It’s October, and orange is everywhere.
One of my new favorite vocabulary words is ubiquitous… aka, all over the place. And yes, they are. Pumpkins, that is.
I know I often start these rants with “I remember when”… well, I do!
I remember when getting a pumpkin, which would be transformed into a Halloween-night, one-and-done jack-o’-lantern, was sort of like getting a Christmas tree.
In Pueblo, that meant driving out onto St. Charles Mesa, stopping at a local farm stand, and picking one out.
On the night before Halloween, our family would gather, hollow out the pumpkin, and carve pretty much your traditional triangle eyes, perhaps a round nose, and a smile that would challenge any dentist.
Pumpkins came in small, medium, and large. We would usually go for the large, as a matter of family pride. There was no such thing as white pumpkins, or pumpkins with warts, or pumpkins weighing 200 pounds. There was a standard look, and Halloween did not go on for weeks.
Now Halloween is often described as America’s second most popular holiday. My grandkids in California start prepping in July!
Our very good friends in Belgium once shared with us that Halloween and pumpkins were an American tradition. Well, that is no longer true. Orange has invaded Europe, and not just Holland.
And yes, pumpkins are ubiquitous!!!
In 1997, I moved to South Broadway Christian Church, near the center of Denver. I convinced the church that we could create a “Pumpkin Patch,” and we had an unlimited supply of some of the best pumpkins in the state.
Our wonderful friends at DiSanti Farms in Pueblo kept us supplied with an endless stream of donated premium pumpkins, which raised the profit margin considerably!
The proceeds went to the Tennyson Center for Children.
We cleaned up!
At that time, there was practically no competition. Within a couple of years, every church with a corner was running the same gig. The market was saturated. Apparently, we had started something!
One of my favorite memories is of a sixty-something-year-old Elder named Kaye, dressed in a pumpkin suit, standing on the corner of Ellsworth and Lincoln, hawking pumpkins.
Now THAT was church evangelism!
Finally, I want to go back to grade school and how my rather unusual name, “Pumphrey,” opened me up to the low-grade cruelty of childhood name-calling.
“Mark, Mark, Pumpkin Pumphrey!”
After all these years, I still love pumpkins.
And I suppose, in a way, I’ve been one all my life!
Onward and Upward,
Mark (Pumpkin) Pumphrey 🎃
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