At precisely the same time I was putting a slice of a paw paw — Kansas’ answer to the mango — in my mouth at the annual Paw Paw festival (basically a potluck with all things paw paw), Forest was walking backwards while talking to a friend at the end of a long high school band competition. “Great paw paw,” I told my friend just about when Forest, less than a mile away, tripped over some instruments. I’ve come to find out that the goodness of the paw paw doesn’t last as long as a hairline fracture (of course, Forest bears the brunt of this knowledge). Meanwhile, we live lives balanced between sweetness and danger, punctuated by paw paw cheese cake and trips to the emergency room.
Read all about the mighty paw paw in our local paper.