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*First Year in our New Home*  10/17/01

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All of Mark Crider's stories have a down-home flavor
that you don't get from anyone else but maybe Al
Batt.  Enjoy today's story about one bountiful garden!

From my family to yours,
Michael

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First Year in our New Home

By Mark Crider

The year after Sandra and I moved into our new
home where we live now, I got my new garden
going full blast. It was as large as I remember
my grandmother's when I was very small and
she fed twelve kids, the chickens and hogs out
of it. I was in absolute garden heaven. I planted
stuff I had never heard of, to see what other folks
in foreign countries and other parts of our country
ate.  In a new garden you really have a problem
with weeds because they have been there doing
their thing for eons and aren't going to give up their
turf for no amateur like myself. It's 80 X 240 and
tiered in six compartments of 80x 30 with a 20x20
to one side. My new Troy-Built roto tiller ate the
new sandy loam alive.  It was on into the first part
of April and the squash, beans (five or six kinds),
cucumbers and the other early stuff were just
inundating me. I had given so much to my friends
and neighbors that they were loaded up to their ears.
                           
It was a Saturday morning, the only time I had to
deal with the weeds, watering, and close picking
of the stuff. I could see it was a losing battle. The
garden was close to the street, maybe a hundred
and fifty feet or so. The old man called to me from
the ditch and said what a nice garden I had. I had
seen him over on the freeway before for several
years and sometimes on Leopard Street. He had
a sack and a gig he had made from a broom or
mop handle and would walk along gathering cans.
I guess to sell and have something to do. I walked
over and we introduced each other and I invited him
to come look my garden over. He said I must have
a very large family to which I told him there were just
my wife and I. I shared it with friends and neighbors,
but they had all they could use, and offered him
some. Told him he could have all he wanted. He
said there were just him and his wife, but they
had some friends in the government projects a
little ways down and across the street where I
live.  He told me that he was eighty something
and was retired from the old Pontiac Refining Company.

Wow, I thought, that was a long time ago. He
said his wife had had a stroke and didn't get
around too good but she managed to cook some
good "old fashioned" food a couple times a
week. The rest of the time they ate at the old
folks center nearby. It was cheap and filling he
said and took a load off them. He started telling
me about some bugs I hadn't noticed. Then he
helped me pick some stuff and told me that it was
bad to plant this next to that and he was a virtual
encyclopedia of gardening. Heck, it was noon
before I knew it and we had been down there
picking and working all morning while the time
flew by. He said he had to go and help his wife
with lunch so we gathered up his sack full of
vegetables and I drove him to his apartment and
helped him to the door with the sack.

The next Saturday dawned and I was down there
struggling with it again. He came strolling up and
told me how it was so easy to control the weeds
if you got them as soon as they sprouted. I told
him I didn't have the time except on Saturdays.
He said he would gladly stop by for a while a
couple of times a week or so and check on them.
Of course, I told him to help himself to any
vegetables he needed and take some to his
friends because it was getting away from me.
Every evening when I went down to pick, there
were neat piles of vegetables in plastic bags in
the shade, freshly washed and damp to keep
them fresh. We didn't know what to do with all
that stuff.  I drove over to his little apartment
and asked him where the center was that they
went to and he gave me directions so I hauled
at least a hundred pounds of veggies over there.
I met the two old black men. They were the
cooks. They were so appreciative and said all
the old folks would enjoy them. They said they
fixed them like they like them, the old
fashioned way.

Well, the summer drug on and there were so
many tomatoes, potatoes, corn -- heck you
name it. I had it running out my ears and
hauling it to the center.  I noticed that I didn't
have hardly any weeds and the bugs were
under control. The tomatoes were six or more
feet high and loaded. He had been taking care
of it. Towards the end of summer he came by
on Saturday and said all the old folks were sure
glad he ran into me and wanted me to come
to the center that evening and have supper with
them. I had to decline and he was so
disappointed, but said they had made a special
desert for me -- Key lime pie.  I remembered that
I told him one of my favorites was that when he
asked me about the young lime trees that I had.
I went and there were so many happy faces
there. They all shook my hand and told stories
of when they had gardens, about the depression,
the war, and their children that fought in it.
Some had lost their children in it, but the
sadness had faded and they spoke so proudly
of them and told me where they had died and
what they were doing when it happened. They
showed me medals that the government had
sent them. I thought to myself "that is so cheap --
medals for sons, and they are here eating in
this center, no telling what, if I didn't bring
these vegetables here".

