(I published this column in 2006. This year there’s another pumpkin shortage in certain areas and I thought this might be appropriate reading this week.)
Good grief, Charlie Brown, there’s a dark cloud hovering over the Great Pumpkin patch. It’s almost Halloween: a time for tykes to trick and treat, a time of general amnesty for ghosts and goblins, witches and werewolves, a time to costume up and carve that pumpkin. Whoa! Not so fast. Do you know where your next pumpkin’s coming from?
I thought not.
No one plans pumpkin acquisitions because they’re pretty much on every vacant lot this time of year; the same place you pick up your Christmas tree and, if you live in a boom-friendly state, your firecrackers. I bet you were thinking you’d dash out in late October, drop a few simoleons in a pot and run home with a twenty-pound orange fruit ready to sculpt into a grinning, missing-every-other-tooth monster. (Sorry to be the one breaking this news: botanically, pumpkins are not vegetables even though we cook them as such. The pumpkin is actually the State fruit of New Hampshire, narrowly beating out a choreographer named Bruce.)
Well, my friends, this Halloween may be different. The Great Pumpkin may be a no show. There’s a national pumpkin shortage in much of the country because of strong rains and extreme heat. That means there aren’t enough pumpkins for everyone. It’s gonna get ugly out there in pumpkin land.
A pumpkin shortage is not like a gas shortage where you can still get gas if you wait in line long enough. Even if you have no gas, you can always take public transportation to work, or car pool, or call in sick. There are no pumpkin substitutes; cantaloupes just don’t cut it. THIS IS A NATIONAL EMERGENCY. Fathers who don’t want to face the emasculation of small children sobbing, “No pumpkin. Why-y-y-y, Daddy?” will be playing hardball in the 2008 Pumpkin Wars. Some will be carrying credit cards with no spending limit, the WMDs of consumer warfare.
My neighbors and I feel sorry for the people in the East and the Midwest having to hunker down through this time of hardship, we even know some of those people. But it’s not our fault; we live in California, the nation’s bread and fruit basket and the Governator hasn’t said anything yet about a Cucurbita crisis nor has he called the California National Guard back from watching the Mexican border.
Breathing easier? Don’t.
Sit down and check if you have any of the brain cells that attended Mrs. McGruder’s third grade math class. If you were a rancher in the Monterrey area, or wherever these orange zucchini are grown; if you had acres and acres of pumpkins maturing right on schedule; if you read in the paper that Eastern distributors were offering a 50% premium for jacks suitable for carving into o’lanterns, how long do you think your pumpkins would stay situated on the south forty? Can you count to three?
Unless Californians do something, and fast, all their Halloween fun is going to be exported elsewhere, maybe even to (gasp!) New Jersey so some wannabee Soprano brat can practice with his paring knife.
I THINK the California legislature should immediately impose an export restriction on state-grown pumpkins, except for those sold to manufacturers of pumpkin pie mix who are, I’m sure, large campaign contributors. Let’s also disallow shipping pumpkins to Canada. Even though our northern neighbors sent troops to help out in Iraq, that doesn’t grant them any gourd rights. Sorry, that’s the way the pumpkin pounces; we’re protecting a national holiday here.
The legislature should also pass a law prohibiting people from purchasing pumpkins not destined to become Jack o’lanterns. In plush pumpkin years I’m all in favor of giant pumpkin weigh-offs, pumpkin pie eating contests and Martha Stewart porches festooned with pumpkins, gourds and fall foliage. This year, every uncarved pumpkin deprives a young person of a funfilling Halloween, and Bush promised to leave no child behind.
What can YOU do? I’m going to buy a really green pumpkin right now, plop it on the deck facing the sun and pray it oranges up and doesn’t rot before the end of the month.
And don’t think you can sneak in a K-Mart plastic pumpkin or even a large squash. Your children will know the difference and it is trick or treat time.
###
A related Halloween article from last year is at: Halloween: The Real Story
Good grief, Charlie Brown, there’s a dark cloud hovering over the Great Pumpkin patch. It’s almost Halloween: a time for tykes to trick and treat, a time of general amnesty for ghosts and goblins, witches and werewolves, a time to costume up and carve that pumpkin. Whoa! Not so fast. Do you know where your next pumpkin’s coming from?
I thought not.
No one plans pumpkin acquisitions because they’re pretty much on every vacant lot this time of year; the same place you pick up your Christmas tree and, if you live in a boom-friendly state, your firecrackers. I bet you were thinking you’d dash out in late October, drop a few simoleons in a pot and run home with a twenty-pound orange fruit ready to sculpt into a grinning, missing-every-other-tooth monster. (Sorry to be the one breaking this news: botanically, pumpkins are not vegetables even though we cook them as such. The pumpkin is actually the State fruit of New Hampshire, narrowly beating out a choreographer named Bruce.)
Well, my friends, this Halloween may be different. The Great Pumpkin may be a no show. There’s a national pumpkin shortage in much of the country because of strong rains and extreme heat. That means there aren’t enough pumpkins for everyone. It’s gonna get ugly out there in pumpkin land.
