For years, since before the sexual revolutions of the 60's, since before the disco slop of the 70's, since before the me decade of the 80's, I have sought long and hard in my gardens for the elusive tomato which would be red on or before July the 4th. You only get one in a lifetime but one is all a person can stand if he is to keep his sanity.
In Maryland first then later in South Carolina and California, I have said a prayer on the night of the third day of July to the Grand Tomato. A prayer which my sainted mother told me would bring to the righteous and the pure of heart a luscious, sweet yet tangy, scarlet tomato. A taste like no other. Only the grower of the tomato will feel the rejuvenation and sexual tremors as he covers the carmine orb with his mouth.
I remember seeing my mother discover her red tomato on a hot fourth in 1948. She lovingly held it in her hands, devoured it with her eyes, blew off some dust, gave it one last look and bit into it. She shuddered, she shook, her knees wobbled and that smile, the grandest smile I have ever seen, radiated warmth and pleasure to the entire backyard. I never saw that smile again even when she held her newborn grandchildren for the first time.
Ever since that day, I have yearned for that forbidden taste, that once in a lifetime sensation. I thought when I moved To South Carolina I would succeed since spring comes a little earlier there then in my home state of Maryland. My first spring there was filled with expectations of finally achieving what my mother had done long ago during the Truman administration. I was positive that this would be the year but it was not to be. I came close , oh so very close but no release in South Carolina.
Time moved on and so did my life. Each spring I tried yet each fourth I failed to reach my goal. Last year I was in California for my first spring. This would be the year, I knew it for I had heard in California anything will grow and grow fast and big. I dutifully checked the date of the earliest recorded frost in the past 100 years and accordingly planted the morning after that fateful day. The crop looked great by the last week in June. Large luscious tomatoes were hanging down, too many to even count. They had lost their baby lime green color and were now in that state between white and yellow which is the precursor of the red condition. All things were go for a glorious fourth.