Fall came and I put out winter seeds. Broccoli,
cabbage, cauliflower, stuff like that, but hunting
season was coming on and my mind was more
on gearing up for it than the garden.  He stopped
by one morning, mid week when I was down there
and commented on how well the plants were
doing. I told him that if he wanted to keep a
check on it he was welcome to anything he
wanted because I would be tied up for the next
three months with hunting and work. I had no
time for the garden that time of year.  I went to
the garden once or twice during the week and
picked a few things to take to camp but I noticed
that the vegetables were getting very large and
hadn't been picked and cut. The weeds were
starting to show some too so I drove to the old
guy's apartment. There was no one living there
so I went to the center and inquired. The two
old black cooks told me that Mr. Clark had died
and his wife was in a nursing home, the
Westside Nursing Home. That was around
the corner from my office, so the next morning
I went and saw Mrs. Clark. She said that Alvin
had died suddenly and her two sons were so
busy with their lives they couldn't have her in
her condition so she came there. We visited
awhile and that afternoon I went and told the
two cooks at the center if they would look after
the garden they could have all the vegetables
if they would share some with the folks at the
nursing home where Mrs. Clark was. They said
they would be glad to because they lived in town
and could take them by when they went home.

After deer season I stopped by the nursing
home. They told me Mrs. Clark had died a
couple weeks earlier, but she had something
for me. She handed me a plastic grocery bag.
In it were several envelopes. They were cards
from the old folks thanking me for all the fresh
stuff I had sent to them and one from Mrs. Clark,
the one I ran across in my desk today.  It said,
"Mr. Crider (I can't believe being addressed by
an eighty-something-year-old as Mr.), Alvin and
I so much appreciated all you have done for us
this past year. It reminded us of when we were
young and so full of energy to make things and
grow things to make our friends and families
happy like you do. We hope we can have a
garden in heaven together like yours. Love,
Cit'a Clark."  The next spring I took a load of
vegetables to the center. When the two old
cooks came out to help me unload, I told them
Alvin and Cit'a had sent these. They had that
"deer in headlights" look on their face.

By Mark Crider
mark@cccoating.com

Write Mark and let him know what you thought of his story!

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Mark & Sandra Crider live at their bird sanctuary in
Northwest Corpus Christi Texas and at their ranch
near Laredo.

Gardening is a pastime there that looks more like a
full time job to most folks. Several loads this spring
to the "Villa" assisted living / nursing home near them
can attest to it. The first load of tomatoes I took saw
an old woman get out of her wheelchair, struggle inside,
and announce, "We don't have to eat plastic tomatoes
for a while, Mr. Crider is here."  Sure made me feel good.

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REQUESTS:

Dear Michael and Readers,
     Please pray for Martin and Gracia Burnham, an American couple, who were
captured by the Philippine Muslim Terrorist Group a few months ago.  This couple
is part of a group of missionaries from the United States.  When they were
taken hostage by the terrorists, their children were returned by plane to the
United States.  Imagine the fear and worry of the children.  This is one of those
situations which I am leaving entirely in the hands of God.  I just pray with all
my heart that He will be with them every step of the way--loving, guiding, and
protecting.

Mary-Ellen Grisham "meg"
fantasy@apci.net
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  _
/_/\/\    MICHAEL T. POWERS
\_\  /    HeartTouchers@aol.com  
/_/  \    "For I have been crucified with Christ and I no
\_\/\ \   longer live, but Christ lives in me.  The life I
  \_\/   live in the body I live for the Son of God, who    
           loved me and gave Himself for me."
           Galatians 2:20
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"I thought of you first after my family sat down to watch
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and my dad did too. They said it was the best
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and so touched--they really, really, really loved it.
Thanks for helping to make it so special to us all.
My mom mentioned how the songs were perfect
for the video too! Thanks again!"
Kelli-- College Station, TX

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