My Italian grandfather also spent am lot of time in his garden. It was an extra lot at the side of our house. He planted tomatoes, potatoes, corn, peppers etc. He also had grape vines growing surrounding the edge of the garden and made his own wine. My mom used to cook a lot of the tomatoes and put them in jars to have throughout the winter months. The following story was told to me by my parents when I grew up to my chagrin, as it was not something I remembered. My grandfather had his way of planting tomatoes in a row. He would dig a large hole, leave enough space in between the holes for room for them to grow He would then have what looked like part of an old broomstick and shaped one end to a point. He would then put a smaller hole in the middle of the deep hole and put the tomato plant root into the small hole and water each plant. On one occasion I was following him as he was planting and when he got to the end of the row he turned to see me with the tomato plants in a bunch in my little hand. He started to yell in Italian and I started to cry. My mom came out to see what was happening and That was he last time I helped grandpa plant anything.
Another great story, Natalie. I can see your disappointment when your grandfather yelled at you. Aww, sad. But you taught me a trick that he used; one I never heard of. Thanks. I'll bet his garden was a masterpiece.
Ed, I once again read this endearing story as I did when you first published it. It is as refreshingly enjoyed as the first time I read it and reminds me of the importance of family. JC Yuill
I love this story. It brings back memories of my father burying my grandfathers tree. In addition to the soil, my father would cover the tree with old linoleum for extra warmth. It was a measure of his success when in the spring it would produce fruit again. Love all your stories
A really lovely story. My brother tried to protect his fig tree in the same way but wasn't successful. I don't know, nor does he, what he did wrong. Obviously he needed your grandfather.
BTW, Ed, I published a novel 2 years ago, Hold Up the Head of Holofernes. Available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Hope you like it. Carol Bonomo Albright
Ed, beautiful photo of a proud man! The fig tree was a labor of love that brought not only the fig, but it spread out much more to all that shared in the family pride. You didn't have the luxury of a home with a sweeping driveway, you had much more love affection and good genes, and you went on to make many people proud of your accomplishments.!
Thank you, Peter. Yes, my grandfather was proud and happy in America. His own home, a successful family, and, of course, a garden. Not to mention his grape arbor from which he harvested grapes, and made his wine. Success in America because of opportunity.
Hello Ed, loved reading your fig tree story again. It was as though you writing my childhood story. 3 decker family home in Mt Pleasant, huge garden, an array of every vegetable, and fruit trees, especially mulberry tree, grape vines and of course fig tree. So beautiful was our large flower garden with gladiolas, poppies, roses, etc. I could go on and on. Also ready available were those eggs from coop - chickens and rabbits gave us those delicious cacciatore dinners that nonna made😋. Ahh, what warm memories 🥰. Happy to see you are back Ed. Love love your writings. Josie
You just wrote my story too. A different 3-decker arrangement - we lived on the first floor, my dad's parents (who also owned the house) on the second, and dad's sister and her family on the third floor. The fig tree ritual was performed annually just as you described so beautifully, except that it was a family project with my dad and uncle pitching in with gramp. It still took most of the day. But our tree was only 7-8 feet or so tall, and it was not easy to bury. I can just imagine doing it with a 15 foot tall tree. As you know, our 3-deckers were only about 800 feet apart, but you lived on the high ground 115 feet above sea level while I was only 12 feet higher than the Woonasquatucket river. Given that much of an off-set, the "sand bank" is probably a fault, but I cannot be sure. I always enjoy your stories! Keep writing! Ron DiPippo
Thanks, Tony. The fig tree story is the story of the immigrants' life . . . hard work bears fruit. Protect your tree. It is your future, your security.
This is a great story about the lengths that some hardworking people will go through to achieve what is important to them. I had a friend from my years at Brown & Sharpe that told me a similar story about his grandfather who did the same with his prized Fig Tree. His name was John Bosco and lived on Julian St, not very far from your childhood home. Keep the ink flowing.
Hi Dr. Iannuccilli, this brings back memories of my like in a triple-decker in East Boston. Grandparents on the 1st floor, my family on the 2nd, Aunt and Uncle on the 3rd. My grandfather had his pear tree!!
Hello, Dr. Ed. Great article and, for some of us, memories. It is really hard to understand how hard that generation worked: family, work..10-12 hrs/6-7 days/wk., gardens and, of course, wine making…hope you are well…
My Italian grandfather also spent am lot of time in his garden. It was an extra lot at the side of our house. He planted tomatoes, potatoes, corn, peppers etc. He also had grape vines growing surrounding the edge of the garden and made his own wine. My mom used to cook a lot of the tomatoes and put them in jars to have throughout the winter months. The following story was told to me by my parents when I grew up to my chagrin, as it was not something I remembered. My grandfather had his way of planting tomatoes in a row. He would dig a large hole, leave enough space in between the holes for room for them to grow He would then have what looked like part of an old broomstick and shaped one end to a point. He would then put a smaller hole in the middle of the deep hole and put the tomato plant root into the small hole and water each plant. On one occasion I was following him as he was planting and when he got to the end of the row he turned to see me with the tomato plants in a bunch in my little hand. He started to yell in Italian and I started to cry. My mom came out to see what was happening and That was he last time I helped grandpa plant anything.
