My first watermelon Pickle

Am I old enough or wise enough to be giving homespun advice about writing or poetry? When it comes to age, I may be too old. As I was strolling through the woods here in Aloha, Oregon thinking about my history with poetry, I misremembered one of my first books as Advice on a Watermelon Pickle, a selection of poems by Rod McKuen. By the end of the walk, I had the first word correct.

Of course, I googled it when I got home. Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle…and Other Modern Verse, the anthology was published in 1966, when I was nine. The title poem was John Tobias’ “Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle Received from a Friend Called Felicity.”

Far above and away

From the softening effects

Of civilization. . . . It certainly was another era. Remember candy cigarettes? Smoking your pencil as if it were one? Grandma canning cucumbers? The first watermelon pickle I ever tasted was during an overnight stay in the home of strangers. We were traveling with a church group to perform a musical, its name forgotten too. My best friend and I snuck out of the bedroom to raid their refrigerator. Such a texture. I vowed never to eat another one.

…in a jar put up by Felicity, The summer which maybe never was Has been captured and preserved. And when we unscrew the lid And slice off a piece And let it linger on our tongue: Unicorns become possible again.

Who wouldn’t want a friend named Felicity? I’m old enough now to break vows and try something a second time. Am I old enough or wise enough to be giving homespun advice about writing or poetry?