The green tomato robbery!

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I don’t recall exactly when we started doing some of the new things we began to do.

We tried out something called “collecting time.” We were knocking on neighbor’s doors asking for cookies or cupcakes. It worked until our mothers got phone calls asking if they needed food to feed the family. We were shut down. We had always played games. Annie I Over, Kick The Can, Tag, Baseball, Horse with a bald basketball off a wooden backboard, kites, and balsa wood airplanes.

And then one day at Hess’s grocery, we found Pea Shooters. The plastic straw and a small bag of dried peas wasn’t expensive, but we never had much money. We would have been better off with a paper straw and a real bag of dried peas from the grocery store. Added to this were squirt guns. What fun to blast away at your pals and unlimited supply of ammo.

There were some large cottonwoods in the neighborhood. The new nightly activities were to climb these trees, get out on a branch over the street and either shoot peas at cars or squirt water on them. Brakes would screech and colorful words could be heard, but we were undetected in the leaves. Once several college kids chased us hard but we knew our neighborhood and where to hide.

I improved my weaponry by finding some small bore aluminum conduit and hacksawing off a longer than normal piece. A long range weapon I had. My mother had always given us the usual warnings about playing with matches, looking both ways before crossing, and not to run with anything in your mouth.  

Well I broke one of the rules, and while fleeing an irate motorist ran into a rung of a ladder with the aluminum pea shooter in my mouth. It knocked  me flat on my back and the conduit cut the roof of my mouth. I still have a scar I can feel even today. 

I went home scared with some bleeding. It stopped overnight but it was very sore. The next morning was Sunday and Mom made her famous caramel  rolls, hot from the oven. I politely declined as the thought of hot caramel in my wound was too much. She instantly knew something was up, but I never said what it was.

One September day we were out in the neighborhood. We had groves of trees, gullies, an old concrete foundation and grandpa’s chicken yard to play in. That day we were in the alley behind Carmen and Auga Borah’s place. They had a large and fruitful garden. Included were many tomato plants full of green tomatoes.

We instantly decided that this late in the year, that the tomatoes had to be inedible just based on the green color. Now we knew tomatoes, as we all carried little Morton Salt shakers and helped ourselves everywhere we went.

So it began, a green tomato fight. They were ripped off the plants and the air was thick with them flying back and forth between us. I don’t remember exactly how many we had taken before an agonizing scream was heard from Auga. We had never known her to be that upset and we didn’t know why.

We fled and hid in a gully thick with brush. Hearts pounding and breaths quick we kept quiet as a large posse searched the whole area for the thieves. When we had a chance, we ran to the west and tried to agree on a common defense. We settled on the fact that this late in the year they were of no value anyway, and why was everyone upset?

It didn’t work. It fell flat from the first word. The shocking thing is that my punishment was doled out by my  mother. Usually it was, “You just wait until your Dad gets home,” but not this time.

I was in such a state of shock that fear was just a given. I had to go apologize after I was made to understand that, yes, the tomatoes still had value. I know there was more, but I was lucky that mom and Auga were such good friends.

I think of this whenever I see Jay Borah somewhere. He was part of the posse that day. We shared fear. He of my Dad who didn’t always look kindly on neighborhood kids, and me from the green tomato robbery.