The cucumbers are huge and I accidentally pull a melon from the neighbouring row, the vines of the plants running wild across the beds. I walk over the the truck where Eric's loading tomatoes , the truck radio blaring some sunny pop tune to ask him if he wants a bite of the first melon of the year. I peel the skin with a knife, slice off a chunk and take a bite and slice off another chunk for Eric. "Still a little unripe yet but pretty darn good" he says as we crunch down and the sweet perfume of the melon fills my mouth.
The cadence of Eric's speech belies the fact that he is a nice and simple prairie boy and he says "It's moments like these that make life worth living, eh?" smiling wide. And I feel it in my heart, the heat of the day, the sweet cool of the melon, the hard work compressed in my lower back and hamstrings and this brief moment of respite standing there looking at each other enjoying some of the fruit of our labour. I feel it all and I smile back and then I feel the knife in my hand and say "Haaiii-yaa!!" and feint a stabbing motion at his stomache and say "How about now?" He laughs but I've killed the moment.
A lot of people won't let a good moment be a good moment. David Foster Wallace says and I agree, that my generation has a problem accepting cheesy but genuine moments, a product of being constantly marketed to and emotionally manipulated by media. It feels vulnerable and naive to feel good about something true and my gut reaction is often self-defense in the form of a caustic joke. Sometimes you need to learn, sometimes you need to un-learn.
