Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, July 5, 1990 TAG: 9007040079
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ben Beagle
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
If you don't know that Luther Burbank was an absolute ace at growing tomatoes and things like that, somebody should whomp your palm with a ruler.
I am telling you all of this because my son and I may have qualified as aces in the profession of growing tomatoes ourselves.
You have all known these people who try to get tomatoes by the Fourth of July.
They are obsessive and they worry a lot.
They are also unbearable.
They set their tomato plants in April and run in and out of their houses carrying peach baskets to put over the plants when frost is forecast.
These people also have a lot of luck growing broccoli and squash.
I think it's weird to run around in April plopping peach baskets down on plants that shouldn't have been set out that early in the first place.
I am here to tell you now that Benjamin Stuart Beagle III and his aging old man had a tomato by June 30. So help me. June 30.
It was a German pink. It was not very big, but it was red.
It was planted in May and never had a peach baskets flopped down on it.
I was going to call all the major news organizations, but we decided Dan Rather wouldn't really understand.
We debated about what to do with this wonder of modern gardening.
"I don't think you actually eat a tomato like that," I said. "Maybe we should preserve it somehow. Posterity. That kind of thing.
"This is the kind of thing that makes you proud to be a Beagle, I can tell you that."
What I really wanted to do was take this tomato and parade it in front of all those types who were trying to get a ripe tomato by the Fourth of July.
You know: "Lester? Bennie. Just wondering how your tomato patch is coming along, fella. Yeah, well, too bad. Got our first one June 30."
I didn't want my son to see this ugly streak in his father, however.
We decided that I should keep the tomato.
"Don't worry, son," I said. "My word is my bond. I won't eat this tomato."
I took it home and put on the kitchen counter next to the basket of apples and nectarines.
I don't know what came over me. I ate the tomato on a corned beef sandwich.
I hate to say this, but it tasted a little pithy.
by CNB