Read by Michael Flamel

Shep Ogden, the fellow who started The Cook’s Garden seed company, happened to drop by last Summer, the day after the neighbor’s cows broke through the fence and chomped all my two-foot corn plants down to three-inch ones. I was, at the time, definitely not a happy gardener. Overnight, my entire corn plot had gone from a lush little forest of promise to a stubby green clear-cut. All I have is an old .22, but I was seriously considering taking some bovine target practice.

Shep didn’t seem concerned. “Don’t worry, Pat, those shoots’ll come back. A lot of plants keep their growing points protected inside. See, those cows didn’t eat the growing points.”
Darned if he wasn’t right. Within a week, those stubs sprouted new leaves. The plants went on to bear a full crop of corn, every bit as sweet and golden as ever.
As we head towards the holiday season, I’m reminded of those corn plants. They showed me something I hope I can take to heart.

Does your mother, every holiday, remind you of something she thinks you’re still doing wrong? “Dear, it’s okay to get married and settle down, you know.” “Honey, it’s not that your children aren’t precious, but don’t you think they could learn some manners?” “Son, this isn’t the 60s. Beards went out a long time ago.”

(I don’t want to criticize my own mother in this last regard. But when I did finally shave my beard to surprise her, all she said was, “Pat, that tie you’re wearing is way too short.”)
Does a brother or sister never fail to bring up the time you did that really stupid thing, the one that every time they remind you of it gets you just as steamed up as ever? Friends, I’m not going to bring my older brother and sister into this, no sir, not me . . . but I wouldn’t complain if they forgot that I used to hang my pants—and underpants—on the handlebars whenever I rode my tricycle.

Are there certain family sore spots, politics, say, that over the holiday dinner table are always brought up but never resolved? (“Of course, we can’t blame Know-It-All here for anything. He voted for Homer Simpson!”)

You get the point, don’t you, the growing point? Let’s all take a tip from corn and inwardly resolve not to let such biting remarks bother us. This holiday, when Dad or Sis chomp down on us at the dinner table, let’s you and I let it pass. Sure, their comments will still hurt, but don’t let them get our personal growing points. Let’s keep those safe, inside.
We can do it. Really. Plants do. ❖