Pomegranates

Pomegranates

          Fall isn’t fall without eggnog and pomegranates. The San Fernando Valley of Southern California was built around orchards: oranges, lemons, grapefruits, apples, avocados, and pomegranates. When the Developers came through and produced the never-ending sub-divisions during the Post-War years of the 1950’s and 1960’s, they kept many of those orchards on the property of the new homes. An area of the Valley was even named for the pomegranates, Granada Hills. Granada is the Spanish equivalent. The neat, rounded shrubs were introduced to California in 1769.

          In December of 2000, I decided it was time take a walk back in time to that place that my thoughts idolized for years. I drove through the streets we walked through as kids. We plucked those precious gems off the trees that grew so freely. One of the yards had overgrown pomegranate trees. They were wasting away on the ground! Recently we paid $2.59 per pomegranate in Lehi, Utah! It is a yearly tradition for us to purchase them – regardless of the cost. Like eggnog, that is only sold during the Fall months.

          As kids we plucked them from all the trees. We would split them open on street signs when we did not want to use our fingernails. Many times some went bad simply because we had too many!

          When I was a small child, my mom made jelly from the precious juice of pomegranates. Her father would serve me Shirley Temples, a non-alcoholic drink made from concentrated pomegranate juice, 7-Up and a maraschino cherry. My whole life, I thought she made popsicles, too, from pomegranates. When I turned 43, I asked her about it. Nope, just the jelly!

          During an unusually enormous windstorm that swept through during the Fall of 1981, the fruit blew off those old trees. They rolled down the streets. My brothers, always resourceful when it came to something free, grabbed several large greenish black, trash bags. They filled all of those bags. We had free fruit for some time. I made fresh squeezed juice. Such a treat!

          November 2006, my mom, my daughter, and I sat in Mom’s t.v. room eating pomegranates while watching the final episode of M*A*S*H*.  She had never seen it, although she had wanted to. I had viewed it when it was first aired back in 1983.

          My boyfriend, Bill Schumacher, and I raced home from school. The whole world was going to watch the finale. We were in school at Los Angeles Valley College. Our classes were late getting out. We arrived home in time to see the part where Hawkeye was in the mental ward. He was trying to piece together the events that lead him there. I never saw the beginning until November 10, 2006 when my kids and I watched it. The eleventh and final series was a birthday gift from my kids. We own the entire series. It is an integral part of our lives, so much so that when I hear the introduction music, I can close my eyes and feel as if I am a teen-age again.

          My mom was giving me things that she no longer needed. I wanted to share something that was meaningful. Pomegranates and a television show that epitomized my childhood for good and for bad. She had a picture of her graduating class from high school .They were the first graduating class of James Monroe High School in Sepulveda, California. I, too, attended twenty years after she did. I well remember the building the picture was taken next to, T-Hall. I had classes in that same building. I had seen this picture countless times. This time, a face other than my mother’s looked familiar. I wondered if it was Donna Ludwig, Richie Valen’s girlfriend. As if she knew what I was thinking, my mom stood beside and pointed her out. Mom had once told me that she knew Donna, but that was it. I did not realize that the girl went to Monroe as well. Mom described the group of friends Donna hung out with and the response after Richie died in a plane crash. Our family has since stood together at the very spot the picture was taken so long ago. We have paid our respects at Richie’s grave site as well as his beloved mother.

          Today, tales of its benefits are widely circulated. Religions tout it as a symbol of righteousness. Folk medicine considers it an astringent. It is used as a natural dye for synthetic fabrics. The culinary world considers it a spice. There are even advertisements boasting of its cleansing powers. When I was a kid, it was just an unusual fruit. Today, it is a sacred tradition. We have now passed this tradition on to my grandchildren. Lizzy loves to go around our home saying, “I love pomogwanits!”

          For my next birthday, Mom blessed me with a small case of pomegranates.

Kelli McDonald

October 2013