The Story of Me and Tomatoes

This all started by thinking about the concept of disgust. We all feel disgust, usually triggered by some specific sense – sight, smell, touch, taste, sound. Sometimes it’s triggered by a thought too. The tendency is natural, but at the same time it might be worthwhile to not base all of our decisions upon the feeling of disgust. 

For example, someone might set down a plate of rotten food in front of me. I will not eat it. Why, because I am disgusted by the sight of it? No. Because I can see the food has rotted, it smells bad, and I know eating this would make me sick. The decision to not eat the food shouldn’t be based upon the feeling that it disgusts me, but the fact that things would not end well for me if I did eat it.

Here’s the thing though – I would feel the same sort of disgust if someone placed a dish in front of me that looked and smelled bad, and yet was perfectly fine to eat. Should I then refuse to eat the food, just because it disgusts me? No, certainly not. Especially if I see others are okay with eating it, or if I know this is a dish frequently consumed by people, there is no harm in at least giving it a try. I may not like it afterwards, but that is no reason to not give it at least a chance.

The most personal example for me, I think, is about me and tomatoes. I don't like tomatoes. I never did. I don't know why. As a child, I simply refused to go near them: I wouldn't touch them in the store, and when they showed up in my food I would pick them out and throw them out at the end of my meal. My mom got mad at me and yelled at me at every meal, and finally gave up, resigned to the fact that I would never touch the darned things.

This continued for quite a while, way into my teens. The first signs of change came about when I went to college. Even there, eating in the mess, I continued with my habit of picking out tomatoes. The other girls found it rather quirky, though it didn't bother anyone.

But then one day I found myself thinking, why do I hate this vegetable (fruit) so much? It's not like it's doing me any harm, people eat it for a reason. Also, there is a distinct flavour that it does add to the food, which is quite noticeable, even if I don't like the standalone taste of it. I could not bring up a single logical reason why I would avoid this vegetable. The only reason was, for whatever reason, I did not like the vegetable.

I realized too, that it wasn't the vegetable itself that bothered me. It was just seeing it in my food. My mom ran this experiment a few times, where she would puree the tomatoes rather than dice them. I ate the food without complaints, and did not even think about the tomatoes. The only difference was I was unable to see them. So the problem was with me, and not at all with the vegetable.

As I realized this, I started to eat the tomatoes rather than pick them out. I took on the tactic of simply ignoring the fact that they were there at all, and got very good at it.

I still don't like tomatoes. And I won't eat a fresh tomato if you just hand it to me. But I can accept that my prejudice really has no grounds, and I shouldn't let it get in the way of what's beneficial to me.

Ailanthus Altissima

My beloved's neighbour has a large tree in his backyard - of course he has several, but there is a particular one that I did not pay much attention to until recently. the same variety grows in another neighbour's yard too - a specimen about six feet tall. I did not notice this tree until a few months ago, when my beloved and I discovered a specimen growing out of one of the basement window-wells, through a crack barely an inch wide.

He didn't want the plant there, for fear it would cause a rupture, so he tore it out and threw it away and thought no more of it. A month later we found the plant had shot up bright back, as though it had never left, about a foot and half tall. He cut it out and threw it out again. The root system remained however, and sure enough, a month later, it was back.

This time, at my behest, he pulled it out as gently as he could and replanted it in another corner of the garden. We also relocated another sapling that I found growing in a rather clumsy place under the deck.

Three months later, both saplings are sturdy and thriving. It has rained several times in the past three months, which I'm sure has done nothing but encourage the young trees. What's more, we found several more saplings sprouting up all over the front and back yards last week, including one very sturdy specimen already three feet tall.

It almost seemed as though this tree was propagating via the root system. It is a common asexual method of reproduction in various plant species. A lot of weeds usually propagate this way, hence leading to my beloved dubbing the plant, "the weed tree". I chose to bestow that more colourful title of "the slutty tree". My beloved suggested going online to find the real name. In the spirit of research, I did.

Ailanthus altissima, it is called. The history and survival of this species is rather interesting. So that I may not unnecessarily repeat what has already been written about this one, you may read all about it here on Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ailanthus_altissima All I'll say is, there's something pretty remarkable about a tree that could survive the Hiroshima atomic bombing, especially at such close range as 300 metres. It's often said cockroaches will the be the only survivors in the event of a nuclear World War III - but Ailanthus will likely survive too, and revegetate the planet.

There's some comfort in the thought, I think, that organic life will not completely be destroyed. But there's coldness too, given that I and my species won't be amongst the survivors.

For now, I'll just watch my slutty trees grow. In about three years, if they survive the winter snow, we'll have some decent shade in the backyard.