Dom...
Have you been to Arthur Avenue lately? Big, big changes. But, that discussion is for another day. Years ago, we used to shop there for all the good Italian things that turn people into blimps. The bread never made it to the table....those were the days.
Anyway, I remember seeing fig trees growing in the area, and in particular, some beautiful fig trees growing in a sunken garden, that was a story below street level. I would stand with my nose pressed up against the iron fence, and watch this old man haul buckets of water for his plants...basil, tomatoes, peppers, and of course the figs. A real, old-timer. You know the type, dress slacks, undershirt, suspenders, and a guinea stinker in his mouth. I don't smell them De Nobili cigars too much anymore.
Maybe, soon, I will return to look for some fig trees, but really, I need to get some Italian bread that doesn't look, and taste, like a hot-dog roll, and buy a nice crumbly, piece of cheese that bites back, and doesn't taste like a block of wax. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll see my younger, healthier, parents buying some peaches, or, ripe cherries, from their favorite vendor. I'll walk through the market and remember what it once was, take a walk around the old neighborhood, sip a cup of black-coffee, and then, I'll remember.... what I was.
Frank