2000 Giant Pumpkin Contest-revisited

Author's note: Check out the link at the bottom of the page and see the true inspiration for this story.



More than 500 people have made the journey. There’s a buzz in the arena. “Orange-ya glad you did?” Asks a man in a bright orange tuxedo to another man who is holding his baby daughter on his shoulders. He is referring to witnessing the color and pageantry, the spectacle otherwise known as The Topsfield Fair’s giant pumpkin contest.
I watch people ogle the 1,013lb monstrosity that has won first place on this crisp September afternoon. Thirty five hundred dollars richer, Charles Brown of Goffstown brings the title of giant pumpkin champion back to New Hampshire after many years of frustration and second place finishes. “They’ll be dancing in the streets of Manchester, Concord and Keene.” I overhear the man in the orange tuxedo say to a news reporter.
I think of what I would do with thirty five hundred dollars. Definitely buy an eighty-four Camaro, and what I’d say to the news reporter, “I’m a first time grower, I’m that good.” My pumpkin weighs in at a hefty 67.6lbs. Are there any prizes for last place? Unfortunately, the picture will be on their website, big pumpkins dot com, along with my name and the town I’m from. I don’t understand, why was my pumpkin such a failure? I even purchased the book, “How to Grow World Class Giant Pumpkins”, or otherwise known as, the bible.
In the book, it talks about getting the right seeds. Getting the correct variety of Atlantic Giant Pumpkin seed is paramount. Preferably, you should buy ones from Howard Dill, a heavy hitter in pumpkin nation. The legend goes that this ten time winner sells his seeds out of the back of his station wagon after the contest. You have to catch him at the right time; he’s mystical that way, almost wizard-like. The story goes that one fella, who won in 97’, bought seeds from Howard after the contest back in 96‘. As he was walking away, he turned back to thank him, Howard and his station wagon had disappeared. Turns out Howard Dill died in 92’. I had no idea. I bought mine at the local garden center.
The book also says finding the proper place to grow your pumpkin is important. A twenty five by twenty five foot space is ideal. A space where there is no other vegetation or growth happening, in order to give it all to the pumpkin. Sounds like something Satan would say. The best place that I know is at my home. There is a twenty five by twenty five foot space right next to the trailer my mother and I live in. I got in a heated argument with my mom one day concerning the future of the clothesline, “Five months! Can’t you do without it for just five months?!” The clothesline won out. My dad’s garden is the next alternative. Not the ultimate location because of the distance from my home and because of the tomatoes, zucchini, and various other vegetables he’s got growing in there, but it’ll do. My request was met with a hearty, cynical, assholian laugh. “What are you going to do with a giant pumpkin?” he asks.
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll carve it out and live in it!” My response gets me a spot in the garden.
“Have you tested the soil?” I ask. That’s another point in the book. To give your pride and joy the most potential to grow to its fullest, certain ground nutrients must be at specific percentages.
“The soil is fine.”
“Are you sure, the pH level should be between six point one and six point nine? Any thing over that could be toxic. “
“Do you even know what you’re talking about? “ I find a spot next to the tomato plants. Carefully, I plant.
Manure, manure, manure was the most popular answer in chapter seven when asked of prized growers what they use to fertilize their Atlantic giant pumpkins. Bernie, the fourteen year old kid that won best looking pumpkin, told me he also used guano. “Is that like gamma radiated cow manure?” I ask.
“No, it’s just bat shit.” We had a good laugh at the one.
Luck. Luck is another aspect of giant pumpkin growing. I’ve never had any of this so called luck. So, when I saw there was a chapter dedicated to it, I went out and bought a rabbit’s foot. I rubbed bald heads, didn’t step on any cracks for five months, threw coins in the fountain at Chin Chin’s Chinese Restaurant, prayed to St. Rolo the patron saint of luck and danced around a bon-fire naked.
In the last chapter of the book, the author tells me to have fun, to think positive, to go out and buy the pick up truck you’ll need to haul your giant load, wishful thinking on his part. If he’s this confident I definitely did something wrong, especially when I grew such a midget of a pumpkin. A dwarf amongst giants, ridiculed, but I love him anyway. I named my pumpkin Seth. In a strange way, I learned what it feels like to give birth, to plant the seed, care for it, love it unconditionally, even feel the pain of child birth. I hurt my back lifting Seth into the back seat of my Camry.
“It’s been an exciting day, we’ve seen a new world record, it doesn’t get any better than this. “ The man in the orange tuxedo says as he wraps up his interview with the local television station. Me, I’ve had an exciting day as well, learned a lot about pumpkins, manure and luck. I’m even going to go out and buy a pick-up truck for next year’s contest. All I have to do is convince my mom to lend me the money.

Check out: http://www.bigpumpkins.com/ViewArticle.asp?id=48 Scroll down to the bottom of the page and check out #101