While growing up, my parents wanted to avoid getting us kids all hyped up by telling us we were going someplace fun, ahead of time.  Therefore, whenever we got in the car we didn’t know if we were going to Disneyworld or to the dentist. The long term psychological ramifications aside, my current family has also instituted this program.

First Graders at the Pumpkin Patch

So it was with a mixture of joy and relief that I was dropped off at SJE by my wife, Katie, to go on the pumpkin patch trip with the first, second and third graders instead of another trip to the DuVol Funeral Home ((202) 333-6680 and ask for Kevin) for the memorial service of a favorite uncle whose death no one told me about.

With my brown bag lunch and a name tag containing my emergency contact information I boarded the bus. After riding a school bus for twelve years growing up, I made sure I secured the front row seat so as not to have to deal with the underworld culture that exists in the back rows of any school bus.  As the bus pulled away I waved to Katie and tried to hold back the tears that were welling up in my eyes brought on by the memories of my parents putting me on a school bus when I was ten and realizing when I returned they had packed up everything in the house and moved with no forwarding information.

Third Graders at the Pumpkin Patch Photo taken by Mrs. Calabro - see more click here

The weather was glorious and the day filled with fun.  I got to see and touch farmyard animals in their stalls and out in the pasture.  The staff then walked us all through how these lovable animals make it to our dinner table.  Let me just say that a slaughterhouse can be educational, but rarely uplifting.  After some trauma intervention by the SJE teachers we were off on the hayride.  When we finally arrived at the actual patch, I quickly shoved and outmaneuvered my weaker competitors to find the perfect pumpkin. Deep orange, oval face, not too small, but also not too heavy.  I got back on the hay wagon and headed back to the parking lot.  I almost made it to the bus when Carla Haywood spotted me and my prize pumpkin. After shoving me up against the bus I knew I was done for and handed over my pumpkin.

The day was not a complete loss.  I ended up finding a partially decaying squash in a ditch.  I imagined the tiny Christmas tree in a Charlie Brown Christmas, and thought that that squash needed a home.  So I put it in my backpack and with visions of a decorated Halloween Squash on my front porch I leaned my head on Mike Burgess’s shoulder and fell fast asleep.