“Thumping Watermelons”
I enjoy visiting the Western North Carolina Farmer’s Market in Asheville. In fact, that is one of my favorite things to do, regardless of the season. The sights, sounds, smells, and wide mixture of customers (ages, racial-ethnic heritage, sizes, physical levels of functioning, clothing choices, license tags, shopping styles and preferences, etc.) create an exciting adventure for an excursion. Personally, I could spend an entire morning just meandering around. I enjoy the varieties of fruits, vegetables, berries, plants, farm products, handicrafts, and so forth that are on display and can be purchased if/when the price is right. In particular, I like to visit the “lower sheds” where watermelons, cantaloupes, peaches, apples, squash, tomatoes, sweetcorn, pumpkins, and the like can be purchased from the assorted vendors that setup in that location.
In the summer months, I enjoy seeing if there were any good watermelons for sale on the day when I visit. Upon my arrival, I drive down the hill to the area where the watermelons were in abundance. After parking my car, I get out and stroll by the various vendors, checking out their products. Stopping by their displays I find that most of them are selling their watermelons for about the same price. Since I am often not in a hurry I check out most of the merchants before making my selection. During one visit, I got to the southwest corner of the lot I happened upon two older fellows who were engrossed in any interesting conversation. I decided to eavesdrop.
These two fellows (I guessed their ages to be mid to late 80s.) had found a good shady place, with a couple of overturned wooden, empty apple boxes that were just right for sitting. Their conversation was centered on the process one should follow in the selection of a good, properly ripened, watermelon. They discussed the size, shapes, and colors of the watermelons they preferred. One was a strong advocate for those that are striped, while the other preferred a lighter shade of green for the hull. Neither of them voiced a choice of a round one; as they both wanted theirs to be oblong in shape. They agreed that one that was “too big” was not their choice. They, also, agreed they did not like “seedless” ones as they figured, “They ain’t no good”. Their conversation then turned to the proper sound one should derive from thumping watermelons. One of them stated he liked to use one knuckle from his index finger on his right hand and knock on the hull of the watermelon being considered for a possible purchase. He said he would thump it a couple of times, listening carefully for the right sound that would indicate the level of ripeness. He said that when he heard the “right sound” then he would purchase it. The other fellow agreed that was indeed a good way to go about the process. However, he said he preferred to ball up his fist and thump the possible selection as though he “was a knockin’ on the door” in order to hear the melon’s response. That seemed to settle it for both of them.
The conversation then moved to “way back yonder” as they began to reminisce of the days gone by. They talked about growing their own melons. They remembered going to the spring-house to retrieve a chilled melon on a hot day. They spoke of the “popping” sound made by the hull of a ripe melon when the “butcher-knife” was inserted into it. With delight, they talked about watching children eat a piece of melon, gnawing all of the meat into the hull, watermelon juice dripping off of their elbows and running down their bellies, and the sounds of folks spitting out the seeds. From there, their conversation became one filled with pleasant “recollections” from their lives. They shared wonderful stories of fun times and good days. They, also, shared some of the heartaches and challenges their journeys had encountered. They spoke about their current lives, expressing sorrow for departed spouses. Both stated they were glad to be doing as well as they were, given declining health and advancing age.
Well, after about an hour of eavesdropping I started to move on. They decided to move along themselves at about the same time. They stood up and shook hands. One of them said, “Now what did you say your name was and where are you from?” The other responded, and then gleaned the same information from his conversation partner. As they started to depart, one said, “Well, I hope to run into you again sometime. Maybe we’ll be able to thump some more watermelons.”
I need to spend more time “thumping watermelons”.