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A good story
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VictoriaB
Sep 22, 2020, 3:17:38 AM9/22/20
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A neighbor asked for a tomato. This is where the story gets weird
By Gene Weingarten, Columnist, The Washington Post
September 17, 2020
The following account is completely true, and, no, there is nothing
funny about it.
I was on my laptop in the dining room of my rowhouse in downtown
Washington, D.C., when someone rapped at the window. There was a man
there, in my backyard. This is a good neighborhood, but a gritty one.
Cautiously, I cracked the door.
The man was maskless, but as soon as he saw me, he stepped back a few
feet, creating a social distance, a move that seemed friendly. He was
in his early 30s, powerfully built. I opened the door fully.
“My name is Seth,” he said. “I’m a neighbor, and I see you walking
your big brown dog, and sometimes a cat is with you.” All true.
He had
established his bona fides. “My mother just died, and she loved
cooking green tomatoes.” He nodded toward my small tomato garden.
“Could I take a tomato, in her honor?”
He seemed winningly earnest. “You can’t take a tomato,” I said, “but
you can take five or six. Just help yourself.”
He looked at me, and then back at the garden. “Can I take a whole
plant?” he asked. He sensed my suspicion: It would give him pleasure
to watch the tomatoes grow, he explained, cooking them up when they
were large and green enough, the way his ma did.
My garden isn’t a garden so much as 17 big plastic pots with a plant
in each. There isn’t much dirt in the inner city, so I’d imported my
own. His request was a little ... odd, but you know. His ma. I
invited
him to choose a plant, and he did, and waddled off with it. They’re
pretty heavy.
A couple of days later I met him in the street. He was still
maskless,
but this time was also shirtless. He reminded me who he was and
wanted
to thank me again for the tomato plants.
Plants?
“I came back at night and took another one.”
Silence. He indignantly asked me to thank him for thanking me for
the plants.
“You stole a plant,” I said.
At this point he launched into a high-pitched, high-decibel
condemnation of me. It was personal and nasty. He also informed me
that he owned five houses and that I should be compassionate and make
allowances because his mother had died. I began backing away into my
house. He asked me if I had anything to tell him — he really, really
wanted that thank you — and I responded that what I most wanted to
tell him was to wear a mask.
The next day, there were firetrucks in front of my house. A
firefighter told me that there had been an altercation involving a
neighbor and a firefighter was injured. The other end of the
block was
all police cars. One of the cops told me that a man had been selling
scrounged goods illegally from a nearby parking lot, and that when he
was confronted, he became violent and smashed the window of a
firetruck. I looked at the assemblage of scrounged goods. Among the
items — a door, some clothes hangers, a broken kids’ bike — there was
at least one big plastic flower pot; no plants inside.
The officer said the man was being taken into custody. He nodded
toward a police van. From inside I heard someone screaming, “Let me
go! My mother died! My mother died!”
Ah.
The next day I stopped at a neighborhood convenience store near where
Seth had been apprehended. The proprietor, whom I know well, told me
Seth had been a nice man, a good customer, until recently, when he
began to act erratically. I asked him if Seth had been released from
jail yet. That’s usually what happens with relatively minor crimes.
He looked at me like I was nuts.
“He won’t be released,” he said.
Why?
“He’s been charged with murder. He strangled his mother.”
v
--
https://www.thefarside.com/
By Gene Weingarten, Columnist, The Washington Post
September 17, 2020
The following account is completely true, and, no, there is nothing
funny about it.
I was on my laptop in the dining room of my rowhouse in downtown
Washington, D.C., when someone rapped at the window. There was a man
there, in my backyard. This is a good neighborhood, but a gritty one.
Cautiously, I cracked the door.
The man was maskless, but as soon as he saw me, he stepped back a few
feet, creating a social distance, a move that seemed friendly. He was
in his early 30s, powerfully built. I opened the door fully.
“My name is Seth,” he said. “I’m a neighbor, and I see you walking
your big brown dog, and sometimes a cat is with you.” All true.
He had
established his bona fides. “My mother just died, and she loved
cooking green tomatoes.” He nodded toward my small tomato garden.
