Kevi's Good Food & Garden

My grandfather's house was the community house, anyone could stop by, and there was always a plate of food for them. The Google Maps picture does not do the "garden" justice, as it may have been a transitional period. In the front yard, he would plant his prettiest flowers, and in the back was the vegetable garden and a few fruits, such as the banana tree and lemon tree.
His neighbor, Mrs. VanBoom, had an avocado tree that I helped myself to when the branches drooped low. Mrs. VanBoom was an elderly lady and, last I remember, quite strict when she caught me. Kevin, my grandfather, also had a papaya tree, but I have never been a fan of papaya or honeydew.
My grandfather lived alone and was my mother's rock when she had me at 19. I grew up, quite literally, in these closets and came to enjoy the holiness my grandfather always had. From teaching me how to cook after a Sunday out with my mother, we would always stop by and say hello.
My grandfather's house taught me lessons about what it means to have a community outside the family. The train tracks were one street down, and boys would sneak into the neighborhood and get involved with drugs and drug mules in the squatter camps nearby. My grandfather was a tiny man, towering at 5'6 ft, and knowing that these boys were involved with criminal activities saw their need for food, shelter, and love. He would let these boys stay with him, feed them, and provide them with resources to explore job activities since he worked as an English moderator for the Education Department. And if academics did not work, he would connect them with vocational training such as welding, landscaping, and gardening.