Thursday, January 18, 2007


My mostly Irish heritage included a meat and potatoes diet. My mom’s French blood meant we got lots of baked desserts. I had no complaints.

But for fresh fruits, I had to go out and pick my own, sort of.

The first tangerine I ate was picked from a branch adjacent to a tree fort in Joe Piantadosi’s yard. The Piantadosis were musical. The name used to turn up in movie credits. This was when my family lived in North Hollywood.

I probably ate two or three of the tangerines before decided I really didn’t like the taste. I still don’t.

Next door to our apartment on Whipple was a home on a half-acre lot, with more than one tree fort. In addition to some good climbing trees, they had two or three fruit trees. My first plum came off one of those branches. Plums are good.

Pud’s all excited about what he’s calling “extended” or “complete” minerality.

“Just because I’m mineral doesn’t necessarily mean I’m a boulder. If I’m mineral, then, say, a plum is mineral. So, I think I’m a fruit. In fact, I’m a plum.”

“The juiciest,” I assured him.

Back to my point about tree forts: my tree-climbing activity has definitely gone way down since childhood.
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