The Secret of Tomatoes

“Grandpa?  What makes Hooper tomatoes so much better than all the other tomatoes?” I would often ask this of my Grandfather Don Read as he would drop off what seemed like endless buckets of Tomatoes from his Garden each year.  

The Garden (yes in capital letters) looked like a farm to me even though it was nowhere near that size.  And it produced tomatoes that even to this day I remember fondly as the best tasting I have ever partaken of.  

He would often respond with explanations, like the fact that they were watered once a week, or that in Hooper there was a lot against growing them and so the ones that made it was the sweetest, or sometimes he would just say that the soil was a high alkaline soil.  Some of these explanations have probably less to do with science and more to do with legend.  

“There must be something in the water” is a comment I have heard from time to time standing in line at one of the many stands that pop up around Hooper Utah during the harvesting season.  

After doing several google searches, (you know because if Google doesn’t have the answer, then it is not out there), there doesn’t seem to be only one answer to why I Tomatoes from Hooper taste the best.  

But I am not discounting quite a bit of nostalgia either.

Here is what I learned about growing Tomatoes:  

It’s not, by comparison to others, the easiest fruit to develop and cultivate.  In fact, based on one description there seems to be a good deal of getting all the right pieces and environments working, and there seems to be quite a narrow window of opportunity to get it right.  

I read a few pages that seemed to contradict each other, and they were written by individuals who claimed to be very successful at growing Tomatoes. 

I wonder if anyone knows all the variables and can give any definitive statement.  

Grandpas "farm" produced many vegetables.  He would bring us zucchini, apples, and I also loved the corn.  

I would take several tomatoes and apples along my paper route with me each day.  I would sneak and cook corn and sit down the hill eating it with the rest of the family wondering why there was one pan of hot water on the stove but no one seemed to be cooking dinner.  

But the best thing that came out of my Grandpa’s farm was my beautiful mother, Gaye Johnson.  

All of the legends about tomatoes apply to my mother for she too was raised in alkaline soil where there was apparently “something in the water.”  

My earliest memories surround my Mother. 

My mom was my first friend.  My Mom was my first teacher.  My Mom was my first love. In those early years that’s who Moms are to their kids they are usefully their first anything.

The person she is has so much to do with where she came from.  

So many of the lessons taught to me by my mother I can see stretching back to her parents and beyond.  She taught us to do right because it was right.  She taught us to do hard things.  She taught us to love family and to cherish their company.  She taught us music. She taught us compassion.  She taught us about endurance and faith.

There is a children’s song that is popular in my faith, some of the lyrics are as follows:  

“I see my mother kneeling with our family each day.I hear the words she whispers as she bows her head to pray.       

Her plea to the Father quiets all my fears,And I am thankful love is spoken here.”
(Love is Spoken Here, Janice Kapp Perry)

I remember hearing her pray for our family at our nightly prayers.  But even more powerfully, I remember a handful of times accidentally walking in on her as she emptied her soul to her father in heaven.  I have found few earthly visions of what it means to have faith that rival seeing my Mother pray.   

She has not had a constantly comfortable life.  She has lost a child.  She stood by and supported my Father as he lost his legs.  She has lost grandchildren.  Supported her children through these times and with challenges of their own.  

And with all of that going on she went back to school later in life, worked many hours, went to school again for her Master’s degree, completed a well written personal history that she continues to add to.  

One of the most challenging years was 2004.  She could see her father’s health deteriorating and knew it was nearing the time to relocate him to a new residence with additional care. 

Her two sisters (also figurative Hooper Tomatoes) and my mother all discussed the plans and eventually, the decision was made with my Grandfather's consent.  

Around the same time, my older brother's son who was born prematurely was digressing and was looming closer to when he would not remain in this life.  

During all of this activity, she decided to leave a job she loved, but that put a lot of strain on her time and energy.  

Her sisters pulled their weight for my grandpa, but they also lived farther away.  My mom did a lot of the day to day tasks that needed to be done.  And she seemed very enthusiastic about it.  

She did what she could for my brother and his family, and as the days came that they would bring my nephew home to live as long as he could on hospice, she also spent time helping with the needed work there as well.  

During this time she still planned fun family events like a sister and sister-in-law retreat to Park City, family dinners, and a day to take her Grandkids on fun activities.  

But with so much happening none of us noticed that my Dad's health was also declining.  And several months later my father passed away.  

This “Hooper Tomato”, it seemed, might break and fall off the vine.  

Except, wait, she had more resiliency than that.  She is of good stock. Although she may have temporarily shown signs of withering, she began again.  As she always does.  Because where she is from, there is “something in the water.”  

She continues to support her family and her new husband.  She continues to pray.  She has gone through and will continue to go through (and over) obstacles.  

She continues to set one of the most influential examples of faith and endurance to her family.  She is still my first friend.  My first teacher.  And my first love. 

I think the answer to why Hooper tomatoes are better than all other tomatoes is that they come from Hooper.  I no longer need to search for why.  

How can I put my finger on the one thing that makes her who she is other than to say, she came from Hooper.