Acts of Kindness on a Southern Sojourn

My best guess is that it fell off the back of one of the campers racing toward a weekend on the Gulf of Mexico. I had seen several such caravans in the preceding hours: chairs, bicycles, umbrellas and other bric-a-brac that had no assigned storage space, and so were tied or bungee-corded to the vehicle. If you hit enough bumps and don’t inspect your lashings every time you take a break from the road, something will inevitably come loose.

The ’something’ was an aluminum beach chair; the kind you can buy at Ocean State Job Lot for ten bucks. The chair had already been struck at least once; likely by a high-riding SUV or truck which crushed and bent it. In the instant I saw the object before our car, too, ran over it, I remember the gaudy colored plastic mesh that formed the seat and back of the chair.

A Prius rides very low to the ground

Our vehicle, though, is a Prius; and part of the design of the Prius that adds to its well-deserved fuel-sipping reputation is that it rides lower to the ground than those ubiquitous SUVs and pickups. When one of our tires passed over the debris, one or more pieces of aluminum obeyed the laws of physics and angled upward, snagging the undercarriage of our car. Betty and I heard the crunch but assumed we had merely further flattened the carcass.

Fifteen seconds later, our assumption was proven wrong. HYBRID DRIVE COMPROMISED – PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY AND SEEK ASSISTANCE appeared on the Prius’ display. We quickly did so, guiding our vehicle to the breakdown lane. Getting out of the car, we discovered a clear liquid was puddling underneath it.

Thus began eight days of discovering that there is a stunning amount of kindness in this world.

We were on that road – Interstate 59 in Hattiesburg, Mississippi – because, a year earlier, I had accepted an invitation from the Deep South Region of National Garden Clubs to be the speaker at the Friday luncheon of their annual convention, to be held in New Orleans. I would present ‘Gardening Is Murder’ to an audience where few (if any) of the attendees knew of me or my books. I was being presented with an opportunity to reach 150 prospective readers by delivering a humorous talk about gardening from a spouse’s point of view.

Our 1526-mile drive. We almost made it.

It is 1526 miles from Medfield, Massachusetts to New Orleans (22 hours and 48 minutes of driving, according to Google Maps) and Jet Blue will get you there in 3 hours and 40 minutes. But, in addition to providing laughter coupled with a modicum of horticulture to a receptive audience, my mission was also to sell books. The cost of separately shipping books, displays, and banners would make the trip economically impractical. With a vehicle that averaged 64 miles per gallon though, I could make the trip within the travel stipend agreed to by the convention organizers.

Betty made it clear there was no way I going to make the journey alone. We would share driving duties; leaving our home early on Wednesday, stopping overnight in Tennessee, and arriving in New Orleans in time for a 4 p.m. reception on Thursday.  It was a good plan and, but for that beach chair, we would have made it with an hour to spare.

A call to AAA got us a tow to Toyota of Hattiesburg. I had already been on the phone with one of the dealership’s service advisors, Michael Metzger. He quickly understood our predicament and offered to intercede to help with a car rental. Ordinarily, such a task would be easy; but this was the beginning of spring break for area colleges and all cars in the region were spoken for. Through a series of direct calls to local agencies rather than through impersonal call centers, he found a vehicle we could have for two days; but must be returned to Hattiesburg by noon Saturday. Once our Prius was at the dealership, Mike also got us to the car rental agency ten minutes before its 5 p.m. closing time.

The second kindness came from the organizers of the convention, and especially from Convention Co-chair Elizabeth McDougald, who had hired me a year earlier. We arrived after 7 p.m. – long after that reception and also as dessert was being served at the evening awards dinner.  We were quietly seated and fed, our room key already in our hand. The following morning as I set up my books display, I found everyone at the conference knew of our on-the-road travails; a general announcement had been made. It would not be an overstatement to say more than a hundred people said they were glad me made it to the convention and wished us a safe return home.

