It seems as if there is a conspiracy against the elderly
Certain packagings do not open properly or at all when you follow their opening instructions to the letter
It might for instance say TEAR HERE and you find to your dismay that the place indicated is unperforated and unbearable
Or they lull you with something that tears wonderfully and satisfyingly yet the zip-locking arrangement beneath is so grippingly locked that you futilely apply more and more pullapart force till you risk ripping the plastic and having half the tortillas slide to the unmopped kitchen floor
And then there are the pot pies whose perforation patterns do not work because the faux cardboard bends to pressure rather than part along the perforations so you have to saw with serrated knife or reperforate with a fork and both are ineffective so you end up frenziedly ripping & mangling the box top like the devil doll in Trilogy of Terror
And THEN you are invited to “slit the top” of the pot pie which is frozen brick-hard and you have to wield a meat cleaver if you have one or a chef’s knife if you don’t (you don’t) with the swiftness of a medieval executioner cleaving a neck
And there are also pickle jars and fruit-juice bottles that require superhuman torque to un-vacuum-pack
Why, even a simple mustard or ketchup pack can ro rogue by being difficult to tear and when you squeeze hard from necessity the foil suddenly gives way with an inelegant SPLUTCH! and a big little mess
This is the second quarter of the TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY, for crying out loud
Astronauts have gone beyond the Moon this very week
The least our genius inventors can do is to make a package that opens ITSELF with the voice command Open O Sesame
Deftly, economically, he plucks a tomato from the bin and positions is precisely, stem side down, in the chute just as his driving hand propels it through the slicing blades
His guiding hand plucks the slices from the far end and in the same deft motion his guiding hand’s thumb flicks the top slice into the salsa cambro
And the rest of the tomato fills a gap in the half-full heatsealable bag
The crowd cheers with gusto
But the judges hold up disappointing numbers
They noticed the bottom slice with its tiny but stigmatizing dot had gone into the bag too
The crowd makes a sympathetic noise
Between the ears
Wherein the Tomatoman’s Olympic exploits are imagined
And crowd and arena alike fade
As the commissary prep cook
Fishes the bottom slice
Out of the bag
The author gratefully acknowledges James Thurber and his “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.”
November 2015 I answered an ad calling for restaurant workers at the airport; got a Cashier/Host gig at Matt’s Big breakfast in Terminal 4 right by Gate B5 at Phoenix Sky Harbor Int’l Airport; gave two weeks’ notice in September of 2021; had some glorious semi retirement adventures; reapplied for work with parent company SSP America after doing a three-week prep cook training course; was hired as a prep cook for the SSP Commissary in May of 2023; was tapped for tomato-slicing duty by Chef Adam that November. My main job since then has been running thousands of tomatoes through a manual hand-slicer with multiple parallel blades. Over two-plus years I have gotten to be good at it. It is not rocket science, but it does involve some choreography, especially when I start running out of tomatoes.
My good-humored co-workers call me “Mr. Tomato” or “Tomatoman” on occasion. That is fine with me. I strive to be the best Tomatoman I possibly can be. And to the other Tomatofolks out there, amateur or professional, I salute you. May your tomatoes ever be firm yet not underripe!!
When I was growing up our family library included books of fairy tales, and one of my favorites was The Wonder Clock by Howard Pyle. And my favorite of the twenty-four stories in that book was “How Boots Befooled the King.” The book is in the public domain now, and I urge interested parties to find it via Google Books or Project Gutenberg. It is lavishly illustrated in glorious detail by the author.
“How Boots Befooled the King” came to mind because tomorrow is April Fool’s Day, a day for practical jokes and pretense. It was once my favorite holiday. The challenge of coming up with believable fakery delighted me.
One memorable April Fool’s Day in the late 20th Century I called my mother and crestfallenly asked her if it would be OK if I stayed in her guest house a few days–domestic trouble at home; looks like a divorce is in the cards. She bought it hook, line and sinker, and was furious when I “April Fool!!”ed her, but also enormously relieved that it was a joke. (Alas, in 2004 or thereabouts it started to become obvious that the marriage wasn’t working out. We were growing apart. Eventually we agreed to stay together until our daughter had finished her education. The divorce was finalized on December 19, 2011.)
One prank I pulled right before an April Fool’s Day 5K footrace called the “Fools 5K” in the early 90s, which I and my running pal George had signed up for, happened just before the airhorn sounded to start the race. I looked George in the eye and said, “Hey, George, some advice. Whatever you do during this race…try your best not to think of the Jetson’s theme song.” Poor George was doomed to run every step of the three-miles-plus with the obnoxious “Meet George Jetson…” theme song looping in his head. In my defense, at least it was only a 5K and not a marathon. And I bought lunch after, to make up for my mischief.
My Sweetheart Donna had a younger brother, Scott, who was born on April Fool’s Day. “I teased him mercilessly on his birthday,” she says, calling him an April Fool and “Scott the Snot” and “Scott the Pot.” But she couldn’t fool him. “He was so much smarter than I was, or ever will be.” She loved him profoundly, and he loved her. Tragically, Donna lost Scott to the AIDS epidemic. She grieves, and always will.
I wonder if and how I will celebrate April Fool’s Day tomorrow. I feel too old and sober-sided to pull any shenanigans, especially in these harrowing times. Most likely I will do a search on “April Fool’s Day pranks” and vicariously enjoy other people’s japes. And I will definitely do a search for Norman Rockwell’s famous April Fool’s Day painting, wherein all kinds of crazy-impossible things happen, including birds flying upside down.
I hope you have an uplifting and good-foolish April Fool’s Day tomorrow, Friends. 🙂
One with Clay, Image and Text 