Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, May 8, 1994                   TAG: 9405110053
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV-2   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY 
SOURCE: Madelyn Rosenberg
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

FORGET THIS WEEK AND YOU COULD BE IN PICKLE

It's a time to reflect on the sweetness and sourness of life. We are talking, of course, about International Pickle Week, held May 22 to 28.

In my household you can bet it will not pass unnoticed.

I've had ill luck during most of the major holidays this year.

A four-store, last-minute search for pecans left my boyfriend and me wiped out in December. Harried by last-minute shopping demands during the gift-giving season, we decided it would be best if the two of us waited for a less-hectic season to do something special. We're still waiting.

We skipped Valentine's Day.

I have long suspected that the holiday, no matter what history says about St.Valentine or early Roman festivals, was engineered by Hallmark.

My roommates, no fans of chocolate creams or 14-karat roses, also let Feb.14 pass with no fanfare. My brother skipped it, too. We always hated those heart-shaped red hots.

But we all agreed we needed some sort of holiday to bring us through the doldrums of the late winter months. And we needed a holiday to herald the spring. It had to be fun and carefree, yet obscure enough to keep us from falling victim to hard-sell commercialism.

After perusing my brother's 1994 Redneck Calendar (Longstreet Press) we picked three new causes for celebration.

Johnny Appleseed Day found me on my way to Washington, D.C., after a long week at work. I had not baked the apple pie I promised. I did not plant a new tree.

But I did think about the environment as I drove down the familiar highway to D.C. And I did tell those-in-the-know, "Happy Johnny Appleseed Day," as we remembered, somewhere near Delaplane, our folk hero du jour.

April1 came and went and didn't remind me in the least that the next day was April2, Buddy Ebsen's birthday. (One thing about commercial holidays: There's no way you can forget that they're coming.)

It was Saturday and sunny, a perfect day to celebrate. But there was yard work to be done. And my friends couldn't be persuaded to spend the day indoors, shopping for matching overalls. If we saw anything of the Beverly Hillbillies, it was only as we surfed the channels in search of college basketball.

Which leaves us with International Pickle Week, beautiful in its simplicity, a final chance to show my friends I care. You, too, can celebrate the week of the pickle.

Tradition? Eat pickles: on white bread with butter, in relish or plain.

Gifts? Jars of pickles. No one will say: "Thanks, but didn't you buy me these last year?" They can't be the wrong color or size or out of style.

It's the perfect holiday for this time of year: No stress, no commercialism, a last reminder to get those cucumbers in the ground nowfor a fruitful harvest.

Best of all, it lasts an entire week, so if one day's too busy, you'll still have six more to pause, reflect on pickles and think up an excuse to take a little time off.