Ancestral Rhubarb

[rcharlton]

My ancestors originally settled in a town called Newmarket which is in Ontario north of Toronto.

The ancestral homestead was a farm. The farm had been sold and had not been in the family for almost a century.

My great Aunt Beryl was the the only relative who continued to live in Newmarket. Every summer, even into her nineties, Aunt Beryl would call me up and get me to drive her over to the farm to pick rhubarb. I guess this was our ancestral rhubarb patch.

I just assumed that the current owners of the farm had expressly invited my Aunt over to pick the ancestral rhubarb. I also assumed that my Aunt had inquired as to the best time to drop by to minimize inconvenience to the owners.

However, every time we descended upon the farm to pick the rhubarb, it always seemed like the most inopportune moment for the owners - in the middle of dinner or just as they were heading out. And they never seemed happy to see us.

One time we interrupted some big celebration. The festivities came to an abrupt halt as a 91 year crusty old bird and her pimply faced nephew cut a swathe through the crowd as we headed to the rhubarb patch at the back of the farm. They stared at us as if we were aliens.

And Aunt Beryl had no qualms about picking all the best rhubarb stalks for herself and tossing the bad ones aside - all while the owners looked on.

When my Aunt passed away, the owners of the farm attended the funeral. I greeted them and thanked them for inviting Aunt Beryl to pick rhubarb every year. I told them how much it meant to her. I was shocked when they advised: "Oh - we never invited her - she just showed up every year".

So apparently my Aunt and I had been trespassing all those years. I guess my Aunt figured that since her ancestors had planted the rhubarb she had a right in perpetuity to pick it.

I'm surprised that they never called the police on us - or at least pest control. "Officer - there's a ninety year old woman attacking our rhubarb."

 

[olly]

aahh bless her cotton socks.
i love rhubarb..........pie or crumble with custard......yum!

 

[brooksea]

If only people were so gracious to allow such to happen now! That was very sweet and humorous, too!

 

[Bhappy]

Love your story! I believe it's all in the name. I too have an Aunt Beryl who doesn't lay claim to ancestral rhubarb, yet always seems to get what she wants. She will be 85 this year and I dare say she's in better shape than me. I'll be up in your zip code next month to see her and the rest of my amazing family in Canada.
Mary

 

[rcharlton]

Oh yes. Aunt Beryl was a character.

She refused to get married until her and her beau could pay for their house in full. So they courted for 30 years and finally got married at the age of 50.

In her final years, she felt that her age gave her an unlimited license to free sample at the grocery store. It was really quite embarrassing. She would stuff her face full of cherries, grapes, apples - right in front of employees. Every time, she'd give me a wink. Once I watched in horror as she stuck her arm up passed her elbow into a barrel of peanuts.

Probably the most revolting display was when she tried a rice cake. "Ugh! It tastes like sawdust!" she exclaimed spitting bits of food everywhere. She then proceeded to remove her dentures to lick and wipe off the bits of stuck rice cake - all in front of a disgusted audience of shoppers. I'd be chasing after her as she cut a path of destruction through the store.

She would also get me to weigh pre-packaged food - to make sure she was getting her money's worth. "How much does that 5lb bag of potatoes weigh? 4 7/8 lbs? Put it back! Next!"

 

[LizT]

sounds like my kind of woman!

 

[arkallen]

Has the Ancestral Rhubarb grown undistrubed since your colourful aunt's demise, or has another whacky descendant inherited the mantle? Wonderful story!

 

[rcharlton]

Actually - the ancestral rhubarb has been untouched by any relation for 20 years.

Should be ripe for pickin'.

However, I doubt they'll show me the same understanding as they did Beryl.

We'll need to organize a crack commando team. So I'll need to enlist PALS living in Southern Ontario.

We'll start by dressing up Al as a boy scout going door to door selling Apples. He'll be our decoy. Maybe Al could arrange to fall out of his power chair - that would occupy the owners and give us the time we need.

Next we'll need a PALS who still has full use of their speech. They'll be responsible for the bird call signals.

Then we'll need a PALS who can still use their hands to harvest the rhubarb.

Finally, I'll be responsible for clean up. I'll trample the power chair tire tracks with my feet so that the police can't take plasters. I'll burn my shoes later.

We'll also need someone at home base who knows how to make good pie.

We can sell the movie rights and donate the money to ALS Guardian Angels.

We can call ourselves ARRGH (ancestral rhubarb recovery group hellcats).

 

[arkallen]

ARRGH!

I think we are a match for Aunt Beryl Richard, and we can get away with it! It's very uncool these days to criticise the dissabled, and I think we could get away with just about anything.

We could also use the help of a PALS who's speech is utterly unintelligable; they can be our spokesperson in case the media or police become involved.

Im offering my services for the birdcalls. My whistling is still excellent.