to reach out to fellow human beings.
Why is it easy to do that? And in the next moment dismiss all Palestinians, Syrians, Iranians, Southerners, Northerners, Episcopalians, Protestants, Catholics, Jews, uneducated...the list goes on. The answer is because it's easier that's why. It takes effort to understand someone from a different culture. It takes effort to know someone who worships differently than you do. It requires work to look outside for help. It's not easy to ask God to help you see as He sees. To ask Him to give you eyes of compassion and ears willing to listen. It's not the first thing that pops to mind. But it may well be the best thing.
Everyone's talking but just because someone says something doesn't make it true. Remember the old saying: "talk is cheap." Maybe that's because so much of it is just hot air. We can change that one person at a time.
Or we can go for the remote and leave "well enough" alone.
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