Uncle saul
By mm. pronounced mhm
This poem was originally published in the SeedBroadcast agri-Culture Journal #24
I’m going to attempt to tell you some seed stories.
before I start I want to say I stutter and so my physiology naturally finds places for you to stop and reflect, enjoy.
grow.
it’s dark in here.
not aall the way dark like wwhere you can’t see
but dark
where it feels nice
and comfortable
everything feels like a haze
a deep malaise
and the energy is plump.
it feels safe in here
but what’s outside
have you ever asked yourself?
what’s on the other side
what would it take you to be curious
you can hear it!
it might be good
it might be bad
who knows?
I ask myself this question a lot
who knows? I don’t
and so I fill in the gaps with hope.
I’ve been seed keeping for a little over a month now
I think it’s the coolest job in the world
disclaimer this is agricultural propaganda
like real shit
I’m a farmer
who gets to grow with the things that I consume.
wwhat a beautiful gift it is. I’m eternally grateful for it.
but I mean it’s dope
take the story of the Charleston grey watermelon
this is paraphrased from the Instagram of Owen Taylor @seedkeeping
the Charleston grey watermelon
it’s grown by a black and Korean couple that lives in the Philadelphia area
apparently the husband had family down south who used to grow the watermelon and he wanted to grow it here
as it reminded us of a time when watermelon men would come up from the south and bring truck beds full of watermelon
what kind of watermelon could last that kind of journey you might ask
I’m hazy on the origins of this one so bear with me
but in 1954 a scientist I think associated with the ARDSS or SARSS or USDA or some government agency that would be associated with agriculture bred this specific watermelon that would be
oblong instead of perfectly round and have almost flat sides that would allow them to stack like boxes in the back of trucks
at some point the families had memories of uncles with Cadillacs scraping across the pavement because their trunks were so full with watermelons. [1]
at some point in my own family Uncle Saul was one of these watermelon men.
he was my grandfather who I never met’s favorite uncle.
and according to my uncle and father, a child of the deep south, a one stop light town in south central Alabama to be exact,
“didn’t have a tooth in his mouth and yet he still ate anything and everything.
He loved watermelon.”
a yellow-meated one in specific
and “peanuts were another big thing … he used to get raw peanuts from the garden or store and cook them himself”
he was a black farmer, overalls and all.
Thank you Uncle Saul.
how’d I do?
be honest but remember I’m a seed so please
be gentle.
References
The Philadelphia family who steward the Charleston Grey Watermelon are named Mr. Aundrae and Mrs. Sheila Cassell. https://trueloveseeds.com/products/charleston-grey-watermelon?_pos=1&_sid=0d73554e7&_ss=r
While the quest for self-definition is continuous identities that resonate with mm. include. black (increasingly inclusive on afro-latin(ness) as they learn to communicate in their mother tongue), stutterer, athlete, thinker, maker, lover, and friend. Those identities manifest themselves in many avenues including agriculture, the written word, the spoken word, filmmaking, prototyping, relationship building and storytelling.
Jersey bred,
Dartmouth proud,
wishing upon my stars,
Garden State Griot