“Could I take a tomato, in her honor?”
He seemed winningly earnest. “You can’t take a tomato,” I said, “but
you can take five or six. Just help yourself.”
He looked at me, and then back at the garden. “Can I take a whole
plant?” he asked. He sensed my suspicion: It would give him pleasure
to watch the tomatoes grow, he explained, cooking them up when they
were large and green enough, the way his ma did.
My garden isn’t a garden so much as 17 big plastic pots with a plant
in each. There isn’t much dirt in the inner city, so I’d imported my
own. His request was a little ... odd, but you know. His ma. I
invited
him to choose a plant, and he did, and waddled off with it. They’re
pretty heavy.
A couple of days later I met him in the street. He was still
maskless,
but this time was also shirtless. He reminded me who he was and
wanted
to thank me again for the tomato plants.
Plants?
“I came back at night and took another one.”
Silence. He indignantly asked me to thank him for thanking me for
the plants.
“You stole a plant,” I said.
At this point he launched into a high-pitched, high-decibel
condemnation of me. It was personal and nasty. He also informed me
that he owned five houses and that I should be compassionate and make
allowances because his mother had died. I began backing away into my
house. He asked me if I had anything to tell him — he really, really
wanted that thank you — and I responded that what I most wanted to
tell him was to wear a mask.
The next day, there were firetrucks in front of my house. A
firefighter told me that there had been an altercation involving a
neighbor and a firefighter was injured. The other end of the
block was
all police cars. One of the cops told me that a man had been selling
scrounged goods illegally from a nearby parking lot, and that when he
was confronted, he became violent and smashed the window of a
firetruck. I looked at the assemblage of scrounged goods. Among the
items — a door, some clothes hangers, a broken kids’ bike — there was
at least one big plastic flower pot; no plants inside.
The officer said the man was being taken into custody. He nodded
toward a police van. From inside I heard someone screaming, “Let me
go! My mother died! My mother died!”
Ah.
The next day I stopped at a neighborhood convenience store near where
Seth had been apprehended. The proprietor, whom I know well, told me
Seth had been a nice man, a good customer, until recently, when he
began to act erratically. I asked him if Seth had been released from
jail yet. That’s usually what happens with relatively minor crimes.
He looked at me like I was nuts.
“He won’t be released,” he said.
Why?
“He’s been charged with murder. He strangled his mother.”
v
--
https://www.thefarside.com/
S
Sep 25, 2020, 7:48:32 PM9/25/20
to
BTW, this group isn't available on ES, so I don't know if
Sn!pe or anyone on that server can get here.
I've changed my nym for this post so MAD can't google
group stalk me here. 60+ is looking a bit better. Might
be worth a go at posting there again.
VictoriaB
Sep 26, 2020, 5:35:04 AM9/26/20
to
S wrote:
>
> On Tue, 22 Sep 2020 02:17:35 -0500, VictoriaB wrote:
>>
>> A neighbor asked for a tomato. This is where the story gets
>> weird
>>
>> By Gene Weingarten, Columnist, The Washington Post
>> September 17, 2020
>>
[..]
>
> On Tue, 22 Sep 2020 02:17:35 -0500, VictoriaB wrote:
>>
>> A neighbor asked for a tomato. This is where the story gets
>> weird
>>
>> By Gene Weingarten, Columnist, The Washington Post
>> September 17, 2020
>>
>
> That was a good story, V! :-) BTW, this group isn't available
> on ES, so I don't know if Sn!pe or anyone on that server can
> get here. I've changed my nym for this post so MAD can't
> google group stalk me here. 60+ is looking a bit better. Might
> be worth a go at posting there again.
>
~~~
> That was a good story, V! :-) BTW, this group isn't available
> on ES, so I don't know if Sn!pe or anyone on that server can
> get here. I've changed my nym for this post so MAD can't
> google group stalk me here. 60+ is looking a bit better. Might
> be worth a go at posting there again.
>
Hey there.... you birdy-guy! Glad that you liked the story. Sorry
that this group isn't available to all, was afraid of that, I
really like the name. ;)
v
--
https://www.thefarside.com/
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