Roth, Barbara

English

Collin College: DigitalCommons@Collin

ForcesVolume 2010 Article 1005-1-2010Victory Gardens and TomatoesBarbara RothFollow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.collin.edu/forcesThis Short Story is brought to you for free and open access by DigitalCommons@Collin. It has been accepted for inclusion in Forces by an authorizededitor of DigitalCommons@Collin. For more information, please contact mtomlin@collin.edu.Recommended CitationRoth, Barbara (2010) "Victory Gardens and Tomatoes," Forces: Vol. 2010 , Article 100.Available at: https://digitalcommons.collin.edu/forces/vol2010/iss1/1002 2 F O R C E S  2 O 1 O 2 32 O 1 O  F O R C E SNew SheetsKarla Morton  It’s a scent that reminds me more of herthan her perfume – clean cloth and hot iron;sweet steam permeating her face; her hands.Saturday mornings, back aching over the ironing board;shirts, in queue on hangers waiting for her touch...I realize now, it was all for us – each ironing, each call; each care package; each Sunday dinner...Mom, we’d say, why do you go to all this trouble?18 years ago, I knew this day would come, when the gift of life welled up inside me like cool waters,destined to be free.What if he hurts? What if he needs?What more can I give him? 18 summers pass like constellations in the night.I washed his new sheets twice; pulled out the ironing board, steamed tears into fresh pillowcases,pressed my hands to the seams.His first night away; I’ll think of his cheeks on the cloth;his sleep, steeped, with the sweet smell of home.Mr. Giggles   Daniel ShipleyVictory Gardens and TomatoesBarbara RothThe time was World War II and I was in kindergarten. One spring day, just before the closing bell rang, our teacher gave each of us a packet of seeds, “To plant a Victory Garden at home, to help the war effort,” she told us. A picture of a vegetable was on each envelope. Mine was a shiny red tomato.Clutching the packet and my drawings, I raced the three blocks home. “Mom, Mom. Look! Seeds for a Victory Garden.” The seeds rattled as I shook the packet. “What’s a Victory Garden?” I demanded. Mom explained to me that if everyone grew their own vegetables, there would be enough food to feed the soldiers fighting in the war. My Uncle Walt was a soldier in the war. He was away in a far-off place called Hawaii. I did not like tomatoes, but I liked Uncle Walt, and I was curious about how tomatoes grew from seeds.“Can we plant them, Mom?”“We’ll talk about it over dinner.”Saturday morning found Dad straining to spade the stubborn earth in the back yard. Soon taut white string marked straight rows. How tiny the seeds were as they dropped into the fragrant, crumbly soil. Then came the watering, the weeding, and the waiting. At last, slim fingers of pale green curved upward through the earth’s crust and strained toward the sun. The same miracle occurred in each neighbor’s backyard. Gardening hints passed over adjoining fences and we shared or exchanged abundant crops.Oh, those bountiful tomatoes. Everyone was trying to give them away. There was no choice, but to can them. Mom found canning instructions in the newspaper and bought two cartons of mason jars and paraffin wax for sealing. Grandmother came by bus to help and Mom drafted me. We speared tomatoes on forks and plunged them into boiling water to loosen the skin for peeling. The juice stung as it ran in thin rivulets down my arms. The boiling water intensified the already hot, humid kitchen and tempers became as acid as the tomatoes. Mercifully, Mom sent me outside to play. At day’s end, ruby jars lined the countertop, Grandma had gone home, and Mom went to bed early. Patriotism was not easy that day. Years later, I learned that U.S. citizens grew over 40% of the nation’s produce during World War II.

Victory Gardens and Tomatoes

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Victory Gardens and Tomatoes

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