Tomatoes
I was on my way to work when I first noticed him. He was talking to a street lamp. There's no end to the crazy people in the City, so like everyone else, I just kept on walking, noticing without noticing. Not feeling anything was key, though. One day, even though it began as any other, he noticed me. I tried a swivel move, but he was within my safety zone, so I stopped, held up my hands and said, "Whoa, bud. I'm on my way to work. No more time." As I began to swivel again, he said, "I know. I see you every day. I thought you might like a tomato for lunch." I couldn't believe this guy who only talked to street lamps had noticed me from the daily crowd, let alone that he was talking to me -- and that I was talking to him. "Would you like this tomato?" "Where did you get it?" I heard myself ask. "I grew it, here." He placed it in my hand, turned, and went back to talking to the street lamp. I grimaced, wondering about the germs on his hand, the germs on the tomato, the germs on my hand, and just when and where to drop it...
I sat down at my desk, tomato still in hand. Mrs. Peterson was first through the door, striding as only she could stride at seventy-something. She was our largest depositor. I stood to greet her, tomato still in hand. She noticed. "Did you grow it?" "Uh, yes. Yes I did. Gardening is one of my favorite hobbies." "I love tomatoes. May I have a slice?" "Oh God", I thought. "I'm going to kill Mrs. Peterson. Who knows where the hell this tomato came from..." She cleared her throat. "Sure", I said, "you can have the tomato if you want." She rummaged through her purse and came up with a baby version of a Swiss knife. "I'll slice it for us. Since you grew it, I'm sure it's organic, right?" "Of course!", I said, but, "Oh God" was all I could think. Right in her hand she sliced that goddamn tomato! She nibbled at a slice off her knife, as she handed me the rest. "Umm. Sweet, just how I like." Then, "Go ahead. Don't be shy. Eat up!" I heard myself mutter, "Oh God." She heard, too, and said, "A banker who prays! I'm glad my money's here!" She just stopped and watched me. I lifted my hand, edged off a slice, and slid it into my mouth. She smiled. "Isn't that the best tomato you've ever had?" She turned and walked right out of the bank -- without even doing any business... I dropped the uneaten portion of tomato into the trash and slumped into my chair. I survived -- but all day thought I'll make sure I never see that bastard again. I'll walk down E Street, it might be a nicer walk anyway. Why the heck did Mrs. Peterson come into the bank if she did no business...
So, it was E Street, a perfect day for a perfect walk. One corner here and, "Goddamn it! What the hell you doing here?" I shout to the street lamp tomato bastard. He grins, and hands me a box of goddamn tomatoes! Entering the bank, I set the box by the welcome sign. My good deed for the day... At 11:45 I hurry across the street to my Rotary meeting. George says to me, "I saw Jimmy give you a box of tomatoes this morning. Most folks don't even give him the time of day. Glad to see you did." I ask him why, I just knew him as the street lamp guy. "He used to be my neighbor. He had a lovely wife and three kids. They were all killed in an auto accident just a few miles out of town, a drunk driver. A pick-up loaded with tomatoes hit them. The drunk driver died too. Jimmy's been growing tomatoes ever since and giving them away, and talking to street lamps. He lives behind widow Peterson's shed. I think she banks at your place, right?"
Based on a True Story