Just once I would love to relive a Fig Orgy with Albert and that gang of neighborhood kids…perhaps this time updated with a fine cheese and something also fine, dry and white. Those were the best figs I have ever tasted…and probably ever will. Just once I would love to hear the laughter of those neighborhood kids–enraptured in a Fig Orgy–whose future was full, but unknown, and now, for those who remain, is known to the end.

Of course, those days are long gone. And I suppose it does little good to mourn them. I can only bring them back in my mind, and on precious special occasions recollect them with the very few friends that are left from that period in my life. But I do remember them well, although through the softening filter of passing years. Somehow, in my memory, the sun is not quite so hot, the air much less humid, and even the sand spurs are now just bygone annoyances, rather than the banes of our existence as they were at the time.

I am saddened, however, by the fact that my grandchildren will never know childhoods like that. How can I possibly convey to them the precious joys of playing for “unstructured” hours with neighborhood kids, real friends, making homemade “weapons” and boats built out of scrap pieces of 2 x 4 to float in the puddles, and hunting and gathering the indigenous fruits and berries of our North Shore neighborhood?

Perhaps it’s a good thing they’ll never be forced to choose between their Game Boy and standing on a fig tree limb of a summer afternoon scarfing down juicy figs. If they knew enough about the joys of “gathered” figs, and mulberries, and persimmons, and plums, I would like to think they would choose the fruit – and the quest — and the Friends — over the Game Boy. The saddest part for me, is that I am not so sure they would.

[Author’s Note: After graduating from Andrew Jackson High School, Al went into the Navy and I was to follow after UF. Our paths did not reconnect until much later, in 2008, when I got an email from him. It was really great to hear from an old friend, one that we grew up with, went to school with, served with in uniform, and one whose memory remains strong, respectful and positive after all these years. Sadly, Al passed away in 2010. All of those who knew Al Holiday miss him greatly.]

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