We Dare Defend Our Watermelons

It seems like I’ve had watermelon on my mind a lot lately. At work, we talk about how watermelon just doesn’t seem to be as good as it used to be and how thin skinned a lot of these politically correct seedless personal sized watermelons seem to be.

Honestly, I think it’s true that watermelons used to be better. Maybe we all used to be better when our skins were a lot thicker, our insides were a lot sweeter and full of seeds. There is nothing wrong with spitting watermelon seeds; in fact, I think that it is very medicinal.

Being home in Alabama, I realized that it was National Watermelon Day or something similar, perhaps it was “Thin-skinned, Seedless, Not Very Sweet Watermelon Day.”

That’s not a good thing to say is it? There is no doubt in my mind that there are just as many (probably a whole lot more) great watermelons as there used to be. And yes, these watermelons are big and sweet and full of seeds.

Sounds like a Southern person to me. Can I still say that? Of course I can…

It’s just that sometimes folks have this opinion of folks in the South that isn’t correct. They come here or more often an “expert” tells them how people in the South are and how Southerners think. More than likely, these people have eaten too many of these thin-skinned seedless watermelons.

It’s not really a “Bless your heart” type of situation. I view it as more of a “Get off my porch and out of my yard” situation. If you’ve ever eaten a real watermelon sitting at a concrete roadside table, church picnic or even while sitting on your back steps half-naked, you know what I mean.

While home in Alabama, I went through some pictures my Mama had saved. She was good at saving things, as a matter of fact, I think Mama tried to save everything. I loved her, love her still and miss her terribly.

In going through some of her things, three things hit me hard. The first was a book titled “100 Places To See Before You Die.” I didn’t have the heart to open it and check the places off I knew she got to go before she died, but I will tell you this, she bought a lot of postcards.

The second was a little angel made of rocks that I’m sure one of my brothers had given her. It simply said, “I’ll always be with you.” I’m of the thick-skinned watermelon variety, perfect for making watermelon rind pickles, but every time I think of that phrase – it gets me.

The other thing was one of those pictures. It was of little boy sitting on his back porch, really just a stoop, wearing a diaper, eating a piece of watermelon about as big as he was. You could tell I was about as happy as a two-year old could be.

Fifty years later, I felt the need to sit on that little concrete stoop and see if I could get a little of that magic back. I can’t say that I was as happy as I was then, because you really don’t know how happy you were (except by the sticky watermelon covered face).

About this time, an old friend drove up in his truck. This fellow was a friend of my Daddy’s and still calls me on the phone to check on me. He’s in his 70’s. When he heard I was “back home,” he said, “I’m coming to see you.”

He did.

We talked watermelons and life. His premise is that people who are not from the South are just jealous that they can’t live the simple life and have the patience to eat watermelons with seeds. In other words, “They just wish they were us.” It may sound a little arrogant, but there might be a little truth to it.

He told me a beautiful story about his mother and how she got to spend the last ten years of her life living with him and his wife. He said it was not a burden, describing it as wonderful and a “blessing.” However, the thing that got me was this… He said, “We were sitting and talking and cutting up.” I didn’t know where he was going with this story.

He said his mother (at 90), still with her wits and her “wit,” told him in the middle of the laughing and silliness, “You come on over here, I’m going to whop you.” She was being funny. But he did. He walked over to her. She gasped and it was her last breath.

His mother’s last words to him were, “…I’m going to whop you.” I laughed until I cried. If you understand that, chances are you have no problem with seeds in your watermelon. If you do not, “Bless your heart and stay out of my yard.”

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