Can you pick a good one?

By

Gerry Niskern

Watermelons, Honey Dews, Galias, Tuscans, Casabas, Cantaloupe. They are all in the supermarkets right now. Do you know how to pick a good one?

When it came to Watermelons my mother had a tried and true method. SHE MADE THE PRODUCE GUY “PLUG” ONE! The tool he used was a long, sharp, circular knife that he plunged deep into the center of the melon. If the long sphere wasn’t sweet enough, mom didn’t buy it.

Regarding Cantaloupes, she always said to “press on the opposite end from the stem site.” It should feel slightly soft and a little springy.

Speaking of Cantaloupes, the family ‘s favorite. But wait, was it dessert or a side dish at dinner?

When we were newlyweds the cantaloupe debate started. Being a W. VA girl, I always had the two halves of Cantaloupe cleaned and ready to serve after dinner for dessert. My husband, a West Texas boy, was used to his mother putting a heaping platter of sliced Cantaloupe as a side dish with the meal.

One day he got so tired of me being stingy with the Cantaloupe he took the advice of a friend of where to get plenty of the ripe melon. He proceeded to take his pickup out on Grand Avenue to the packing sheds. All you had to do was back your truck up to the loading dock and they would dump the bed full of Cantaloupe that was too ripe to ship. Several times during the season he brought home a truckload to share with all our neighbors.

They were delicious!

“Sounds of Summer”

By

Gerry Niskern

SOME OF THESE YOU WILL RECOGNIZE AND THEY IN TURN WILL REMIND YOU OF OTHER FOND SOUNDS OF SUMMER.

Do the sounds of summer take you back to memories of childhood?

Sometimes the charisma of summer is all in the sounds. Try to recall the sound of the water drops hitting the dust as the field was watered before the first pitch of the Little League game. And after the first pitch came the crack of the bat. You can hear it now, can’t you?

After the game, nothing was better than hearing the ice tinkling in the ice cold lemonade unless it’s your first crunchy gulp after a hot game. Or how about the merry sound of the Ice Cream man’s chimes and you knew soon that cool ice cream would be sliding down your parched throat.

When I was growing up near the State Capitol, there used to be a family on West Jefferson, around 11^th Ave. that sold the best watermelons in the whole valley. They kept them cold in a large, soda pop cooler. Mom’s

thumbs beat deep thuds as she tapped the  melons.  Later, at home when she slid her big knife in the dark green skin, her choice melon split apart with a loud ripping sound. It was heaven.

Inside the house, the whir of the evaporative cooler motor meant a welcome breeze. Of course if the cooler wasn’t doing too well, in high humidity, that meant we were in for one of our monsoon storms.  The shattering snap of lightening and deep growl of thunder, even today, reminds me of the neighbors who slept in their backyards on hot nights. They had to run for cover many a summer night after hearing the drumbeat of the rain come marching across the yards.

Sunday afternoon meant family picnic time at Riverside Park down on South Central Ave. We headed for the sounds of water splashing and the shrieks of kids as they

became airborne off the huge slide and landed with a scream in the pool.

After a cool swim, the sputtering and popping of roasting hot dogs mingled with the sounds of a snap and hiss as dad opened bottles of Barq’s Root Beer, Orange or Strawberry pop.

The summer week was complete.

A SPECIAL PLACE

By

Gerry Niskern

This is one of the special places that I miss terribly. One of the spots that I can’t go because of the Covid-19. I wrote about this favorite gathering place in Central Phoenix before they remodeled, but you will still recognize it if you were a “member of the club”.

If you pull into the parking lot in the summer time, on your way to this special place, it’s good to see the plumes of misty water billowing out under the patio overhang. The old green hedge embraces the area, and they give a nice cozy shield from cars and noise after you find a table.

The old stucco store front is dusty and scarred with chairs bumping against its walls. It has a shaded concrete area the length of the store containing black wrought iron tables and chairs that have been around, seem like,  since Arizona became a state.

If you are hoping to catch a few rays you can sit in the extra space out front. But if you desire a spot in the shade, it’s a good idea to put your newspaper, water bottle or some thing to stake out a table before going inside the swinging doors to get something to drink.

The pigeons who have had standing reservations for years are watching for you. They know the crumb droppers and pass word along the network, “Here comes the messy eater. Slow down, boys.  There will be plenty for everybody. The muffin crumbs are tasty, but so are the donuts. Wonder what she’ll get today?”

All the food is good, breakfast or lunch, but the thing that makes this place special is the feeling of belonging. Some people have been coming to this patio for years and they know they will be greeted and drawn into a conversation sooner or later. During the past two years, for me and many others, it’s  been my “ home away from home.”

“Don’t worry, the rain is coming”

By

Gerry Niskern

It’s late this year, and worrisome. We usually have a first big storm by the Fourth of July. But, relax, it’s coming, and it always comes with a bang! Here are some memories of past wet summers. Enjoy.

One day, years ago it was raining so hard I could hardly see them out on the sidewalk. One toddler ran by, laughing, the feet of his soggy sleepers slapping the pavement. Little brother came into sight; his drenched diaper, laden with rainwater, dragging behind.  Big sister in pink pajamas led the parade of upturned, wet faces squealing with the joy at the rain that had finally come after a long period of despair.

That year, in the late l950s’, the residents here in the valley had waited months for relief from the drought. On the days  my children ran outside barefooted the pavement was scalding. The dry grass stubble was prickly and so were tempers. Respite came, as always,  sometime in July.

We have had years of drought and years of unbelievable rains. That summer, before the rains came, the huge dust storms,  the weathermen now call them Haboobs, left an inch layer of dirt on the bottom of everyone’s pool.  The kids begged to swim, so I became an expert at pool vacuuming…every single morning!

The thunderstorms that sometimes come tearing thru the valley create havoc, but just manage to give everyone’s grass a good soaking. It’s hard to believe, but sometimes we do get too much precipitation.

Years ago, when I was a kid, the rain finally came and drenched the parched ground, but didn’t stop.  The Cave Creek Dam finally broke. The railroad tracks along Nineteenth Ave dammed the water. The residential area around the Arizona State Capitol building had heavy flooding. We kids, in the blissful ignorance of childhood,  just enjoyed riding our bikes through the knee high water flowing curb to curb in the streets. We didn’t realize that most of the businesses were sandbagged and the Capitol basement had flooded.

We were even treated to our first look at an U. S. Army amphibious vehicle. The Seventeenth Avenue underpass was flooded too and the kids all watched in awe as a group of soldiers came down the street and drove right through the deep water.

I’ll never forget my dad returning from hiking alone on South Mountain. He was caught in a downpour so hard that he said, “I couldn’t see or breathe. I was really beginning to panic!”

I remember a neighbor at that time telling my folks, “Back in l938, the Salt River really overflowed its banks. The Central Avenue Bridge was holding the water back and all of central Phoenix was in danger of being flooded. Just as they were ready to light the fuse to dynamite the bridge, the water started to subside.”

One other summer, when my kids were in their teens, we lived in a different neighborhood and the rains were again unrelenting. The ground was saturated and one Saturday morning police drove through the area shouting on loud speakers,  “Attention, Prepare to evacuate!”  Arizona Canal above us was starting to overflow its banks

The rains this summer won’t end the drought, only heavy winter snows do that; but as always, they will surely nourish our spirits.

Meanwhile, the scent of wet creosote bushes on the mountain above me, mixed with the pungent smell of desert grass below will be like heaven as I watch the rabbits and quail scurrying for shelter from  the rain that is sure to come soon.