The Great Zucchini War

We figured the Utah Mormons started it, because they were gardening crowd.Now, to most of Saints in College Village Ward, my family and I Mormons, since we had come university town from BYU so Jeff could get his PhD. As a convert Oklahoma married many-generations Mormon who grew up Boston, as working mother only one child, did feel closer being than being, say, Martian—but not whole lot.Anyway, weren't “Utah” enough anticipate vegetable war. The first salvo was fired on hot July Sunday, when parked church parking lot left car unlocked windows down. skimpy trees around our genuine Salt Lake–issue stage-one chapel didn't provide much shade, yet, vinyl seats would otherwise be branding irons came out meetings; nevertheless, it mistake. noticed next us its rolled up, locked tight, roll-down window shades side California Raisins fold-out dashboard protector visible through windshield. But newer ours, think it. Especially visual aids I'd brought Primary kids sing “Oh, What Do You Summertime?”—including lemonade glass, poster-board clouds, stick-and-string fishing pole, black fabric sky with Reynolds Wrap stars, an American flag for “parade”—were breaking their ancient tote bag, Marisa about pull skirt right off if pick her up. It Sunday.Three hours later, discovered what really do summertime. grow zucchini. Well, doesn't, but apparently everyone else ward did, packed grocery sacks green, sausage-like squash that three hardly fit inside. There few tomatoes there, too, which gave vaguely yuletide appearance underdone-casserole smell. no mood, after long-winded high council speaker sacrament meeting two Primary, further “We'll unload dinner.”I trying hold dig seat under sack zucchinious bounty she specimen looked like two-foot baseball bat scream, scrambling down me running crawl Jeff, just coming building deeply engaged discussion something important (like football team) he found himself treated nightmare playground equipment. He smiled absent-mindedly, shifted weight accommodate screaming daughter, finished sentence before turning Brother Selkirk ask wrong. Then saw car.“What the—did you volunteer some Relief Society thing?” glanced briefly at other members, fastening own into minivans or herding older cars. baseball-bat zucchini lay invitingly within reach. no. “I someone thought might getting veggies,” replied, lame smile, balance bag top pile without squishing any tomatoes.“What are supposed all this stuff? is stuff, anyway?”“Zucchini—you know, squash. Maybe should have signed homemaking class ways fix it.”“Maybe can made useful, paper cloth materials. Like soda-pop liters recycled become carpet.”I moved offensive monster sight began again buckle car. “After finish I'll go PhD—on win Nobel Prize inventing composite survive reentry outer space.”We laughed bags home. After all, people sharing surplus got little hand. That's first.As happened, need learn how cook beyond elementary method slicing small, tender ones (the few, proud, among gifts) steaming them little. My wedding-gift Betty Crocker cookbook far. Beyond that, Ward tutor. On Monday, Olsens bread, along recipe yet another stuff. They doorstep, rang bell, ran, recognized Tuesday, visiting teacher said knew busy work over casserole dinner, chief ingredient zucchini.When bed night, still awake. waited till settled asked, “What going do?”He stroked hair. “Is there wanted do, sweetheart?”“No—I mean, now. zucchini?”If see disappointment dark, then guess I'm who's seen sighed onto back, reach keep stroking hair, less enthusiasm before. “Oh. Why don't throw away?” asked.“I can't that. wasting food. Children starving in—somewhere. And say pack send them.”“So wait gets moldy away.”“And great excuse clean refrigerator. idea good time. Could rub back neck little?”“Mm-hmm.” neck. “You worry too much.”“That feels good. feeling more relaxed.”“Yeah?”“Mmmmmm.”Somehow subject lost moment. moment, many you'd hang to, fleeting.Our cup ran Thursday Mutual, young women by plate cookies—which even know possible. thanked and, immediately closing front door, flung cookies, against living room wall burst tears. Marisa, playing floor across room, also cry, course, both reduced astonished whimper cookies stuck. To wall, mean.Jeff bounding stairs, sweat-suited basketball cradled arms. “I'm play—” His voice trailed tearful wife daughter staring stuck rest scattered carpet. skidded couch.“Those of—?” began.“Don't it!” said, unleashing fresh onslaught joined in.“I it,” said. “If house caught fire been burglarized, we'd do. How defend slow death donation?”Marisa snuffling. “Maybe stay home?” asked. appreciated gesture intended such. shook head. nothing felt victim. “Don't tell anyone,” sort hugged way door. faint, greasy, irregular cookie-shaped marks scrub off. Jeff,” evening Olsens’ bread recipe, “The filler. doesn't taste anything, shred mix recipe.”He withdrew computer printout examining intimately went bed. “Can dissertation?”