When I was a little girl just so high
Mama took a stick and made me cry
Now I’m a big girl and Mama can’t do it
But Daddy takes a stick and hops right to it.
Okay, I got that out of my system. (Mama used to say that little poem. I don’t remember why she said it or where it came from, but it always made me laugh.)
Grandad Ray was a fantastic gardener. He always had big gardens. (Yes, gardenS. He wasn’t one to put all his eggs in one basket–or tomatoes, as the case might be.)
One year when I was in grade school, Grandad Ray grew a bunch of watermelons–both red and yellow meated melons. One day he told Sister Debbie and me that we could sell them if we wanted to, and keep the money.
Naturally, we took him up on it!
Grandad and Grandmother lived right next door to us, and he stored his melons in the garage where it was a little cool. (They would have baked like potatoes if the weather had been as hot as it is now. Whew!)
Anyway, every morning Sister D and I would roll several watermelons up to our front yard, out next to the street and sit behind them. We charged twenty-five cents for red meated and thirty-five cents for yellow.
One day a young man pulled to a stop, rolled down his window and hollered, “How much for a yella watermelon?”
“Thirty-five cents!” I yelled back.
The price was right, so he climbed out of his car and picked one out. Before he left, he dropped a quarter and a dime into my palm, then he jumped into his car and screeched away.
When we looked at our money, Deb and I noticed the quarter had a hole in the middle. When Daddy got home that evening, we showed it to him. “Is a quarter with a hole in it still good?”
“Nope. You might spend it in a vending machine, though.”
I think we went out of the melon business after that. Even though we made 100% profit, getting money we couldn’t spend for sitting out in the sun wasn’t much fun. We decided we liked playing with friends much more than have a watermelon stand.
Today whenever someone mentions The Watermelon Stand, my dad sings,
♪♫ “Well, I walked around the corner and I walked around the block. I walked right in to a bakery shop. I picked up a donut right out of the grease and handed the lady a five cent piece.
“She looked at the nickel and she looked at me. She said this nickel ain’t no good to me. There’s a hole in the middle and it’s all the way through.”
“Says I, ‘There’s a hole in the middle of the donut, too.’ Shave and a hair cut, six bits.” ♫♪
I know my posts are kind of sporadic lately, and I’m sorry about that. Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you what’s going on. Ü Or maybe you can guess.