We were left with a dilemma, however. Our Prius had been thoroughly examined early Friday morning. The lawn chair had damaged our radiator, A/C coolant line, fans, and fan housings. None of these were in-stock parts; all had been ordered but would not arrive until at least Monday. Repairs and road testing would push our departure to Tuesday at the earliest - possibly until Wednesday - and Thursday if additional problems were found. Our rental car had a hard return time of Saturday at noon. We could be stuck in a hotel room in Hattiesburg with no means of transportation for at least four days; possibly six.

Better this than five days in a
Hattiesburg motel room

Thus came the third kindness. While I delivered my lunch presentation, Elizabeth McDougald’s husband, Glenn, researched travel options. By 3 p.m., Betty and I had seats on a Jet Blue flight back to Boston leaving that evening. Elizabeth offered to gather and store all the books and other paraphernalia we would be unable to take with us on the flight. The McDougalds also said they would arrange for the return of our rental car.

Once at the airport, we emailed our neighbor, Jane Cobb, who was performing cat-sitting duties, to let her know we were arriving home a day early and so she need not give Abigail her morning feeding. Ten minutes later, our cell phone rang asking what time out plane landed at Logan Airport and how did we plan to get home? We said we would take a taxi because of the post-midnight arrival. Jane replied she would meet us outside baggage claim and would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

On Monday morning, Mike Metzger let us know the parts were in hand and a body shop was already straightening out housing brackets. Mike suggested our Prius could be ready as early as Tuesday afternoon. I have never known a repair to go so quickly. We had assumed we would fly into New Orleans, use an Uber to collect our stranded belongings from the McDougalds, and then continue in the Uber to Hattiesburg at some astronomical price.

An act of kindness

Instead, we had yet additional acts of kindness. If we could fly into Mobile, Alabama, instead of New Orleans, Elizabeth and Glenn would meet us at that airport with our peripatetic possessions and drop us off in Hattiesburg on their way back to New Orleans. A quick look at a map showed Hattiesburg is ‘on the way’ to New Orleans from Mobile in the same way Albany is on the way from Boston to New York City. We gratefully agreed to the offer.

Our final hurdle: 20 minutes to go 
3600 feet (2/3 of a mile)

More kindnesses: Jane Cobb’s spouse, Dennis Amtower, drove us to Logan for an 8:00 a.m. flight (for which you leave Medfield at 5:45 a.m. to cope with morning rush hour traffic and TSA inspection). We made our connection in Charlotte – a 3600-foot sprint – with just minutes to spare and arrived in Mobile just after noon. Mike Metzger had our car prepped and ready when the McDougalds dropped us off in Hattiesburg. We were on our way back to New England at 2:30 p.m.

So many things could have gone wrong along the way. But they didn’t. And, thanks to a group of people – most of whom we had never met before last week – what could have been an unmitigated disaster was instead only a time-consuming (albeit expensive) mishap. I have three more speaking ‘road trips’ on my schedule this Spring, with destinations in South Carolina, Illinois and Michigan.

There are three more 'road trips' 
scheduled this Spring.

In hindsight, at 1500+ miles each way, New Orleans was probably too far to drive. Illinois will almost be certainly done by air, and I will figure out a way to ship books ahead of schedule. But Myrtle Beach is an (almost) leisurely 850 miles and Michigan (819 miles) features a dual speaking engagement with me at noon and Betty at 2 p.m.

Though I have lived 'up north'  for almost all of my adult life, I am a son of the South, and this trip reinforced the notion there is something both real and very special about 'Southern Hospitality'. No matter how the rest of this speaking season goes, I will forever remember the kindness we discovered on our sojourn to New Orleans.

Gardeners Wanted

For the past 14 years, Betty and I have performed an end-of-winter task that is equal parts sheer joy and pulling teeth: We’ve filled a community vegetable garden with gardeners. This year, we’re finding that job isn’t an easy one.

In an age of sticker shock in the vegetable aisle,
a garden ought to be a no-brainer

In an age of sticker shock in the vegetable aisles and an emphasis on eating wholesome foods, you would think that finding 75 gung-ho gardeners ought to be as easy as announcing the availability of plots and then jumping back to avoid being trampled… especially when 90% of your gardeners from last year tell you in November they’re ‘definitely coming back’.

