Memoir: About A Watermelon

My mother confided with me once that towards the end of her pregnancy she craved watermelon. She ate so much of the juicy red flesh that she had visions of giving birth to a watermelon. I was born in the middle of August and it was hot & humid in Missouri; the juicy fruits were in season and they provided a cool wet reprieve from the heat. I think about this whenever I cut open a new watermelon ~ trying to catch the scent ~ will this specimen be of that ultimate sweetness. My mother taught me how to thump watermelons. Still today I stand in the grocery store, sometimes aware of people staring as I walk around the bin, ear close to the big green orbs, flicking them with my finger. I listen for a hollow sound, like if you thump it one more time, the melon might split open at your touch. I am not sure if it works or not, but thumping on watermelons is a womanly tradition in my family ~ it keeps me connected.

We used to tease my grandma that she was so protective of her grandchildren that she wouldn’t let us eat watermelon with a fork. As a grown woman, I am still not totally sure what that means, except it “feels” like LOVE.

I can see us at the farm. My grandpa would carry the watermelon to the big concrete cistern and lay it on an open newspaper. With grandma fretting, we would gather round as he took the long knife and opened it up. He would start in the middle and cut thick slices, then halve those, and make a few more cuts to achieve the shiny triangles that fit easier into hungry kid hands. We gobbled the first few pieces, quenching our thirst and making a pile of the rinds. Then we had time to get more creative … spitting seeds at each other … pinching their slick blackness in our now gummy fingers to see how far we could send them flying. Sometimes Dad would make us goofy teeth out of the rinds. So much to like about a watermelon. Of course grandpa always warned us not to eat the seeds or we would find a vine growing out of our belly button or maybe out our ears. He’s ... teasing?? .... right ... ??

Many years ago I had a conversation with an older woman that I worked with at the Assessor’s Office. She grew up in Florida in a wealthy family. When her father served up a watermelon, he would slice off both ends and all 4 sides of the rind, leaving only the square central portion of redness. “It was the sweetest and most devoid of seeds”, she reminded me, “and he would throw the rest away”.

Shock and dismay ripped through me. Throw away watermelon rinds and seeds ?!?!? Poor thing I thought, she missed out on a lot of fun. They probably ate it on a plate …… with a fork.

* annette