August 25, 2009
from the comments
Vegetable men still drive the streets of El Paso. When I was visiting my mother recently, I answered the door to find a lovely older Mexican man with long, curly hair holding three beautiful tomatoes in one hand and a Presidio cantaloupe in the other. My mother has bought produce from him for years.
When I was a child, we were visited frequently by a peddlar named Jake. I was a sickly child, and for long stretches the only food I could keep down was watermelon. This was in the 1960s, when foods were not available year-round as they are now. Jake would make trips to far South Texas to find melons just for me. He called me — as did my mother — Cindita.
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