Another great story, Natalie. I can see your disappointment when your grandfather yelled at you. Aww, sad. But you taught me a trick that he used; one I never heard of. Thanks. I'll bet his garden was a masterpiece.
Ed, I once again read this endearing story as I did when you first published it. It is as refreshingly enjoyed as the first time I read it and reminds me of the importance of family. JC Yuill
Thanks, John. And thanks for subscribing. There will be many more stories. And new. And fun. Stay tuned.
Thanks so much for letting me know. I'll find their site.
I love this story. It brings back memories of my father burying my grandfathers tree. In addition to the soil, my father would cover the tree with old linoleum for extra warmth. It was a measure of his success when in the spring it would produce fruit again. Love all your stories
Thank you, Mary Ann. Linoleum. Very clever.
A really lovely story. My brother tried to protect his fig tree in the same way but wasn't successful. I don't know, nor does he, what he did wrong. Obviously he needed your grandfather.
BTW, Ed, I published a novel 2 years ago, Hold Up the Head of Holofernes. Available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Hope you like it. Carol Bonomo Albright
Thanks for your comments and for subscribing, Carol. Yes, I bought and read your novel. Loved it.
So glad you had heard of it and liked it. I'm now trying to find a publisher for my 2nd novel about the 1937 Italian colonization of Libya.
Warm regards,
Carol
Carol, are you a member of The Authors Guild? They have all kinds of advice about publishers.
Thanks for sharing this, Ed. I enjoyed it. Reminded me of my Papa.
Thanks. Tom. So nice to hear from you. Thanks for subscribing
Ed, beautiful photo of a proud man! The fig tree was a labor of love that brought not only the fig, but it spread out much more to all that shared in the family pride. You didn't have the luxury of a home with a sweeping driveway, you had much more love affection and good genes, and you went on to make many people proud of your accomplishments.!
Thank you, Peter. Yes, my grandfather was proud and happy in America. His own home, a successful family, and, of course, a garden. Not to mention his grape arbor from which he harvested grapes, and made his wine. Success in America because of opportunity.
Hello Ed, loved reading your fig tree story again. It was as though you writing my childhood story. 3 decker family home in Mt Pleasant, huge garden, an array of every vegetable, and fruit trees, especially mulberry tree, grape vines and of course fig tree. So beautiful was our large flower garden with gladiolas, poppies, roses, etc. I could go on and on. Also ready available were those eggs from coop - chickens and rabbits gave us those delicious cacciatore dinners that nonna made😋. Ahh, what warm memories 🥰. Happy to see you are back Ed. Love love your writings. Josie
Beautiful note. Thanks for subscribing, Josie. More fun to come.
Doc, great story, had no idea what one had to do annually to preserve fig trees, keep the figs, give me those tomatoes you spoke of. Putterman.
Thank you, Paul. So pleased you are a subscriber.
Hi Ed,
You just wrote my story too. A different 3-decker arrangement - we lived on the first floor, my dad's parents (who also owned the house) on the second, and dad's sister and her family on the third floor. The fig tree ritual was performed annually just as you described so beautifully, except that it was a family project with my dad and uncle pitching in with gramp. It still took most of the day. But our tree was only 7-8 feet or so tall, and it was not easy to bury. I can just imagine doing it with a 15 foot tall tree. As you know, our 3-deckers were only about 800 feet apart, but you lived on the high ground 115 feet above sea level while I was only 12 feet higher than the Woonasquatucket river. Given that much of an off-set, the "sand bank" is probably a fault, but I cannot be sure. I always enjoy your stories! Keep writing! Ron DiPippo
Beautiful. Keep writing, Ron. Thanks for subscribing.
Always enjoy your stories Ed. I've been looking for you on GoLocal Prov - are you no longer writing there?
No, off GoLocal and the reason why I went to the blog. Love it. Lots of traffic and fun notes.
I never get tired of hearing this great story. Reminds me of my Grandfather who loved his garden.
Thanks, Tony. The fig tree story is the story of the immigrants' life . . . hard work bears fruit. Protect your tree. It is your future, your security.
This is a great story about the lengths that some hardworking people will go through to achieve what is important to them. I had a friend from my years at Brown & Sharpe that told me a similar story about his grandfather who did the same with his prized Fig Tree. His name was John Bosco and lived on Julian St, not very far from your childhood home. Keep the ink flowing.
Thanks for subscribing, Ed. Nostalgia. Good days.
Hi Dr. Iannuccilli, this brings back memories of my like in a triple-decker in East Boston. Grandparents on the 1st floor, my family on the 2nd, Aunt and Uncle on the 3rd. My grandfather had his pear tree!!
I'm so please I rekindled your memories, Gino. Write your story!
Hello, Dr. Ed. Great article and, for some of us, memories. It is really hard to understand how hard that generation worked: family, work..10-12 hrs/6-7 days/wk., gardens and, of course, wine making…hope you are well…
Thank you, Ed. Yes, it was about work and Family. The tree was the metaphor.