spud spirit
The other day Mt. Vernon decided it was high time their tulip-blighted burg put its mark on the international map. A lot of towns around here are content to sink quietly into the mudflats while celebrating their past glory days, but Mt. Vernon, looking to the future, decided to seize the moment. Think Big, the Downtown Bizness Association declared, and so, given that ‘Spirit of the Spud’ was this year’s theme and mantra, they aimed their sights rootward and prepared a full frontal shock and awe assault on the Guiness World Record for …. wait for it …. largest potato au gratin.
Well sir, they blew away the old record, the one held for just over a year by Netherlanders also eager for tuberous fame. They nearly doubled the tonnage, now tipping the Guiness scale at 16,000 pounds, no sneezeable au gratin, that.
Now I come from the great potato state of Maine and my granddaddy was a potato farmer his entire life. I eat the buggers fried, baked, boiled, mashed, chipped and grautined. Spuds are no doubt a huge percentage of my genetic make-up. And sure, I look forward to Tulip Town’s probable upcoming art inspiration: giant potatoes the size of glacial boulders on every street corner, sponsored by local biznesses and inflicted on all those artists weary of competing for the Tulip Fest Poster year after year after year. Let the Spud Spirit soar, I say. Let it shine through! Let it heal the sick and inspire the young. Sing the praises of the tulip colored tubers, reds and yellows and Finn purple.
A curmudgeon might have hoped for, oh, a slightly grander vision. A cynic might fault a society fed on the pablum of American Idol instead of nutritious values. A wag might wonder aloud if the volunteers and the donations might have served, well, needier, loftier purposes. But I am not one of those. No, I salute Spud City, au gratin capital of the civilized world!! And tomorrow I’ll be calling my broker to buy up as many shares of Frito Lay as I can lay hands on. When the chips are down, I say, buy chips.
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