A pumpkin shortage is not like a gas shortage where you can still get gas if you wait in line long enough. Even if you have no gas, you can always take public transportation to work, or car pool, or call in sick. There are no pumpkin substitutes; cantaloupes just don’t cut it. THIS IS A NATIONAL EMERGENCY. Fathers who don’t want to face the emasculation of small children sobbing, “No pumpkin. Why-y-y-y, Daddy?” will be playing hardball in the 2008 Pumpkin Wars. Some will be carrying credit cards with no spending limit, the WMDs of consumer warfare.
My neighbors and I feel sorry for the people in the East and the Midwest having to hunker down through this time of hardship, we even know some of those people. But it’s not our fault; we live in California, the nation’s bread and fruit basket and the Governator hasn’t said anything yet about a Cucurbita crisis nor has he called the California National Guard back from watching the Mexican border.
Breathing easier? Don’t.
Sit down and check if you have any of the brain cells that attended Mrs. McGruder’s third grade math class. If you were a rancher in the Monterrey area, or wherever these orange zucchini are grown; if you had acres and acres of pumpkins maturing right on schedule; if you read in the paper that Eastern distributors were offering a 50% premium for jacks suitable for carving into o’lanterns, how long do you think your pumpkins would stay situated on the south forty? Can you count to three?
Unless Californians do something, and fast, all their Halloween fun is going to be exported elsewhere, maybe even to (gasp!) New Jersey so some wannabee Soprano brat can practice with his paring knife.
I THINK the California legislature should immediately impose an export restriction on state-grown pumpkins, except for those sold to manufacturers of pumpkin pie mix who are, I’m sure, large campaign contributors. Let’s also disallow shipping pumpkins to Canada. Even though our northern neighbors sent troops to help out in Iraq, that doesn’t grant them any gourd rights. Sorry, that’s the way the pumpkin pounces; we’re protecting a national holiday here.
The legislature should also pass a law prohibiting people from purchasing pumpkins not destined to become Jack o’lanterns. In plush pumpkin years I’m all in favor of giant pumpkin weigh-offs, pumpkin pie eating contests and Martha Stewart porches festooned with pumpkins, gourds and fall foliage. This year, every uncarved pumpkin deprives a young person of a funfilling Halloween, and Bush promised to leave no child behind.
What can YOU do? I’m going to buy a really green pumpkin right now, plop it on the deck facing the sun and pray it oranges up and doesn’t rot before the end of the month.
And don’t think you can sneak in a K-Mart plastic pumpkin or even a large squash. Your children will know the difference and it is trick or treat time.
###
A related Halloween article from last year is at: Halloween: The Real Story
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Comments: 126
Oh, maybe a pumpkin carriage gets poor mileage and with gas prices these days ...
After it appeared in the local newspaper someone stole it.
Can't figure out how they did it. I practically needed a forklift to get it to the front of the barn!
(A quick Google showed shortages in the East and selected midwest states.)
lol, thanks for sharing, John. You are a very weird fellow. lol
As always, a good read and thanks for the laughs!
Oh, leave it to our friends up north to rub our noses in their pumpkin largess! Hugs to the Canucks!
Thanks for the offer, I think I'll pass this year, given the economy and all.
(When I was a kid we used to watch the Dodgers in Ebbets Field, Brooklyn. The favorite taunt from the bleachers was "Your mother chews rutabegas."
What was with that?)
Maybe global warming is the death-knell for Halloween as we know it.
If that's the case, "Gentlemen: Stop your engines!"
There are a couple farms on the way to Green Bay that have lots, so the shortage may not be so severe here. Funny article.
Remember, if Cinderella hadn't trusted pumpkins ...
Now, don't cut it too soon. Lot of rotted pumpkin stories floating around here today.
I think so — the magical plant that spins fairy tales and carries children on wondrous adventures.
Loved your story.
Happy Halloween, John-dear.
I always keep one pumpkin whole...still believe it has a chance to be a wonderful method of transportation
I don't need to wait in line to get gas or pumpkins or gas from pumpkins.
I get some good ideas from your stories, I may send you a pumpkin.
And, no, you won't get away with that, clever as it is.
The pumpkin is actually the State fruit of New Hampshire, narrowly beating out a choreographer named Bruce.) lolol!
You know I actually had a Mrs Macgruder in 3rd grade...
Ewww Robert. Only you....I'm gonna get Streaker after you...
Wonderful tale, John. Thanks for the smile!
If Streaker won't sic Robert, use one of your dogs.
Everyone who commented take a bow.
I think a lot of people will be doing what you are.
Including yours, I guess.
Not that there's anything wrong it that, Olivia. :)
Remember to watch Charlie Brown this year.
Especially this time of year.
Maybe it's the sign that says "The Halloween ghost will haunt you if you steal."
You wouldn't know there was a shortage around here!
I say "Carve while you can." I expect shortly some New Age scientists will claim that pumpkins have feelings, poems will be written, songs will be sung, and laws will be passed making pumpkin desecration a thing of the past.
Thanks for the info, now please alert your local authorities ...
Seems to me there have always been a lot of pumpkins in Michigan ... sorry, I mispelled that. :)
I forgot about the squirrels. The few out here are pretty puny.
Te he!
I have two!!
Yippee!!
I guess I'm just very intuitive.