FREE PUMPKINS

While watching the news there was a story about someone smashing a lot of pumpkins in a farmers field. For some reason it triggered a memory from many years ago. You know, one of those stories where you laugh and smile every time you think about it. But this is now, not then.
My family had moved to a new home during the summer. I had just entered 7th grade. I don't remember the exact details and I am sure all five of us have a different take on it, but here goes.

Someone in the neighborhood told us about a farmers field up the road a ways that had free pumpkins. We were told they were wild and the farmer had already taken the ones to market that he wanted. Apparently, this is where all the neighbors got their pumpkins. I don't remember which one of us told our mother, but she loaded us up in the station wagon and off we went.

Sure enough, off of the side of the road was a pumpkin patch. We piled out of the car and we picked out pumpkins. We were so excited. It was not normal for our family to have such large or so many pumpkins. We headed home thinking we had struck it rich.

We'll our elation was short lived. We had this neighbor, you know the kind. The adult trouble maker. The one you avoid. The one who enjoys getting the kids in the neighborhood in trouble and enjoys watching them get into trouble. And guess what, she was OUR next door neighbor. You would think she was an ornery old cantankerous grump. But NO, she was in her early twenties.

We were all just old enough to be too big for the Big Wheels that had become so popular, so obviously, we didn't have any. But her little children did. We lived on a street with a small hill. So my little brother or brothers, I really don't remember if it was both of them, hopped onto the big wheels which were on the sidewalk and headed up the hill and came flying down the street. Number 1, it was a new experience, number 2, the thrill on their faces was worth a picture if you had known what they were up to. If you remember big wheels, they were not quiet.

So guess who heard the racket and looked outside and saw her child's big wheels coming down the sidewalk, but not with her child. Guess who marched over to our front door and demanded no less than corporal punishment for using her child's big wheel. By the time this fiasco was through, the whole neighborhood knew not to even look at her children's things. Your best bet was to cross the street to avoid her and her "territory".

Well, back to the pumpkin story. I believe we took this neighbor a pumpkin and she came over wanting to know where we got the pumpkins. She quickly investigated and we all too soon found out that the pumpkins we had acquired were stolen. No we told her, they were free left overs. But not so. Apparently, the whole neighborhood was stealing pumpkins. Talk about a holiday bummer.

I don't remember much about the aftermath of that experience. Knowing my mother, she sought out the farmer and paid him for the pumpkins. But I do remember that awful neighbor threatening to call the police. My poor mother, can you imagine us pulled off the side of the road, picking pumpkins? Up until that time, she would proudly tell the story when she was a child and stolen a candy bar and her punishment and how she never stole a thing again. Not so anymore. She was so mortified. She blamed us kids for making her a thief. For the next couple of years, every time I thought of that time, I got that sick feeling, knowing what we did and the lessons learned. Today, I laugh and laugh.

As for the neighbor, she never did have any friends. And as for the trouble she started when the first mixed race couple moved into the neighborhood is a different story for a different time.

And I have never picked another pumpkin from a patch without paying for it.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN