Cherry Hill Tomato Run Part 2

Part 2 of 3-part series:

Garden State Misconceptions

When I mentioned to a friend that I was going on a tomato run to New Jersey, her response was, “I didn’t know they grew tomatoes in New Jersey!” And so, it is with New Jersey and I am a guilty party with the same misconception. Over the years I have driven through the fringes of the state on my way to a more desirable New England where family roots stemmed from. Or one time I was in New York City on business and stayed in Fort Lee. Fort Lee’s forgettable image is elevated somewhat because the subway line runs through Hoboken, a place that was the early stomping grounds of Frank Sinatra, which immediately lends it some notoriety, maybe.

My friend with the tomatoes revelation did not recall that New Jersey is called “The Garden State.” I knew of this tidbit of minutiae because I had seen it on license tags. Yet my image of N.J. was driven downward by my Fort Lee experience. Hollywood cinema’s mafia characterizations by the likes of actors Al Pacino and Marlon Brando discount as well the distant populace’s image of this coastal state. Throw in a little Bruce Springsteen and the Atlantic City “Jersey Shore” television show and enough said. I believe many people look at this state in a much similar fashion. 

Me, Randy & 2017 Beauty

For me, no more. In August 2017, I learned of Randy’s annual tomato mecca and was on the receiving end of his gifting. I tasted and saw that the Lord, of course, is good to the folks in this state. At 75, my former roommate’s nearly two-decade long mission trip back to his childhood roots was likely entering its final days. This year he would ask for a traveling partner for the first time. The trip would permanently alter my view of this marvelous misperceived area.


It all begins with and in Cherry Hill. This suburban town with a fairytale name is much like the town we live in. It has expressways, maddening traffic, a shopping mall and cheap motels. One thing it has that Marietta and Smyrna, Georgia do not, is a full bloom family farm less than five miles from the center of town. Our first morning in, Randy and I visited this magical piece of real estate and my image impression of New Jersey was changed forever!

Farm View

Randy had briefed me in glowing terms about Tom Jarvis, the present patriarch of the family owned business that is Springdale Farms. We had hoped to see Tom when we arrived mid-morning, but he was in the field attending to the crops which included plump red tomatoes, the holy grail of our arduous thirteen hour drive the day before. I wandered wide eyed marveling at this oasis in the urban sprawl. To my surprise this Springdale farming family had built a modern market for surrounding families to enjoy the fruit of a still rich countryside. I stepped into the Springdale Farm Market plant yard and our Creator tapped me on the shoulder:

A tap on my shoulder

I would not meet Tom Jarvis for two more days as the tomatoes would not be picked for another twenty-four hours. I learned there is a celestial methodology to the harvesting process. Randy’s trip every year fall’s around the July full moon. To this layman in farming science, it is all Greek, but miraculous indeed! With measured calculation the tomatoes are picked closely after full moon taking into consideration rainfall amounts. The tomatoes are picked blush and boxed ready for our loading the next morning. This way by the time they arrive at their dinner table destination they will be fully ripe, red, plump and juicy.

Blush

It was with that extra day that my tour guide had planned a reunion with some Ocean City High School Classmates. That ninety-minute drive to the New Jersey coast solidified the sea change in my perspective of this state out east. I found myself longing to be riding my Harley. In some spots it felt like parts of South Georgia, especially closer to the coast. To this one-time beach boy, all salt air smells the same. I had some lingering false impressions to get rid of. These were born of Atlantic City images, casinos and such. As we were coming over the big 9th Street bridge into Ocean City, I could see to the north a cluster of skyscrapers. It looked like a large metropolitan city skyline, out of place to rest of the horizon. It was Atlantic City and cannot hold a candle to the quaint character of Ocean City.

OCHS Class of '60

So many of my misconceptions about the state of New Jersey were dispelled on this trip which I’ve come to refer to as the “Cherry Hill Tomato Run.” I was on the receiving end of some great stories from Randy’s younger days, many of which will remain between the two of us. I am still learning anew about the Garden State. Did you know that one cannot buy alcohol in Ocean City nor BYOB in dining establishments? Did you know that it was originally founded by Methodist Ministers in 1879 as a Christian resort? New Jersey as a place to retire, who would have thought it? Apparently in Ocean City, it is not a bad idea!

"The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
(1 Samuel 16:7)

Amen Brothers & Sisters of Class of ‘60


Bradford Bosworth
August 2018