The Sacred and the Profane Or Peace, Palms, and Gossip

With Easter upon us I think of Old South Philly and its curious mix of the sacred and the profane. I remember the Easters of my youth as fun affairs with a mess of religious services candy and Ricotta pie.

It would start on Palm Sunday when we excitedly went to church to get something for nothing- Palm. Palm played an important role in Old South Philly- every crucifix over every bed had a stalk of decaying palm running thought it, never quiet sure what purpose it served. I did know a cumare named Angelina that claimed with the authority of a hierophant that old Palm must be burnt every year and its ashes washed down the kitchen sink or else you would have bad luck.. This was the Sacred Rubrics of Angelina There was also an entire Palm culture with people who were experts at twisting and shaping the Palm into all sorts of things, rather like a balloonist at a child’s party. People sold these Palm Sculptures and braids along 9th street or Passyunk Avenue. They were not blessed so I surmise people bought them as decorative items only. Although I never knew what was so decorative about twisted, braided , and dried palm. Still a large piece of this would bring many a smile to many a cumare. I always thought it looked best on a grave

Palm Sunday would also bring a flurry of visitors as there was a tradition to visit people and give them a piece of palm. So Palm Sunday saw an army of guests bringing peace, palms, and gossip. My great Aunt Magdalena, the daughter of the Duchess, would lead the pack. She was especially good at securing copious amounts of palm, perhaps she bribed Horace the old sacristan at our church or smuzzed a member of the Sodality, but every Palm Sunday she entered out kitchen with enough stalks of the stuff to cover Passyunk Avenue had Christ desired to enter South Philly in triumph. Which was perhaps a good thing that He did not so desire, as I am not sure what sort of reception a long haired non Italian that went about with poor people and prostitutes and preached love and forgiveness would have met with the discriminating rancorous people I grew up with.


Palm Sunday would also require one of those odysseys to Holy Cross cemetery with my Uncle Romeo. Many a dead Gumba received palms on their grave, complete with tidbits of stories from my uncle Romeo about the great Gumbas of the past, hints of the world before my birth in 1958. I believe on an average Palm Sunday we palmed about 63 graves.

Holy week - I remember my father was enthralled by the fact that the Wednesday of Holy Week was traditionally referred to as Spy Wednesday, I think he remained us of this consistently from Passion Sunday to Good Friday. I never knew what was the cause of my father’s obsession with Spy Wednesday, yet he was enthralled with it. On Good Friday he would also make the claim that no one ever suffered as much as Christ. This was rather odd as my father was not in any conventional way religious, he respected the church because it was , in his eyes, an Italian institution. There was no conviction apart from an ethnic identity, he would just as soon pray to Iupiter Optimus Maximus if Rome erected his temple anew.

I was an altar boy and every Easter was corralled into a number of acolyte and servant duties; for this we were rewarded by Father Carbo, chief of the altar boys, with a very large butter cream filled Easter egg. Father Carbo was a very nice priest and well liked by us all, he also was rather portly and prone to wearing a large black cape. Needless to say he was a sight walking along 10th street, especially when the wind took hold of his cape.

About our gift Easter egg, it was large and must have weighted 2 kilos. My Grandmother Ma saw this egg as an commodity of great value and tried her best to ration it. She would dole out to us exceedingly thin slices, this guaranteed a long life to the Egg. A life that far exceeded its shelf life. By late May it was an unhealthy additional to our refrigerator and my mother would quickly dispose of it. My Grandmother’s desire to conserve had only resulted in waste, yet again the old South Philly irony.


With Maundy Thursday would come the visits to the seven churches, a social outing at best. I remember many of my female relatives from La Duchessa Magdalena to my Aunt Norma would make a tour of the local churches on the feast of the institution of the Lord’s Supper. Of course to them it was like a Churches of the Rich and Famous tour, at about 10 pm they would pile into our kitchen and the comparisons would start- Did you see the flowers at St. Edmund’s ohh so cheap.. The draperies was so beautiful at Stella Marris, St. Monica’s does a good job, That altar at St. Paul’s looks so cumary…No reference was made of Gethsemane, The Blessed Sacrament, or God’s Grace.

Good Friday was for dying eggs,. “Why do we dye eggs at Easter?” I would ask. The response ranged from “cause you do” to “the colors represent the blood of Christ…” It was not until years later that I discovered that the egg in fact represents birth and renewal.

Easter Sunday - baskets and the new clothes from Passyunk avenue ( Arnold’s and Kiddy Land did their best business at this time) and a day out. Perhaps we spent the day at a massive Ravioli and Roast Pork dinner at my Aunt Norma’s after an egg nog and Ricotta pie morning at my Aunt Maria’s ( she made the best Ricotta pie) or perhaps the Easter Show at Palumbo’s (I recall one Palumbo Easter with Jimmy Durante with his Midriff formed dancers).

I also remember the time we all ( and by all I mean the entire Braccia clan) spent Easter at the famed Pub Tiki restaurant at 17th and Walnut in Center City Philly. The Old Pub Tiki offered traditional Pub and Polynesian food (??) and the perfect place for a group of Italian Americans to spend Easter. I remember my paternal grandmother- called Mama- sitting in one of those high backed rattan chairs like Morticia Addams. She loved the PuPu platter. Mama was a creature of 19th century rural Italy so her enjoyment of a PuPu platter was indeed an incongruous event.

There were also the great times spent at the Twin Shoppe at 10th and Tasker, Easter was a very busy time for them as they made Easter Baskets to order- and what orders they received. In Old South Philly adults also received Easter baskets! Yes perhaps filled with cigars or gourmet food and wine.. or jewels.. And the twin shop made them all to order. Large immense baskets in the shape of ships of the line and absolutely bursting with treats. Viola, wife of Joe one of the twin owners, was extremely apt at creating these baskets. I remember the Easter season working in the twin shop and the crowds of people and the many made to order baskets, as well as the conversation that touched on everything from movies to opera. We sometimes worked till 2 am !

So Easter was fun, but to be honest some of the best Easters I every had were not in South Philly at all but in Damascus Syria. I lived in Syria from 1991-1996. Damascus has a 30% Christian population and takes Easter very seriously. I very much enjoyed the somber and serene churches and the ancient rituals in Greek, Aramaic and Latin as well as visiting the 7 churches in the Christian neighborhood of Bab Touma every Holy Thursday. What was nice about Easter in Syria was no one came to visit on Palm Sunday with gossip about their neighbors, people understood the meaning of their faith and the rituals it practiced, and they visited churches as a sign of devotion, not to critic the decor.

So Fear not there is life beyond South Philly, and to be honest things are sometimes even better.

Still, sure would like a great big Twin Shop Easter Basket with Jellybeans, Chocolate and Cigars as well as a chunk of Aunt Maria’s Ricotta Pie.

One other thing, Easter also is the arrival of Spring , but I am in the tropics where every day is summer… I sure do miss spring..

So to all - have a Happy Easter a Kosher Passover a prayful Maulidur Raza and enjoy the Spring.