Inspiration for this blog (and its title) came while working at the produce section of my Publix. I was contemplating that of all the varieties of tomatoes that we carry, the UglyRipe tomatoes are (in my infallible opinion) the most delicious. Slice one open, and you'll immediately see what I mean. Try one on a sandwich, and you'll be in heaven.
We rarely ever sell them.
The more popular tomatoes are:
Tomatoes on the Vine
Beefsteak Tomatoes
and even Plum Tomatoes.
Don't get me started on Cherry Tomatoes.
And sitting neglected by all but the connoisseurs are the UglyRipes.
To be honest with you, I don't know much about tomatoes. But I do know that had I not allowed myself to do some exploring, I would still be buying the more attractive symmetrical tomatoes, missing out on the glory of the UglyRipes.
Don't look too deeply into the metaphor. I'm certainly not claiming that I'm ugly, ripe, or particularly delicious. I'm simply forwarding the old warning about judging books by their covers. And I don't mind when books are chosen based on beautiful covers -- a beautiful cover doesn't make a book bad any more than it makes it good. What I mourn is the assumption that is made about books with odd covers -- i.e. that they are less safe than their crisply-bound counterparts -- and the compulsion to act on the need for safety and familiarity despite our realization of the folly of always doing so. This archaic instinct is still leaned on so heavily by all of us.
A tomato's purpose is to be eaten (ignore the reason for a moment), and for better or worse they require eaters to fulfill that purpose. When an UglyRipe is passed over in favor of a more symmetrical, smooth-skinned tomato, it is left without the means to realize its purpose. Furthermore, the elation that the eater would be entitled to had he or she chosen the UglyRipe is now locked away in the realm of Could've-Been. There is a spiritual ascent there that has been rejected in favor of the safe and familiar.
Growing up with a conspicuous bone deformity (just how conspicuous I'll never know, as I trust neither my eyes nor what people tell me) has given me gifts of living that I cannot imagine I would've been privy to otherwise. There's some magic that I've found in this world, and I want to share it.
Above all, I hope to extend a hand to those among us who walk through life with noticeable physical surface differences, navigating the social world and their own minds with a rather incomplete guidebook for using their unusual vehicle. The details of what constitutes a noticeable physical difference is not important to me. I would like to give of whatever I have.
"No, I don't think so. My injury has led me to opportunities and experiences and friendships I would never have had before. And it has taught me about myself. In some ways, it's the best thing that ever happened to me."
- Mark Zupan, quadriplegic wheelchair rugby player, when asked if he would turn back the clock on his fateful accident if he could
Might be an old warning (judging a book by it's cover), but it is definitely one worth hearing and thinking about now and then. Thanks!
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