In early October of 1982, my parents packed my chubby, non-walking ass into a car seat, pumped some salsa, slapped on some smiles and jumped on the interstate in hopes of finding apple picking bliss… At least that’s how I like to imagine it. In reality my parents were probably bickering at each other, or shouting at my two cousins sitting on either side of me, or yelling out the window at my aunt who followed in a car behind us. Who knows, but some pictures from back in the day show a happy group beneath red and orange leaves with apples all about. And so the tradition began and with each year that followed in my current batch of 25, I’ve missed no more than five trips.
This year I was in high doubt anyone would be going anywhere near Salt Point, NY due to dad’s stroke. It wasn’t until I received a call from my mom in which she told me she had spoke to dad and a trip had been planned making October 14th was the big day. Whether dad had anything planned originally is what will remain a mystery, mom has a way of forcing her own plans on other people. Regardless, I did talk to my father, who had extended the invite to his warehouse neighbors and we would in fact be making the trip up north.
I called Mr. Man. “You’re in for a surprise.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re going apple picking. You’re coming and you can’t escape. I need you for emotional support.”
He laughed, thinking I was joking. “Come on, L. I’m sure it will be fun.”
“Oh, it will…After I take some valium it’ll be hilarious.”
Saturday morning the alarm went off at 8am.
“Do we have to get up now?” Mr. Man asked me.
“Not at all. Feel free to be the reason we show up late and have everyone complaining and cursing you for the rest of the day.”
He looked at me once and then threw his feet over the edge of the bed, leaving for the bathroom. Poor thing had no idea what he was in for. Sure our parents are friends so he has a idea (limited idea) as to what mine are like, but the whole crew? God help us!
By 9:30am we were sitting in front of my mom’s house waiting for her to return from the deli.
“Why does she wait until I say I’m coming to leave?”
“Because bagels taste better when you procrastinate.”
“Apparently.”
I then saw the Bayron truck pull up with Candice and her immediate family of four tucked in tight. She had the look. The why aren’t we ready to leave look. “Where’s your mom?”
“Getting bagels…They taste better when you leave them for the last minute.”
She wasn’t amused.
Five minutes later mom finally did show up and off we went to meet up with dad and his friends. After several street detours, we arrived at his warehouse but he was nowhere to be found. I’ll save you the boredom of explaining how we went from a leave time of 10am to a leave time of 11am. Let’s just say no one woke up thinking “Wow, I should try to be on time today.” (Regardless of the fact that there are more than 15 people going on this excursion!)
Two hours later (after being stuck in pointless traffic), we arrived at Terhune Farms four cars deep. Like clowns we toppled out of the cars and into the brisk, fresh air. From that moment on it was time for me to turn into the child of the Exorcist; my name was called from so many directions that my head nearly turned all the way around and fell off my shoulders.
“L, come help me set up this blanket so we can eat.”
“L, how do I get this camera to work?”
“L, where is your father?”
“L, can you grab Imani?”
“L, where are the best apples?”
“L, come take a pic!”
“L, where are we going after this?”
“L, come help me get this apple.”
At one point I threw myself on the ground in protest. Mr. Man glanced around, picked me up from the ground, hugged me and said, “You’re amazing. I don’t know how you’ve stayed sane after 25 years of that.”
“You and me, both.”
While tiring, I have to say the trip was fun. Imani had a ball throwing apples and jumping on haystacks. I laughed at my family being clowns and having a good time. I smiled at Mr. Man for joining me for the ride.
By the time we returned home the mere thought of joining some of my friends at a reunion in NYC made me want to pass out. Instead, it was an evening of TV watching and reminiscing about two strangers who talked for hours on a beach one night six months ago…
Life is funny.
Imani holds on for dear life as Mr. Man tries to help her reach for an apple.
5 comments:
God made pumpkins because He knew one day we'd have Halloween and carving watermelons just isn't as much fun.
Looks like fun. Man, I'd go CRAZY with all those people saying my name.
That does like fun. Umm they sound like my family...lol.
Many miles away in Colorado on October 14, I was also on a farm for a field trip.
she is sooooooooooo cute!
thats a neat story... I apple picked for a bit while travelling in newzealand
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