24th* Annual Spit: Triumph & Controversy

Niko_1

The 24th (At Least) Annual Holly Street 4th of July Watermelon-Seed Spitting Contest yielded both history and a controversy that may, in time, draw the attention of the National Watermelon Promotion Board.

The historic aspect of today’s strenuously contested battle was simple: Nico Martinucci, whom this correspondent remembers from the time before he existed in his current incarnation, became the youngest HS4JWSSC professional division winner in the competition’s voluminous and tidily kept annals. I’m not actually sure how old Nico is now — but I’m guessing 15 (his birthday’s in January). His winning hawk was 35 feet, 1 inch and change. He and his dad, Piero (HS4JWSSC pro division champ, 1998) are the first father-son winners in contest history. Neighborhood representatives are canvassing local genetics labs for interest in studying the hereditary dimension of seed-spitting prowess.

The controversy that lingers over the multigenerational Martinucci family triumph revolves around another kind of DNA mystery: Some participants in today’s festival of expectoration say they believe the continued genetic manipulation of Citrullus lanatus to produce seedless melons is making robust, massive, spittable seeds a thing of the past.

“I predict the distances will only get lower,” said frequent Holly Street visitor Greg, who finished second to young Martinucci. “It’s the seedless watermelons — the seeds you do see are just getting smaller and smaller. The seeds used to be like peach pits.” Ensuing ruminations centered on the possibility of launching a Holly Street heirloom watermelon-breeding project to produce a more satisfyingly seedy melon. Possible objections included climate and the unwanted police attention that the use of grow-lights and other artificial gardening techniques might attract.

(Pictured above: Nico Martinucci (in cap), this year’s Holly Street watermelon-seed spitting champion, with past winners from lower Holly Street (from left: Steve Kimbrough, Piero Martinucci, John Creger.)

Morning-After Disassembly Line

Loho

Christmas morning: The usual post-luminaria routine is to wake up, do the presents, then go out on the street to pick everything up: gather the luminaria remove the candles, dump the sand, and fold up the bags so they can be reused next year. But there was a heavy frost last night and the bags were all pretty much soaked this morning, so Piero decided we’d just recycle them and use new ones in 2005. He’s the boss.

Pickup

Our neighbor Kay Schwartz, above, was the first one out this morning, and she pretty much picked up all the bags from the upper block of Holly Street. Then we hauled everything down to the Martinuccis to pull it all apart. Most of the usual suspects were there (below). It probably takes a total of two hours to set the whole thing up on our street — more if you have to get the 600-plus bags ready first — and about the same to take it all down again.

Disassembly

The Aftermath

Aftermath

11:17 p.m.: The lights are still lit on Holly Street. But the people who came out to walk through the neighborhood, and we had dozens who stopped by our little driveway table to have hot mulled cider, had all gone home. We stopped by the Martinuccis’ place, where all the set up stuff was piled on their front lawn, to hang out a little bit before we went home for our traditional middle-of-the-night gift-wrapping extravaganza.

Lit Up

Holly

8 p.m.: Between about 6:45 and 8, all the bags and candles were distributed and lit along the length of Holly Street. This kind of forgettable shot is from in front of our place, looking south to Cedar Street. Dozens of people have showed up to walk the streets this year. All the familiar faces from around the neighborhood, and lots of people we haven’t met before. Even the beat cops are coming by to check out what’s going on.

Blogging the Luminaria

Earlyluminaria

6:54 p.m. PST: The first luminaria in the neighborhood are lit. These are actually a block away from us, on Buena Street, looking east from California. All of these were in place by dark. And not only here. For nearly a half mile along California to the south and on many adjoining blocks, the luminaria were all set out and ready to go by nightfall, too. Amazing to think this has all spread from our little celebration on Holly Street, which started 13 years ago tonight. Ironically, folks on our street are just out now putting out the bags. More later.

Declaration Day

“When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected it with another and to assume among the powers of the Earth the separate and equal station which the laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect for the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the Separation.”

Kate and I and a neighbor, Jill Martinucci, read (or maybe performed is a better word) a slightly abridged version of the Declaration to the assembled multitudes at our street’s annual Fourth of July picnic today. The main event at the gathering is a watermelon-seed-spitting contest (a new neighborhood record, 43 feet-plus, was set today), so I was afraid reading this, even with our little interjections, would be seen as a little preachy. But several people came up to us later to day they hadn’t read the Declaration in a while and it was good to hear the words again.