Of pumpkins planted, grown, carved, smashed and remembered.

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By Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. It is October time around America and that means the ubiquitous appearance of pumpkins. They are everywhere these days... small ones up Massachusetts Avenue at the Montrose Spa where Tommy, el jefe, has at last shaved what was striving to become a beard; we are all relieved, since it didn't suit him.

You can get bigger ones up at Shaw Market in Porter Square. But for the big ones, the really good ones, the ones with heft (the best ones for carving), you need to go out to Lexington and Concord, the towns of the Revolution; they always look particularly spruce and tidy this time of year... and the pumpkins do their bit to create the right effect. I shall no doubt ask my driver Aime Joseph to drive me out for the afternoon. We shall stop at any number of road side stands along the way and I shall, such is my habit, over buy and make a valiant effort (some times successful) to eat all before anything spoils. I have learned to give away the extra before that happens.

Much to write, but pumpkins first.

This season of the year is rich in subjects for articles... but before I can write these, I must tackle the pumpkins. They have, after all, always been a part of my life, and it would be rude to ignore these old friends...

... but first, let's designate the incidental music for this article. It's the tune "Today" by a group which called themselves "The Smashing Pumpkins" (formed 1988). I selected them for several reasons. Because they are Illinois folks, as I am, and sometimes you must boost the locals just because they are proximate. I have also selected them because, like all the pumpkins of years past, they no longer exist. It isn't just that they fought and argued amongst themselves; that's the way of these nomadic groups. I think it's because they weren't good enough... and therefore estrangement made more sense than counseling and hard work.

There is one more reason, too, and that, of course, is their name. It is a name more appropriate than most selected by such groups which think that the anti-social heights to which they all aspire can be scaled by purple hair, black lipstick, a paucity of bathing and a maximum of little pills of various sizes, shapes, colors and intensities...

... but in truth these boys and girls are often charming and well spoken when you meet them. And why not? Contrary to the impression they wish to leave, they are, after all, often the product of middle class homes and middle class parents who wonder what they did that lead to what their off spring are doing, these young folks, I say, know nothing about radical behavior, much less the whys and wherefores of revolution.

And as for "smashing pumpkins", that was always a factor in the life of pumpkins, long before this evanescent group selected the nom de guerre they found so cool.

I have selected their tune "Today" ( released 1993) for this article. Go now to any search engine, find it and listen. It's a pity there's absolutely no poetry in the lyrics, but the pain of its author is evident and makes the listener want to say that "this too shall pass" and provide some comfort and hot chocolate, not, perhaps, the response any revolutionary would like... but they'll take it and say polite thanks, for they have manners, though they are loath to admit it.

Pumpkins planted, grown, and considered.

While researching this article, I discovered that Illinois is one of the top pumpkin producing states in the union. I'm not surprised. When I planted my first garden in the 50's in the good earth of the prairies, the first seeds I planted were pumpkin seeds. They would have come in a small packet from the local gardening center and, being me, I would have followed the directions on the back religiously, brooking no opposition from more experienced folks who aimed to help; it said do "X", and "X" I would do.

That would have meant working with a ruler... each seed so many inches in the earth. This was the earth never turned by man before in its millions of years. I was the first, the very first, to put my shovel into its richness, thereby putting it at the service of mankind. The garden was small but the idea was not.

Thus, I considered each seed and its placement, so many inches from the next; each direction followed with care and exactitude, for I respected the seed and wished to do it homage, so that my crop of pumpkins would grow and be a credit to itself.... and to me.

It was all very reminiscent of Robert Frost, who respected nature and knew the hard -- and rewarding -- work of gardens. He wrote a poem in 1916 about a person I could identify with. It is called "A Girl's Garden."

"A neighbor of mine in the village Likes to tell how one spring When she was a girl on the farm, she did A childlike thing.

One day she asked her father To give her a garden plot To plant and tend and reap herself, And he said, 'Why not?'"

Every word in this poem spoke to me...

She planted many things, as in due course I was to do. And we both planted -- how could we not? -- pumpkins.

"It was not enough of a garden Her father said, to plow; So she had to work it all by hand, But she didn't mind now...

Her crop was a miscellany When all was said and done, A little bit of everything, A great deal of none."

But there were pumpkins... a glory to me because they grew at all; a glory to see because they looked like they were supposed to. I had kept the seed packet... and made sure. However, the important thing was this: I had taken the unturned sod of the immemorial prairies, turned it in the first days of springtime when all was mud and when the winds of Winter still chilled... I had done this thing and brought forth life! And pumpkins, of the genus Cucurbia pepo. The day I cut them from the withered vine was a day of proud significance... and gifts of what I'd grown to the lucky ones.

"The Smashing Pumpkins" must have known such a day. In "Today" they sang it out, thus

"Today is the greatest Day I've ever known Can't wait for tomorrow...."

I told you they had no poetry about them. Perhaps growing, rather than smashing, pumpkins would have helped. It worked for me... and no one ever smashed one of mine.

A Dedication. This article is dedicated to Elizabeth English of Hastings, New York, whom I call "Miss Eliza." She will read it with pleasure and give, I know, a compliment to its appreciative author.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses.

Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com. Check out e Master Classes -> http://silver45b.vnd131145.hop.clickbank.net

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