I had a deep sense of family\u00a0pride\u00a0when I learned of Uncle Saul’s\u00a0cherry pit spitting exploits.\u00a0 I learned of this not from my Aunt Meggie; but from my Mother. The story was related to me one miserable rainy afternoon in July. The type of summer afternoon that could deflate the spirit of a boy who preferred to remain outside playing all day. After all, isn’t that what summer vacation is for? <\/p>\n
Sullen, I made my way to our small breakfast room nook with a rather stout bowl of plump dark cherries. I ate my way thru the darkest and firmest fruit, accumulating a small pile of pits around the bowl in the process.\u00a0 I can’t recall what prompted me to try and spit a pit into the crystal chandelier over the dinning room table in the next room… but I did. My first effort fell short, barely reaching my Father’s chair at the head of the table. My second shot made it on to the table; but still lacked both length and height to hit the chandelier.<\/p>\n
My first reaction was to inspect the quality of my pits\u00a0(and by connection to the choice of cherries).\u00a0I could see that this would be no different than selecting a perfect rock for skipping on Long Island Sound (something that I had a certain skill for). I looked to the immediate supply on hand from my discards, and arranged the pits by what I judged to be their heft<\/em>. When I had ten pits selected, I then put them back in my mouth to strip away any excess bits of cherry… I figured that any clinging cherry meat<\/em> would create wind resistance and limit my effective range.<\/p>\n I examined my ammo<\/em>, now clean as a whistle<\/em>. I pulled four away… not good enough. I picked thru the bowl, trying to judge the quality of the pit by the quality of the cherry itself. It took me ten cherries to get four replacement pits that were suitable. I was ready.<\/p>\n I moved my chair closer to the breakfast room table… got up on my knees, placed my hands on the table for support,\u00a0rocked my body back, then\u00a0propelled my upper body\u00a0forward and spit the pit into the dinning room. The length was better. The pit made it on to the table and dribbled past the chandelier line and almost to my Mother’s chair on the far side. The second pit nearly duplicated the path of the first.\u00a0 If my pits\u00a0had been\u00a0exploding shells, I clearly would have taken out the chandelier.<\/p>\n I had a trajectory problem. I gained new respect for the artillery officers in the Civil War. I needed to raise my head and add to my forward thrust. By the sixth pit I began to hit the front end of the chandelier with ease. When I exhausted my initial supply of ten pits, I began to clean off the remaining available projectiles.<\/p>\n Having solved the range and trajectory problems, I switched to other challenges… pure distance. <\/em>Or to other flights of fantasy. I am in\u00a0a battleship in\u00a0the English Channel, miles from the Normandy Coast peppering the German defensive positions in back of Omaha Beach…<\/em> which included taking aim at our Bedlington Terriers ambling thru the dinning room to pee on the drapes… a Panzer formation is moving close to a landing zone…<\/em><\/p>\n It was during the latter stages of the artillery barrage when my Mother came into the dinning room. \u201cWhat’s going on here!!!\u201d Thank God I had cleaned off the pits in my ammunition prep so that the table cloth didn’t sustain any stain damage. But Mom was not a happy camper<\/em>, as we say. I gathered up the spent shells, <\/em>without complaint; but with plenty of embarrassment.<\/p>\n I was spared any punishment… luckily Mom’s anger melted away with the\u00a0improbable sight of two dozen plus cherry pits scattered on and near the dinning room table, looking like an unworldly version of connect the dots.<\/em> Bless the stars that she had a sense of humor… and<\/em> a story to tell.<\/p>\n \u201cDid I ever tell you the story…\u201d<\/p>\n I have learned that this is a pointless question to answer. Yes, or no… the result is the same. A story will <\/em>be told.\u00a0 A response of yes <\/em>simply means that the version of the story will in some way be modified… perhaps by only changing the tense.<\/p>\n \u201cYour Uncle Saul returned home from Europe.\u00a0 His attempt to be\u00a0the next\u00a0Benny Goodman ran on the rocks. Saul, however,\u00a0met your Aunt Meggie in Paris.\u00a0 They weren’t married yet.\u00a0 Meggie was in Paris is study dance.