My Tomato

My Tomato
Music & Lyrics by Karen J. Kamenestky (2011)

My tomato doesn’t have a first name, so I decided to call him Tom.
I saw him sitting in the grocery store, I said “Tom, Where are you from?”
He said, “Its January, did you think I grew outside in New Jersey?”
“I was doing just fine in California, ‘till they ripped me from the vine too early.”
I said: “Tom, I think we have a problem. ‘cause…”

I want my tomatoes to come from New Jersey.
I want them to ripen on the vine.
I want to get them at the farm stand, the day they bring the harvest in,
I don’t want to eat any other kind.
And Tom Said,

“I spent the last five days in the back of a truck, with a flat of strawberries and a case of Romaine,
All so you could pretend that the seasons don’t exist, which by the way, I think is insane.”
He said, “It’s January, why don’t you eat a rutabaga or a red potato?
I was bred to store and ship, so I’m mealy, pale and tasteless, I’m no Ramapo!”
I said, “Tom, I have to agree because…”

I want my tomatoes to come from New Jersey.
I want them to ripen on the vine.
I want to get them at the farm stand, the day they bring the harvest in,
I don’t want to eat any other kind.
And Tom Said,

“You knew this day was coming and you could have been prepared, it’s not that hard to do.
There are many ways to preserve a tomato, canning, freezing and drying just to name a few.
And then in January, you can pull a jar down off the shelf and break the seal,
Take some roasted Romas out of the freezer, have sun dried tomatoes at every meal.”
I said, “Tom, I have to agree because…”

I want my tomatoes to come from New Jersey.
I want them to ripen on the vine.
I want to get them at the farm stand, the day they bring the harvest in,
I don’t want to eat any other kind.
Any other kind,
Any other kind.

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