By Thomas Thorspecken
My Friend Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascon and I were seated on a wooden bench at the entry to this covered stall area at Webster’s Market. This vendor was selling corn on the cob and watermelon. Stella said that his thick southern accent was for show, in that vendors are showmen as well as salesmen. On watermelon was cut open with a machete and free samples were offered to any passer by.
Parked in the parking lot was a Trump and Vance American flag painted car.
Stella had t use the bank machine to get some cash outside the market office. The person getting cash before use stood staring at the screen forever. It turned out the machine had not given him his cash, Had to go into the office to report that the machine had failed him. Stella decided to try the machine herself despite the risk. The machine refused to work. In the market office she was guaranteed a refund at her bank. There was no other bank machine on property but there was one at a gas station down the street. We walked with Boo Boo down the street to find the machine. There was a sign on the gas station door that said no dogs were allowed inside but service dogs. Boo Boo panicked when Stella went into the gas station. I kept reassuring him that she would return. Each person that filed inside smiled. They came back out with there lottery tickets secured.
Each watermelon was $7. I decided I had to have one. I picked up the biggest one I could find and it was as heavy as a cinder block. Stella’s little granny cart strained under the weight. We also picked up so many fruits and vegetables that the bags overflowed from the top of the cart. I ha to hold the handles of the top bag to keep it from tipping over and spilling out.
I am not a great shopper. Some of the vendors spoke Spanish. Stella spoke fluently to them. My 60 or so days of Duolingo only allowed me to pick up a few words of the conversations. When I picked up some tamarind from one vendor I started taking to Stella and walked away. He shouted out, “You haven’t paid me!” I am such a space cadet sometimes.
Meanwhile in Gaza, starving Palestinians are being shot to death as they rush towards food relief truck in the hope of getting some food.
On July 4th, I finally cut the watermelon in half. I put the two halves on a table with spoons. Stella and I raced one another in eating the watermelon. Hers looked like a strange smiling beast with a snaggle tooth. She took a photo of her creation and used it as her profile picture on Facebook.
