On Tuesday, UCSD’s first farmer’s market of the year occurred, leaving many first years saddened, horrified, and betrayed over the lack of farmers for sale.
Many of these students had heard about the so-called “farmer’s” market in advance, and had done their research. Freshman Joe McHiggins commented, “Yeah, I researched for months. What a waste of time. I had it all set out — I wanted one about 30 to 35 years old, with an average yield of at about 80 pounds of crop per year. Someone who knows their way around a tractor, you know. I had plans. Big plans.”
The disappointment of these misinformed freshmen after finding out that the farmer’s market sold mainly fruit and not farmers quickly turned into something more dangerous. The exact cause for the extreme reaction remains unknown, but some sources suggest it was a combination of the heat, the stress of adjusting to college life, and the deep seated sting of “filthy lies.”
Hordes of students approached the farmers’ stalls, demanding a price for the agriculture workers and pausing only to applaud the farmers on their adherence to selling strictly seasonal fruits and vegetables. Brief pleasant words were exchanged before the descent into untameable chaos continued.
Harry Peterson, a 65-year-old farmer of organic Peruvian radishes, was extremely offended by these propositions. He reported that one student attempted to buy him for 46 dollars.
“I said no, what’s some paper to a radish farmer who was symbolically expatriated years ago?” said Peterson. “Give me some radish seeds from the Chilean mountains, and then we’ll talk. Yeah, I only accept payment for radishes (or anything really) in the form of other radishes. Haven’t had a paying customer since ‘Nam. Surprising amount of radishes out there.
“This,” Peterson stated to the students, reportedly holding up his most exclusive Peruvian radish, “is me. And it COULD be yours.”
An anonymous student commented that here Peterson must be appealing to the idea that humanity is too complex a notion to simplify down to a dollar amount, that parts of a person can often be worth more than the whole, and that the unforgiving universe inescapably takes from all beings. When asked for his response, Peterson replied: “I am a radish.”
After that the crowd calmed down, reportedly “sated by his inspirational words.”
“Yeah, I was pretty mad,” admitted one student, “but when he said that, I was like, maybe the real farmer is the radishes we met along the way.”
In a show of goodwill, students were permitted to buy a radish with whatever currency with which they had been planning to purchase a farmer. There was, however, one exception — a student who Peterson deemed “unworthy” of the vegetable, who was forced to stand and watch his friends buy radishes from afar.
The farmer’s market continued with no further interruptions, and both the freshmen and the farmers walked away with a newfound respect for the other, according to McHiggins. “I mean, I guess it’s okay now? I’m still confused. Do you know anywhere that does sell farmers? I may have spoken too soon and maybe owe someone something and I really just need a warm body to uh… help me out with some stuff.”
Written by: Frances Debrunner