Of Pits and Seeds: Four Generations
“The Kingdom of Heaven is like… a seed… but when it is grown, it is the greatest herb…” – Matthew 13, 31
My greatest joy is spending time with our six granddaughters, all five and younger. Their greatest joy is when I make apple pie with them.
Note, I said “make”, not “bake.” There is no oven, or dough, involved.
I take a large apple, cut it into dozens of paper-thin slices. We arrange them one-by-one artistically, symmetrically covering an entire large plate. Each girl, in charge of one spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves, takes her turn sprinkling it on each slice.
They then take our “Pie”to offer slices to their parents. Only then do we take turns devouring the remaining slices. (They each try to find the slice with the most spice.)
Finally, we lick the plate of any remaining spices. (At that point, they want to repeat the exercise, but we don’t.)
As I slice the apple, I tell them I have to dispose of the pits.
They correct me: “Grandpappy, those aren’t pits! They’re seeds! And we want to keep them!”
Indeed, they take turns, each successively collecting and hoarding a their precious “Seeds.”
Why do I call them “Pits”?
Like most things, I learned that from my parents.
Why did my parents call them “Pits”?
Because to them, Holocaust survivors who had witnessed the deaths of their parents, siblings, friends, spouses and children, life was “The Pits.”
They had a negative perspective of everything. Their remaining melodies were all played in a minor key.
As I witness my granddaughters savoring their seeds, I realize, they are right; my parents were not.
The visionary who planted apple nurseries all across North America was not “Johnny Apple-pit”, but “Johnny Appleseed.”
The Kingdom of Heaven does not originate with a pit, but a seed.
When people ask me if I believe in God, I reply, when I endlessly recall what my parents experienced, I find it unreasonable to do so. When, however, I contemplate their grandchildren, and their great-grandchildren, I conclude it is inconceivable not to.
My parents were never privileged to meet their great-grandchildren, but their great-grandchildren, named in their memory, in my mind’s eye, have justified their existence.
Their great-grandchildren prove they not only survived, they prevailed.
It is generally assumed that the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, good and evil, in the Garden of Eden was an apple (because the Latin word Malum means both “Evil” and “Apple.”) In truth, it was never specified.
Nonetheless, I know my truth.
My apple “pie”, more importantly, my seeds who helped me make it, have provided me priceless knowledge about both evil and good.
It took four generations to go from “The Pits” To “The Seeds.”
It was worth the wait
