When I was growing up in Gray's Ferry, we didn't have cable until the late 1970's, did not have I Phones, internet access, Facebook, email or instant messaging. However, we did have the neighborhood as a large place to play...baseball and football at Lanier or Vare, street hockey at Anthony Wayne's schoolyard, or just playing in some manner on the streets with other neighborhood kids that wanted something to do. I remember one example of throwing rocks at a wall as they were demolishing the old movie house at 28th and Reed, across from Bill's Bar. It wasn't exactly an organized sport, but throwing rocks at a demolition site was in some manner playful. That came to an end, when one of my great-grandmother's friends on Sears street called her, identified me as throwing rocks and well, you could imagine the rest. In Gray's Ferry, growing up the whole neighborhood helped even if you didn't like it.
As urban children, living in the inner city (we didn't even know we were inner city until we grew up), a any thing that got us outdoors and playing was worth trying. Frequently, while playing around Anthony Wayne school, we discovered a fig tree that grew across the street from the dry cleaners and the John Chambers Church. In our concrete jungle playground, who knew anything about fig trees. However in the spring, that fig tree gave fruit, the figs started out hard, like the "crazy balls," we used to roof. The small hard figs were great ammunition when playing around growing up in Gray's Ferry. We never ate them, we threw them. How that poor fig tree survived in the patch of dirt surrounded by concrete still amazes me. My last visit to South Philly, the tree dormant for the winter is still there.
I have always been amazed by fig trees. It is the first fruit mentioned in Genesis by name, it's leaves covered Adam & Eve, and for centuries they provided great filler for fig Newtons.
I've always wanted to grow things, I used to grow beans when my maternal grandmother made soup,
planted peach pits and apple seeds, took cuttings from other people's house plants and always had a collection of unusual house plants bothering my wife all over the house.
Fig trees are my favorite. In our climate, they die in the winter. So I potted one up and it sits next to the most important place in the house, the television. It bothers my wife. Let it die she says, but its mere presence is a victory for me knowing it irritates her so much. It is January and the fig tree is sprouting new growth. I am thrilled that soon with the warmth of my family room, this tree is surviving and is a passive act of personal disobedience to order imposed by others and is GROWING.
As you can only imagine, I am waiting for the first hard figs to grow. Not meant for throwing, but not culinary delight in the spring and summer. No longer a projectile and an object of youthful play, but now a horticultural accomplishment that reminds me of my youth and the ignorance I had for this delightful and delicious fruit that has escaped the winds of winter and the displeasure of my family and friends as it continues to grow towards a warmer day and escapes winter and the constant monitoring of FOX News Network.
As urban children, living in the inner city (we didn't even know we were inner city until we grew up), a any thing that got us outdoors and playing was worth trying. Frequently, while playing around Anthony Wayne school, we discovered a fig tree that grew across the street from the dry cleaners and the John Chambers Church. In our concrete jungle playground, who knew anything about fig trees. However in the spring, that fig tree gave fruit, the figs started out hard, like the "crazy balls," we used to roof. The small hard figs were great ammunition when playing around growing up in Gray's Ferry. We never ate them, we threw them. How that poor fig tree survived in the patch of dirt surrounded by concrete still amazes me. My last visit to South Philly, the tree dormant for the winter is still there.
I have always been amazed by fig trees. It is the first fruit mentioned in Genesis by name, it's leaves covered Adam & Eve, and for centuries they provided great filler for fig Newtons.
I've always wanted to grow things, I used to grow beans when my maternal grandmother made soup,
planted peach pits and apple seeds, took cuttings from other people's house plants and always had a collection of unusual house plants bothering my wife all over the house.
Fig trees are my favorite. In our climate, they die in the winter. So I potted one up and it sits next to the most important place in the house, the television. It bothers my wife. Let it die she says, but its mere presence is a victory for me knowing it irritates her so much. It is January and the fig tree is sprouting new growth. I am thrilled that soon with the warmth of my family room, this tree is surviving and is a passive act of personal disobedience to order imposed by others and is GROWING.
As you can only imagine, I am waiting for the first hard figs to grow. Not meant for throwing, but not culinary delight in the spring and summer. No longer a projectile and an object of youthful play, but now a horticultural accomplishment that reminds me of my youth and the ignorance I had for this delightful and delicious fruit that has escaped the winds of winter and the displeasure of my family and friends as it continues to grow towards a warmer day and escapes winter and the constant monitoring of FOX News Network.
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