Readers Who Write

I grew up in the South, and farmers had truck farms where they would grow vegetables. At the end of the season, the farmers would let the public come in and clean out the fields.

My mom decided to go pick tomatoes that were left in the fields and can them for the winter. So off we went — mom and me, my sister, Annie, and her two small boys. We picked all morning — I eventually got bored and restless and got the bright idea to walk into town where things would be more interesting. I also decided to take my nephew, Douglas, on this adventure with me.

When no one was looking, we sneaked out to the road and headed for town. About a half-hour later here came my sister, as mad as an old wet hen. They had missed us and followed our footprints in the dirt — of course we were barefooted.

Annie ripped a small limb off a bush and whipped my legs, crying all the while from worry. She put us in the car and took us back to the field where mom added her 2 cents worth to my punishment.

We went home shortly after that. I was about 8 years old and was honestly puzzled as to why they were so mad.

I grew up and had two boys of my own. When they did naughty things — as boys are wont to do — I remembered my adventure at the tomato patch and went easier on them, remembering how puzzled I had been as to why my sister and mom were so mad at me.

So you say you want to write?

Go for it.

Send us 500 or so words of scintillating copy. Make it funny. Make it poignant. Make it count. Make it any way you want.

Just don’t cuss. Don’t be boring. And have a point.

If we like it, we’ll run it.

Email submissions to community@rv-times.com. Put “Readers Who Write” in the subject line, and tell us the city where you live.