Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Is confessing to an crime you're not guilty of still good for the soul?

Okay, Blogger surrendered and let me upload a picture of me and my grandma.
I've just gotten home from visiting my parents and my grandmother and enjoying the warmer North Carolina weather. It may take me a few days to catch up with things as I will be busy catching up around here.

While I was at my grandmothers, I thought about this incident and wrote the following. I still didn't tell her the truth. Enjoy...

“Did you cut one, Sage?”

“What?” I shout back while thinking “Did my grandmother ask what I thought she asked?”

“Did you cut one?”

She never spoke so crudely before; she’s sounding like a seventh grade boy. Why was she asking if I’d farted? And how could she even tell, she’s on the other side of the tree?

“Yes, a little one,” I say, my face red with shame.

“Don’t be doing that,” she said. “Put your knife up. These aren’t our peaches; they don’t belong to us until we pay for them.”

“That’s why she’s talking about,” I think to myself. “How do I get out of this situation?”

Grandma’s a literalist. She thought I had cut a peach with my knife and I was thinking like a Junior High boy. I’m thirteen years old and spending a week with my grandparents. Most evenings I’d been out fishing with my granddad, but this evening the three of us are over to J. B. Coles’ orchard over near West End picking peaches. Cole has the big “redskin” peaches. They’re so juicy that when you bit into one, peach juice runs down your chin. I am careful when putting them into the baskets, making sure they’re not bruised. After picking several bushels, we pay the man at the shed out by the road and drive home. That night before bed we have fresh peaches over angel food cake, topped with whipped cream. The next morning we have peaches in our cereal. A few peaches are saved for a container of home made ice cream to be fixed on Sunday afternoon, but most of them my grandmother cans in quart Mason Jars, saving them for cobblers she’ll make on wintry afternoons.

It’s said that confession is good for the soul. I’m not sure that includes confessing for transgressions not committed, but since I’m sure there are a few misdemeanors I’ve overlooked, confessing for this one transgression didn’t do me any harm. I never told my grandma that I confused cutting a peach with passing gas and there is no reason to bring it up now, decades later.


  1. You have impressive genes. I can't believe your grandmother is still alive. I also can't believe that you eat the furry outside of peaches. Blah! Thank God for someone that wants to peel them, slice them and can them at a Dole plant somewhere.

  2. Murf has absolutely no sense of adventure. Peach skins are awesome!

    I never assume when it comes to conversations. I make them be specific before I confess.

  3. Ed, I am happy leaving the eating of things with a hair-like covering to you and Sage. :-)

  4. Yes, Murf, my grandmother is still alive and I had planned to put a picture of the two of us up, but blogger didn't let me. BTW, she also started young--my father was born when she was 17.

    As for peaches, I have eaten the skins, but normally do peel them. And fresh peaches beats anything you'd get in a can.

    Ed, The danger of making assumptions were not so apparent to me as a 13 year old.

  5. ooh i like the velvet skin!
    it's all in the contrasts :)

    very cute story sweetie.

    i love todays word veri (i might have start using it regularly)...

    it's very 'evoksunt'

  6. You're so funny.

    I can just smell those fresh peaches! I am so glad warm weather is on its way. I guess it is a big difference from there to here. We really haven't had a bad winter this year.

    Looking forward to the pics if Blogger ever surrenders.

  7. lucky you on your vacation and a chance to get away from this poopie Michigan weather.

    Have Fun!!

  8. That was an adorable story. Don't think she minds. 13 year old boys are known for....

    Hope you had a great vacation

  9. Keda, one day you're going to have to explain those words to me...

    Deana, fresh peaches from the NC sandhills are just wonderful, ain't they?

    Karen, I was away, but am back... I hope we're not going to lose all the snow due to the rain.

    Pia, At the time I'm sure she might have thought it funny, but I was to shameful to admit to my confusion.

  10. mmmm - peaches, angel food cake and whipped cream . . . is it time for lunch yet?

    p.s. very funny story!

  11. Great story as usual. Funny and memorable. Hope you had a great time visiting family.

    PS - I have a pet question on my blog, I'm not sure but I think you might be qualified to answer it.

  12. Cute picture. Grandma must like you in light blue too. Was the picture taken on this trip?

  13. Diane, I like the peach ice cream! Or the raw peachs with juice making my beard sticky

    V, it was a great time and I did my best to answer your pet question. If you get a pet chicken, don't bring home any KFC

    Murf, that picture is barely 36 hours old

  14. I could have sworn I left a comment here yesterday. My post is about the same thing tonight...teehee.

    Sage, you left NC too soon. It was 68* here today!

  15. what a blessing to still have your grandma!

  16. I'm sure Grandma knew at the time what you thought she meant, but she was smart not to encourage it. The photo of you and your grandmother is precious.

    And now for the rest of the day, I will have Presidents of the United States of America in my head:

    Millions of peaches, peaches for free...

  17. I am so tickled to see the picture of you and your grandma. She is just a doll!

  18. Man, what I'd give for some homemade peach ice cream!!! You sure know how to make a fellar hungry!!!

  19. ha! i had no idea where your story might go. i was thinking at first that it was going to be terribly serious. now i'm laughing my arse off with the stark juxtaposition of expectation and what is here. this makes me very happy. i'm glad you shared it, sage))