Fri, Nov 27 2009
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Published May 20, 2009 03:52 pm - It’s funny how family traditions can become ingrained, even when you don't expect them to . The less you know, the better in gardening ROBERT LEBZELTER column for May 24, 2009 Star Beacon It’s funny how family traditions can become ingrained, even when you don't expect them to . As kids, we all rebel against our parents. We will do things differently. We vow we will garner our own interests, our own beliefs independent of our parents. Which naturally brings me to my topic: Gardening. Of course you already knew that. OK, maybe not. But when I grew up on Lakeview Avenue in Conneaut, we always had a garden next to the garage . For a typical neighborhood, we had a good-sized yard, which is important with a family of four hellions, er, boys. Looking back through the murky decades, I don't really think of gardening as a major influence on my life. We weren't forced into hours of backbreaking work tilling cotton, although I do remember us raising some in my fifth-grade class and then transplanting it in the spring to our summer garden. (I was horrified when my mother suggested we invited my teacher over to see how it was doing.) But on occasion, my mother pulled me outside after deciding I was getting too much summer television and ordered to pull weeds. I hated pulling weeds. I don’t remember consciously vowing when I grew up and had my own family, that I would never plant a garden. But maybe I did subconsciously. Yet after earning our degrees, both wife Louise and I landed jobs in Conneaut. The first place we rented we were told we could have a garden. Without knowing what we were doing, we had the most abundant vegetable garden we will probably ever have. We hauled water from a pond (until neighbors took pity and said we could use their outdoor faucet.) Huge tomatoes, broccoli (complete with bugs), potatoes, beans, corn, we had it all. And I wasn't yet a vegetarian. Best off, with a wife who is a teacher, she had summers to pull weeds (I was just too busy) and she learned the art of canning. Eventually we started looking for our first home to buy. Homes were relatively cheap, although interest rates were high. These were the waning days of the Carter administration. A couple of prerequisites: No handyman specials. I'm no handyman. Also, we wanted at least somewhat of a yard, partially for a family, the other for a garden. The home we settled on had room for a garden, although it was often in the shade, behind our garage. We had so-so luck. 
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