The reality, for reasons I’ll attempt to explain, is quite different. Let’s start with the 90% ‘count-us-in-for-next-year’ rate. If that statistic held true, we would be looking for seven or eight new gardeners each year. Why did that handful of last year’s gardeners drop out? Mostly, they tried the garden for a season and discovered it was harder than they thought, or not as much fun. That is to be expected. In addition, at least one or two gardeners ‘age out’ each year because of their own decreased mobility. There’s also another kind of ‘aging out’ in which six-year-olds who once thrilled at the idea of going to play in the dirt with Mommy were now tweens who would rather lose their screen privileges for a week than be seen in a vegetable garden – and Mommy’s biggest reason for having the garden was to educate her children. That scenario plays out several times a year.

The other problem is that people’s lives get in the way. Over the winter, three full-plot holders – all excellent gardeners – moved out of town and so are no longer eligible for a space. Two other long-timers are having Big Events this summer and need to take the year off. A mother and daughter who had separate plots decided to share one. Add to all those stories the three abandoned plots that became food pantry gardens last year and we found ourselves with twenty vacant spaces for the 2023 season.

Fortunately, three long-time gardeners who until this year had made do with half-plots (300 square feet) asked to upgrade to full ones. I quickly emailed them and granted their wish. In theory, all I was doing was swapping one vacancy for another; I still need to find a new gardener for their old plot. Well, yes, but I’ve filled a vacant full plot that might otherwise be carved into two smaller ones (as a policy, we ask first-year gardeners to begin with a half-plot).

To fill these twenty spaces, we started a media blitz. Medfield has a weekly ‘shopper’-style newspaper delivered to every home. I wrote an article and submitted some great photos. We made the front page! There is an online news outlet called Patch dedicated to all things Medfield which published a second article. There are also two or three Facebook groups dedicated to things going on in Medfield. Those sites are being peppered with photos of happy gardeners, lush gardens, and cornucopia of perfect vegetables.

The result of that publicity barrage, as of this morning, is eight gardeners who have sent checks and a few more who promise to do so. Which leaves nine gardens still to fill.

'Weeding' went to the top of the
'Gardening Guidelines'

There have been other queries. Everyone who calls or emails is sent a peppy, encouraging response that encourages would-be gardener to take the next step. But my response also includes an attachment – the Garden Guidelines.

We don’t have ‘rules’. ‘Rules’ smack of dictatorships. ‘Rules’ are totalitarian. ‘Guidelines’ are things everyone can agree to do, especially when they fit on one page. Each year Betty and I review and re-write the Guidelines with a view to addressing things that caused problems the previous season.  For example, a woodchuck wrought destruction in one garden, so burying fences six inches was elevated from a ‘nice thing to do’ to something expected of every plot holder.  Weeding aisles was also a problem last year. The gardener’s obligation to keep aisles weeded went from the middle of the page to the top.

We make certain everyone
knows the gardens do
require work.

Do the Guidelines scare off would-be gardeners? I think a more accurate description is that they are a reality check. A few years ago – and I promise I am not making this up – a husband and wife seeking a plot for the first time informed me they intended to plant their garden in mid-May but were thereafter going to their vacation home in Maine for six weeks with no plans to return to Medfield until late June at the earliest. Betty (who is the family diplomat) gently told them their expectation they would return to a weed-free garden lush with ready-to-pick vegetables was probably unrealistic. The couple passed on the garden.

In an average year, though, all the plots are filled by the second week in March and we have started a wait list for the inevitable handful of people who change their minds about gardening after the season begins.

The world has re-opened

This year, I have a queasy feeling those last plots are going to hard sells. During the pandemic, we had a virtual monopoly on ‘acceptable’ outdoor mask-free activities. Even if you were tepid about the idea of vegetable gardening, the idea of getting out of your house and into the sunshine three or four days a week for a few hours was irresistible.  Three years later, the world has re-opened and Spain or Yellowstone National Park or New Zealand beckon. Being tied to a garden is an obligation fewer people are willing to undertake.

We will make it work. As noted above, last year’s abandoned plots became gardens dedicated to growing produce for food pantries. That turned out well because of the dedication of half a dozen participants with hearts of gold. Let’s see how this year unfolds.