I was part of a watermelon stealing gang
Now part of this story may be corrected by certain family members.....my cousin Sally has a better, more vivid memory of this than I do. She reminded me of this just the other day.
Our Aunt Kay and Uncle Jim had a cottage on Dewey Lake, near the city of Dowagiac, in Michigan. I should say cottages, because there were two of them.
These were summer cabins. Kay and Jim stayed in one, my family stayed in the other.
The cottages could have been rented out, but my memory tells me Jim very seldom let non family members stay, and sometimes did not even let family members use the cottage.
The cabins were simple. Front porch sleeping room, living room, bedroom, kitchen, back porch and bathroom. Sort of. There was a sink and a toilet. No tub, no shower. We were expected to cross the road and take a bath in the lake....using Ivory soap because it floated.
I remember a sign Uncle Jim had put in the bathroom: If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down. That always cracked me up.
The lake was a highpoint of my life from early childhood to my teen years. I think the last time I stayed in the cottages I was about 15. Frequently cousins or friends joined us. That was usually fun, but sometimes we would fight. Cousin Jodi buried my tin soldiers somewhere near the hill behind the cottages and I never did find them. Cousin Sally would fight me over my collection of comic books, actually wanting to read them. My brothers would torment me with scary stories about snakes, spiders and monsters that lived under the porch. These were the best times of my youth.
A little past our cabin was a road that lead to Cable Lake. We sometimes would wander up that way. We had to pass the home of the lady I was convinced was a witch, even though I never really knew her.
One day as we were trooping up to the lake, Carl, Dennis, Rob, Sally, me, we passed the witch's garden and noticed the watermelons were about ripe. I was eight or nine at the time. We took one. We did not want to take it all the way to Cable Lake, so I went back to the cottage with the melon.
Now Sally may have been with me, we are younger than the rest. And maybe Sally wasn't with me, I honestly don't remember.
I do remember getting caught with the stolen watermelon. Sally says my mother looked at it, I imagine with disappointment about our sinful shortcomings, and told me I had to take it back. But she did it in the way many parents do, making me feel like I was making the choice to take it back, therefore earning redemption and avoiding hell.
"Well, if you think that stolen watermelon is going to taste so good and so sweet, then go ahead and eat it." seems to have been directed my way.
So I did what any self respecting boy would do. I ate the watermelon. The whole thing. And it was one of the sweetest, juiciest watermelons I have ever tasted.
Of course that registered disappointment with my mother, anger with the gang because I ate the whole thing, embarrassment at being so weak and a major stomach ache.
According to Sally, after my mother found my bloated body behind the cottage, slightly damp from eating a watermelon by hand, we were made to go to the witch's house and apologize.
I really don't remember going, but I do remember going. That probably doesn't make sense.
But I have a distant memory of slowly walking to the door, knocking and confessing to the crime.
I also have a dim memory of a very sweet, understanding woman who didn't cast a spell on me, or turn us into toads. A woman who seemed to understand that watermelons act like a magnet for young kids with a taste for something sweet.
A forbidden fruit, for sure.
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