A previous post was speaking of watermelons and it reminded me of a 'melon patch we had adjacent to a job a number of years back...(cue wavy screen and "wayback" music)...I was a contract surveyor on a State bridge job back in the early eighties.?ÿ The job consisted of removal of an old long truss bridge and replacing it with multi-span concrete pier and beam.?ÿ The old trusses were left in place and new alignment and grade was built right next to the existing structure.?ÿ Making grade with 20'+ fills took a while, and a lot of new R/W.?ÿ
This was in some good old Okie sandy river bottom.?ÿ Flat as a flitter for as far as the eye could see.?ÿ The land owner that gave up the most acreage for the job lived directly adjacent to the project.?ÿ He had given a good fight over the loss of some of his land but I'm sure he was merely trying to optimize his financial settlement.?ÿ He had a few old straggly grass steers that he kept around, but none of his land was actively under cultivation..until he read the clause in the State's standard R/W contract that stated "compensation of fair market value would be made for any crops in place at the time of sale".?ÿ At the last minute this guy put in about 10 acres of watermelons in the sandy river bottom.?ÿ It worked.?ÿ He got paid for his melons.?ÿ But as they ripened in the hot summer sun he began selling them at the end of his place just outside of the construction.
Nobody probably would have thought anything about it, but the old fart got to where getting along with him was difficult.?ÿ He complained about every aspect of the job and everybody was sick of his bitching.?ÿ A couple of highway department mucky-mucks came out to meet with him one day and put a stop to him selling the melons.?ÿ Their contention was that the State had bought and paid for them and they belonged to the State of Oklahoma.?ÿ That was the end of the old man's truck stand selling watermelons.?ÿ?ÿ
Everybody on the job site snatched melons every day there for a while.?ÿ There were washtubs by the job shack full of iced watermelons.?ÿ The trash barrels under the big cottonwood where we all ate lunch were full of rinds and the flies they attract.?ÿ I got sick of watermelon for lunch but I still brought them home for the kids.?ÿ A few local folks got word there was free melons and the old man's patch would have two or three cars full of "poachers" at any given time there for a while.?ÿ This infuriated the old man.
Soon a "war" broke out between the old man and the job superintendent.?ÿ The old man cut a swale that flooded the equipment staging area.?ÿ The super put four porta-potties (it was July...) right next to the old man's mail box.?ÿ The old man supposedly 'poisoned' a 1000 gallon tank of diesel.?ÿ Then the super cut a foot drop-off where the old man's driveway met the the shoo-fly detour.?ÿ It was always something every time I was out there.
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Eventually the dirt crew made grade.?ÿ We staked the piers, they went up, and by Thanksgiving it was cold and we were shooting haunches on the beams for the deck pour.?ÿ The watermelons were a distant memory by then.?ÿ And as the weather grew cold the old man and superintendent's pecker war had subsided.
A half mile from the job site sat a lonely cinder block tavern called "The Road House".?ÿ It was your usual run of the mill watering hole and none of us were strangers there after quitting time.?ÿ I do remember the juke box had some golden Patsy Cline on it and the barkeep sold killer pickled eggs and links.?ÿ Anyway me and my crew pulled up there late one day and there were only two trucks in the parking lot...the old man's and the superintendent's.?ÿ The three of us immediately recognized the vehicles so we scampered in to see what sort of fight was going to break loose.
We were disappointed.?ÿ There the two men sat at the bar well into their third or fourth pitcher of beer, laughing and carrying on like long-lost brothers.?ÿ At the time nearly 40 years ago I thought they were crazy after all that had transpired.?ÿ But now that I'm that much older I can understand.?ÿ Don't ever give an inch to anyone when you're nose to nose with them.?ÿ But put it down when the contest is over..life's too short. 😉
When my older twin was in college, he couldn't live on the pittance that I sent him every two weeks, so he worked part-time in a grocery store produce department where he often created works of watermelon art for customers. Had they known that he also slogged through tidal flats looking for critters, fished for bass wherever he could find fresh water near Wilmington, NC, and played club rugby, they may have been somewhat skeptical of the cleanliness of his creations.
His brother takes care of their aging parents. Two nights ago, he picked up a watermelon on his way home from work and cut it up for us. The container below is what's left this morning along with some of the other healthy food he wants us to eat. What's missing created an unusual number of trips to the bathroom over the past two nights.
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Watermelon has that effect, MOST DEFINITELY.
Having grown up on a farm where we grew watermelons (among other things) I have probably eaten a couple of tons myself.?ÿ When we harvested we put aside the "culls", or those that were smaller or misshapen.?ÿ We'd eat all we wanted, load the rest in the truck, and haul them to the cows.?ÿ If you pitched them hard enough they would split and the cows could get to the meat, if not a cane knife would split them enough for the cows.?ÿ Below is a cane knife.
Andy
You really want to be sure that only strikes that at which you are aiming.
I've got one of those in the garage that belonged to my grandfather.?ÿ Not exactly like the pic, but awfully close.?ÿ I've always called it a "corn knife" because I thought that is what he called it.?ÿ I'm wondering now if he really called it a "cane knife" and I just misunderstood him.
I reckon ya wanna see my slingblade, uh huh ...