\u00a0 From the start they became a couple<\/em>… I would get letters from Meggie: ‘this man is terrific’.\u00a0 But when they got back to the States they\u00a0had to get\u00a0on solid footing<\/em> before our Father would agree to any marriage.\u00a0 This led to Saul going to Law School.”\u00a0<\/p>\n I am not sure how this was going to pertain to me creating a mess in the dinning room.<\/p>\n \u201cHow he got into Columbia’s Law School, and with a scholarship<\/em>, I can’t tell you. But he did. A bright guy… your Uncle.”<\/p>\n I hoped that this wasn’t going to be a long tale.<\/p>\n “Saul didn’t have much money.\u00a0 He was always scrambling for a dime.\u00a0 Back then it seemed that every conceivable business ran contests of some type to create interest and publicity.\u00a0 Win the contest and win $25 or something.\u00a0 Back then $25 was a lot of money.\u00a0 Saul?\u00a0 He entered everything.\u00a0 Oyster shucking.\u00a0 How long could you keep a corncob pipe lit.\u00a0 Point to Point swims.\u00a0 Number of push ups in an hour.\u00a0 And a cherry pit spitting contest.”<\/p>\n Bingo.<\/p>\n “Saul traveled\u00a0to this country farm somewhere in New Jersey\u00a0where they organized a yearly cherry pit spitting contest.\u00a0 The winner got $20, a fancy certificate\u00a0and his, or her, picture in the newspaper.\u00a0 Each contestant was given 3 cherries and 60 seconds to fire off a shot having first put a cherry in your mouth and\u00a0cleaned the cherry of its fruit.\u00a0 There was a rating\u00a0system that allowed for anyone, young or old,\u00a0to compete.\u00a0 If you were 4 feet tall, like you, you could stand right up to the first line… but for every inch above 4 feet you would have to move 2 inches from the line.\u00a0 Saul, nearly 6 feet had to stand 4 feet in back of the line.\u00a0 He ‘fouled’ on his first spit… meaning he crossed his starting mark.\u00a0 The second cherry he didn’t get off in time because he was too busy arguing with the officials about the foul on his first try.\u00a0 <\/p>\n But on his last spit, he took an extra two steps behind his starting mark, and he hauled back, took a monstrous intake of air and by accident swallowed the pit!\u00a0 He began to gag…\u00a0his eyes bulged out… he face turned lobster red… had a massive coughing fit ’til it brought up that pit into his mouth and\u00a0just before he would have suffered a second time foul,\u00a0<\/em>he\u00a0spit that pit an amazing 61 feet and 7 inches, with the roll.\u00a0 The crowd cheered.\u00a0 It was a clear record… and while he took the prize money they didn’t give him the record because they say that his spit had been wind aided<\/em>.”<\/p>\n “WOW!” That’s all I could say… wow<\/em>.\u00a0 I took a look at my starting mark in the breakfast room and my range into the dinning room.\u00a0 Thirty feet maybe to Mom’s chair at the far end of the dinning room table.\u00a0 Maybe.<\/em>\u00a0 Sixty-one feet would have been from the breakfast room thru the dinning room, thru the hall, to the living room… and maybe <\/em>the den!<\/p>\n “I know what you’re thinking… I just made this up.\u00a0 Well, I thought it was made up, too!\u00a0 Then one day Meggie and I got to talking and she said that she was going thru some old papers… and there under some old pictures was the certificate Saul won at that contest… complete with his prize winning distance: 61′ 7″!\u00a0 Saul really did it.”<\/p>\n I was speechless.<\/p>\n “And before you get any bright ideas about trying to surpass Uncle Saul’s record, pit spitting indoors is now forbidden, <\/em>even though I can see that skill in this sport <\/em>seems to run in our family.”<\/p>\n I was proud to be related to a record setter.<\/em>\u00a0 Yeah, proud.\u00a0 I wondered if Uncle Saul was good at skipping rocks on Long Island Sound?\u00a0 I bet that ran in our family, too!<\/p>\n “Practice is restricted to the backyard in back of the raspberry patch.\u00a0 Who knows?\u00a0 Maybe we’ll grow a cherry tree or two.”<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n “One more thing.\u00a0 No spitting pits at people or the Bedlingtons.”<\/p>\n “How ’bout German gun emplacements?”<\/p>\n “Only if they’re outside.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I had a deep sense of family\u00a0pride\u00a0when I learned of Uncle Saul’s\u00a0cherry pit spitting exploits.\u00a0 I learned of this not from my Aunt Meggie; but from my Mother. The story was related to me one miserable rainy afternoon in July. … Continue reading