Can you get mad at someone while you’re eating a peach?
I’m talking about a peach picked ripe from a tree within the last couple days. A peach that is, well, peach-colored — that unique blend of pink and orange and yellow. And when you bite into the flesh that is the perfect meld of soft and firm — and the flavor is sweet and tart — and the sticky juice runs down your chin — and your tastebuds are screaming, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” you know, at this moment: You. Are. Happy.
At this moment, you could smile at your worst enemy, shake hands with your political opposite and even bear to look at the most fanatic, talk-radio host in the face. Not listen to, understand, but look at him eyeball to eyeball, say, for as long as the peach lasts.
A perfect peach — a peach that has never known cold storage, cross-country journeys or supermarket bins — could solve a bushel basket of problems.
What if, at a stoplight, a glaring driver is looking at you threateningly — and you toss him a peach through the windows?
What if a wannabe gang member went to a house, pulled a gun, demanded dope — and he was handed a peach and told, “Eat it before you shoot,”? If he ate the peach, would he shoot? Instead of another daily drug deal gone bad, it could be a peach of a deal. No lives lost. Nobody goes to jail.
What if a major league baseball team manager stalked out to scream at the umpire and the umpire handed him a peach? Or the pitching coach walked out to relieve the pitcher and, instead of the baseball, the pitcher handed him a peach?
In 1987, I was acting as a recorder for a group of American postmasters visiting post offices in China. At one meeting, the postmasters were sitting around a long conference table with their Chinese counterparts. Everything had to be translated, from English to Chinese and from Chinese to English. As the lengthy translations went on, the participants waited a little uneasily, not sure the other side was getting it.
Suddenly, one of the Chinese dignitaries got up, walked over to a bowl of oranges and started throwing them at the Americans. After a startled moment, everyone started laughing, everyone relaxed and the meeting proceeded with a whole new atmosphere of openness. That would work with peaches in any kind of difficult meeting.
The place to buy a perfect peach is at an orchard or a roadside stand or a farmer’s market. In Oklahoma, the season for fresh peaches isn’t very long. Many years, there aren’t any at all because there was a late freeze, drouth or an invasion of insects. But it’s worth making a drive to find them. Texas, Arkansas too, has roadside stands right beside the orchards.
When you find them, eat them three times a day. With cereal. In ice cream, cobblers, shortcakes, with blueberries.
The writer, Iris Murdoch, said: “One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats.” That’s what a ripe peach is — a small treat that makes you happy.
And remember. It’s impossible to be mad while you eat a peach.
Mary McClure lives in Lawton and writes a weekly column for The Lawton Constitution.
