THE WATERMELON MAN

when I was a lad in the ‘50’s living on a farm in

Bindweed County, Indiana we would grow melons, both watermelons and muskmelons.   

(I have been informed that no one calls them muskmelons anymore, but that they are referred to as cantaloupe.)  No matter.

In the summer when they were ripe we would stack them along an embankment beside the state highway which made a natural display area.  People from Jimson City would drive out on a Sunday excursion to buy our melons.

This usually coincided with a visit from my Aunt Vida and Uncle Esthel.  Aunt Vida was my mother’s older sister who had had the good sense to marry Esthel Fish.  My father and Uncle Esthel would sit outside on a bench all day and talk until someone drove up.

At this point Uncle Esthel would go into action.  When he got up to walk over to their car he would be sizing them up as they parked.  This guy was half merchandiser, half manipulator, half Jew, half con man and all salesman!  He would pick up a melon and totally deadpan say “Now this one here is a Dixie Sweet.  It is a deep yellow with a firm flesh and a sweeter than normal taste.  And that is a Mississippi Mellow.  The flesh is a little greener but the taste is indescribable, kind of a sweet, buttery........” and so on until you could smell the magnolias. They thought they were buying a fine wine.  Of course he was making up the names as he went along and improvising the whole thing with what he thought he could get away with.  He would do twofer’s and threefers.  He would offer to, and indeed would, plug a watermelon if he thought it would make a sale.  Then he would throw in a freebie to an already inflated price and everyone was happy.

It has been said that the measure of a great speech is to make them laugh and to make them cry and to thank them for it.  I learned a lot from him.  He was great!