Forbidden Fruit

Forbidden Fruit is the most succulent, the most enticing, and inevitably, the most desirable.

In Hell’s Kitchen, the words politically correct were never part of anyone’s vocabulary.  The most overused words were good, bad, permitted and forbidden.  And they were not only used frequently, but always observed by the younger members of the clan.

I learned early about the words good and bad, and how they applied not only to people, but also things.  Nestled among my earliest recollections is how much I coveted penny candy.  Every corner of a New York Street in those years featured a candy store, which was subsidized primarily by the sale not only of candy, but also cigarettes and a form of gambling called numbers.  However, each store also featured a wondrous glass case filled with shelves of exotic colorful candies all nestled on trays without any wrapping.  These mouthwatering treats, my Mother degreed, were not for her daughters.  Of course, she was far ahead of her time with health precautions, but at the time I only wanted the unwrapped delicacies.  Hershey’s or Nestles candy bars were both permitted, and always available, but never what I desired.  Decades later when I had my own children I applauded her wise precautions, but as a child I detested both Hershey’s and Nestles chocolate encased in their paper jackets.

As my friends and I grew up and started looking around at the male counterparts in the neighborhood, we were warned about the “Bad Boys.”  And that title had nothing to do with ethnicity, color, or finances.  It applied to anyone who had ties or connections with anything illegal or possibly a relationship to one of the “Families.”  However, it also invariably seemed to apply to the best looking young men in the area, and while my friends and I observed the edict, I won’t say we weren’t tempted.

Today so very far from the Neighborhood rules, warnings and admonitions, I sit in my den watching the evening news and listen to the political pundits on TV warning the American people about the danger of one of the candidates leading in the polls.  Then I recall the Forbidden Fruits of yesteryear.  The more the pronouncements, the more repetitious critiques of every word the candidate utters, the more his rank in the polls rises.  It seems ironic, and I remember how desirable everything that was deemed bad had appealed to me.

I wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, the anchor men and women followed the other 16 or 17 potential candidates of both parties with an equal amount of aggressive energy, they might be doing not only the American public, but their viewers a favor.  If we were given time to make our own judgment about the gentleman in question, perhaps we wouldn’t find him as enticing as the Forbidden Fruit of days gone by.  But then again, since it really is the decision of the American voter who they want to lead their country not the American press, maybe it doesn’t matter after all