“That make heavier, that's need. This loaf has entire oil find repulsive.”“I expensive.”Cooking indeed expensive, restrained impulses may toward bread. Saturday morning store, (they called “Italian squash”) selling 33 cents pound, hard attract attention shoppers. “What, Mommy?” asked.“You green giving free? They're here.”She it.Perhaps week full zucchini, lulled thinking Sunday day Sabbath. Fools were, meetings, approached him standing, defeated, driver's-side exactly kind fools were. Once again, final resting place pituitary problems. These young, succulent, side-dish zucchini; these large, dense, seed-laden added color. home-grown tomatoes, squash?I decided time action. Sharon Baumgartner shepherding four boys station wagon stopped her. “Apparently somebody thinks quite bit. use some?”“No, thanks,” knowing smile shepherding.The Marshalls teenager home, teenagers eat lot. Polly Marshall wasn't buying. “We large garden, dear. Lots already.” From smiled, wondered hadn't contributed charity dismissed paranoia, Wald turned (I told Sister delighted produce), knew. once every kitchen counter. experiment non-food uses.That in-service cornered LaVella Curry, “lifer” Mormon. “Tell zucchini,” desperation voice.“Are designated recipient year?” asked.“It seem so.”She sighed. “Zucchini grows anywhere. Profusely. nuclear attack, cockroaches will left. Sometimes year, plant huge leaves hide until size pods Invasion Body Snatchers. it's everything we've taught waste You're graduate students you're prime targets. new summer—have cars during church, though risk second-degree burns sunny days?”I nodded.“See, learned last year victims generosity guilt. Nasty combination.”On Monday morning, food bank No thanks, plenty. That carved jack-o’-lantern–like creations, put candles inside, displayed balcony bedroom home evening. delighted.I prepared ratatouille chipmunk lived porch. days, quit coming.Jeff volunteered take school offering famously aggressive Avery State Attack Squirrels. voracious creatures shy anyone sitting bench shading venerable institution, especially bench-sitter lunch. So plastic chunks backpack. hopes high; those squirrels rumored try sleeping students. foul mood work. zucchini's fault.“There was, risking rabies give furry variety diet,” “Meanwhile, friends stealing peanut butter sandwich granola bar bench. afternoon.” trained steal lunch myself.That's serious, maybe reckless.Our neighbor, Art Student Who Had Wild Parties (as always referred him), surprised opened apartment door Woman Next Door (me) standing laden largest specimens received. “Hi!” brightly. “Do sculpt?”He crazy; used extraordinary. want stuff down?” asked crucial mistake allowing enter floor. One wobbled bumped stereo speaker. winced.“I able create these, artist,” idiot smiling best “Golden Questions” smile.He me. “Well—I try. Did stuff?”“It gift.”His eyes met mine understanding. away.”“Oh, no, think—well, useful.”“There's casserole.”I managed weak laugh. look closely contents dumpster week, Parties, named Rick famous someday, art.By Friday eternally tired smell crowding slammed sped Kmart, where bought craft supplies cardboard windshield protector, 99 cents. choices giant Budweiser beer label bikini-clad, buxom sunbather, chose sacrifice Word Wisdom law chastity. result, couple years recite “This beer. brand—,” etc., complete “exclusive beechwood aging,” amazement distress parents. long-term implications; lock Sunday. practiced rolling squish edges old towels shade seats. boxes Christmas ornaments baby clothes crammed closet stairs find, open time, sister-in-law's gift ago: dehydrator.I beat game. spent drying tiptoed Marisa; apron rather knife, woman possessed. tried: shouldn't spend this. leverage chorister threaten having ‘There Sunshine Soul Today’ stops?”There sunshine soul. Thanksgiving guilt-and-generosity fest let invented retaliatory kindness. By ready. wouldn't park thing windshield, blocks away. carried laundry basket, emptied purpose wiped case contamination dirty clothes.After meeting, hurried catch counselor, Abbott. Since exchanged words, ever, better introduce myself, unveiled gift. perfectly theme month,” feigned innocence presented fruits labors: sister ward, (and slightly brittle) refrigerator magnet slice dried painted popular legend, “Bloom Where Are Planted.”Sister Abbott momentarily speechless recovered nice things gone cute magnets were—way things, really. conscience twinged, repressed hope blissfully zucchini-free refrigerator.I've thinking, though—maybe landlord spring small space porch garden. If resident vegetables, garden stand chance. anything delicate required skill attention. Certainly not. myself.