Kresge's, Hoagies, Sofrito, MLK and Mr Spock

Before we moved to Nicetown, we lived in Fairmount. My Mom was a homemaker and was my caretaker most of the time. Sometimes she would leave me with Mrs. Marie when my sister was in school and she was visiting my father during his bout with Tuberculosis. He spent a lot of time there. They used to quarantine TB patients for a long while. Marie's apartment was downstairs from ours where she lived with her husband. Mrs. Marie was the one that introduced me to Apple butter on Wonder bread (they advertised as the more nutritious vitamin enriched bread). She reminded me of a traditional granny with a bird, oval living room rug, rocking chair, crotchet needles and an old fashioned Ice Box for which she had ice delivered twice a week. Ice was placed in the top of the box and so the cold would travel downward and would cool the box so that you could keep milk cold. You had to drain the drip pan daily otherwise you would have puddles in the kitchen.

To this day when I eat apple butter on whole grain bread, I still think of her.

My mom was a incredible. She would never let anything stop her. She was a real homemaker. She would keep her humble house clean as a whistle. She would rearrange furniture by herself. I remember once her moving the refrigerator to get the dust bunnies that would collect beneath and on the compressor grill on the back.  I would be dragged with her to do all of the shopping. Before there were shopping malls near Philly you had to go shopping on the avenue or go to Market Street in center city.

Although Woolworth's was the king of the 5 & Dime. There was also Wannamaker’s, Lit Brothers, Gimbels and my favorite, Kiddie City. My mother would often go to Kresge's five and dime department store (the company eventually became K-Mart) where I remembered tasting my first Hoagie. My mom and I went to the lunch counter. I remember biting into that mix of deli meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes, onions and the kicker was the oregano and oil. I was hooked. That and a fountain Coke I drank from one of those curvy coke glasses with a straw and the world was right.

I didn't know about Vietnam or Politics in general. I would see images of Martin Luther King Jr and Bobby Kennedy and wonder who they were. There was a picture of JFK on our wall. I later learned that is was a portrait that was a special edition insert  from the newspaper.

Other times we went to Horn and Hardart's. I would almost always have the egg custard or rice pudding. No one makes egg custard any more, Why!  There are other outdated foods like Creamed Chipped beef or Chicken a la King. I just can't figure why custard had to fade away. Horn and Hardart's egg custard was so creamy and good. I would just melt in your mouth. The creamy goodness would go down and leave you with a taste of vanilla and a hint of nutmeg. It was however different that the flan and rice pudding we had at home. My father would make rice pudding with cream of coconut cloves and lots of cinnamon and raisins. It was thicker in consistency than regular rice pudding, much like Thai sticky rice. My dad never made flan at home.

After a long day of shopping with mom I would play with my toys . I had a red  fire engine with pedals and light. The car was made out of metal. I used to crash into the refrigerator so much that it had a dent. My mom was the weekly cook. My dad did all the festival foods. Mom would be to sing in the kitchen while she cooked. As soon as the peppers, onions, cilantro, and garlicky mixture called Sofrito was starting to sauté, my mouth would water. It always took more time than I wanted to have dinner ready. My mother would sing the Spanish songs on one of the few Spanish radio stations in the city. My fathers cousin was a pioneering Disc Jockey in the city at the time. Singing and Sofrito was a great combination. We would have dinner and them mom would put leftovers in a Fiambrera,(stack-able metal lunch tins, probably of Asian origin) that many Puerto Rican Workers used to have when working the sugar cane fields in Puerto Rico. My father could take the fianbrera to work the next day.

I used to wonder what my dad's coworkers would think when they pulled out their ham sandwiches and my father pulled out rice and chickpeas with salted cod fish out of the containers.

Dad circa 1973

My father was old fashioned; he believed his primary responsibility was making ends meet. He rarely missed work. He was blue collar all the way.  He would leave early in the morning in blue work uniform. He shaved and would put on Brute or High Karate aftershave, put on his eye glasses, always, a hat, his Salem's(cigarettes),and go off to work. Working on cars all day he would come home still smelling like a garage. His hands were rough from work and he had perpetual black fingernails from the dirt and oil that he tried to no avail to keep clean. He had changed before coming home in his mechanic blue uniform with the oval name label  of Charles or Chas across his right side where a shirt pocket would be and navy blue work pants in what looked like a dry cleaning bag and hanger from the cleaning service. A clean uniform.

File Copy: Mr Spock

He spent evenings repairing TVs that others discarded. So I had a TV since I was 3 years old. I remember watching Mr. Spock with those Vulcan ears on my black and white 13 inch salvaged TV. I have been a Star Trek fan ever since. He was quite good at fixing things, after all he was a mechanic. He was always willing to help neighbors that needed something fixed. He never mentioned it, but I get the sense that he felt people would take advantage of his generosity.  He tried to go back to school later for electronics, but he wasn't able to finish. My father also played AAA baseball in Puerto Rico. He was a self-admitted good pitcher until the threw his arm out. He had a knuckle ball. To this day he is a still a hardcore Phillies fan.

My father was a smart man with a third grade education. He taught himself to read the newspapers in both English and Spanish and was always aware of current events. He is still is a daily newspaper reader. One Sunday, while I was asking for the comic section of the Sunday edition of the Philadelphia Bulletin.  I asked in the spring of 68 while looking at an editorial cartoon  " Why is the Statue of Liberty crying?”, he simply said that the statue was crying for DR. Martin Luther King Jr. who had just died.

I used to think that if he just didn't drink he would have done better for us. I now look at my own imperfections and realize that he did so much better that I did with my own children.

I wanted to add that Dad hasn't had a drop in 25 years. Cold turkey both Bacardi and beer, and his Salem's cigarettes.