My dad’s dad grew tomatoes because his dad did in the Old Country.
My dad planted them as a child during the depression, because he had to. As an adult, he grew tomatoes because they were symbolic of never going hungry. It gave him comfort to know if all else failed; he would have a tomato to eat.
I (the last of the baby boomers) grew them because I wanted to be with my dad. My dad was in the garden, so I was in the garden. We would talk about so many things; we laughed a lot doing mundane, every day chores.
Still, as a child, it was a new era. We were rich (in that my dad had work, mom stayed at home to raise the family; we had no debt, owned our own home and we were loved.) Also, my youth happened between wars; neither war precipitated the need to grow a tomato.
As an adult, I never grew tomatoes well; maybe I stuck one in the ground now and again. But it wasn’t for any altruistic reason, like my dad did. It was a tomato. It had no meaning for me.
I didn’t get the tomato thing. I got that my dad never forgot the depression, but I wanted to grow pretty flowers. I didn’t feel the pangs of hunger that motivated my dad. That was his thing, give me ornamentals; give me beauty. Beauty is priceless. I can buy a tomato.
As my generation basked in the glory of the profits following the depression era, a new era was built on steady work and the power of compound interest, we didn’t want to GROW our own tomatoes we wanted to BUY them, because we could. We wanted to have pretty, manicured gardens around us. Tomatoes were bought just like packaged beef was bought. We wouldn’t think of making our own hamburger, would we?
Now my kids look around and see flowers, pretty flowers, everywhere. As they became informed, they noticed I had no tomatoes; they wondered and asked why. I explained, that, for the most part, my generation didn’t want to grow food. We wanted to grow beauty, our symbol of comfort.
Last year, from a request of my youngest child, Aster, we put in a small veggie garden, dubbed Le Petit Potager. As a family, we tore up a patch of the front lawn and planted the potager we now tend together. We grow tomatoes; and cucumbers, sweet peas, lettuce, spinach, bell peppers, hot peppers, carrots, radishes, collards, and more. We also grow sunflowers and zinnia and dill and cilranto.
As we harvested our first, fresh tomato, I thought of my dad and his dad. I believe in the future, when my kids harvest tomatoes with their children, they will think of me.
I am hopeful my kids will never need to grow a tomato, but if they had to, they could. It is my hope they will want to grow a tomato. It is my hope that the experience of our own little potager will instill a want in them.
In the meantime, I have three children hanging outside with me in our little potager, tasting the fruit of the vine, doing mundane chores and giggling a lot.
Helen Yoest is a garden writer and coach through her business Gardening with Confidence™
Follow Helen on Twitter @HelenYoest and her facebook friend’s page, Helen Yoest or Gardening With Confidence™ Face Book Fan Page.
Helen also serves on the board of advisors for the JC Raulston Arboretum
i love this!
Thank you Meghan! H.
What a wonderful story. Brings tears to my eyes! My grandmother gardened. My mother was allergic to everything and was always sick with asthma. I learned what I could from my grandmother. I grew everything I could think of in my bedroom. When my children were growing up, it was very important to me to teach them about growing and a respect for nature and the environment. My daughter loves to garden and so does my grandson. My son is a city man, but when he comes home he enjoys spending time with me in the park or garden.