Thought you all might enjoy the attached story. It is so much like the memories I have of growing up in NY and what my Bella fig reminds me of.

Steve,
thanks so much for shareing that, after reading i thought about my family as im only left of immediate family and my eyes hurt . My family came to New York like so many others from Italy and other countries and then Chicago with tree of corse. It lives thru cutting which i hope to get one day from distant relatives whom i only see when phone rings late at night with bad news .
The story brings back many memories of lost family, grandma, mother, father , brother, uncles, slow pace life where people talked and helped one another which is still happens but not as much basically in just a passing hello or goodbye with neighbors. My nextdoor neighbor brings some joy back of days past when he some years back saw me picking figs and mentioned "oh i love figs" i looked at my tree's which i grew in half whiskey barrels at the time and siad to my self im gonna suprise him as next day when he went out i put one of the tree's in his yard and he was so happy, it died back severly when he stored in his shed and that summer i would share mine with him . I had rooted a Sals and gave him the following year and siad please put it in your garage not shed which he did and following spring he got figs and was very happy his wife made fig bread and brought over to house. He retired many years ago and i just did last January at young age to enjoy whats left and we have nice chats during warm weather and exchange vegatables and look at the fig trees.
Thanks Steve for posting that.

It brings back many memories to me as well. I grew up in a little neighborhood just like the one in the story. I recall sitting under shade trees with family and friends at the fence that seperated our yards. We had a tall cherry tree, a fig tree and a blueberry bush. We would pick fresh fruit and sit around on hot days sharing with each other. Us kids would play in the yards and climb over the fence a hundred times in an afternoon. Our friends would bake fresh bread and desserts to share. Much simplier times that will forever shape me as a person. When the last family house was about to be sold in Queens, my wife and I considered buying it and moving the family there. It is still the same small Italian neighborhood (one of the last good ones). I wanted to give my 3 boys the experience of growing up in that type of environment (there are so few left these days). Unfortunately, the house needed so much work that we just couldn't swing it at the time. But, I do have the fig tree, the memories and the stories to share with the kids.

Steve- That was wonderful and very touching.  Thank you for sharing :)

My grandparents moved from Detroit in the 50's and eventually built a house in Ojai (hour+ north of LA) and had fruit trees, citrus, peaches, etc, and fig trees. My grandfather, was from Denmark, but loved his figs, fresh, dried, any way he could get them. When I would visit in the summer, he would be picking figs - but for me, they were one of the most disgusting fruit on earth. Couldn't even get near them. Now, all these years later I have finally discovered fgis, and have more trees than he ever dreamed of. Every Christmas we got him a "Mission Pak" of dried fruit, always heavy with the figs. I helped eat the dates, and the cherries and such, but never got near the figs that he so much liked.

Jon,

Your story reminds me of my kids - they really do not like figs at all. I remember it took me a while to acquire a taste for them when I was a kid too. I really only ate them because the older members of the family talked about them like they were the best thing on earth - and as a kid you want to have a connection with the adults. It wasn't until I was much older that I really began to enjoy them and appreciate what they meant (traditions). My kids will enjoy them one day hopefully along with the traditions. I think for much of the "fig community" it is these links to our past that really fuel our enthusiasm for this fruit. Thanks so much for the site, the forum and all your hard work - its priceless.

Steve,  this was both a beautiful and a sad story.  I have always said that the figs and the fig trees are much more than just eating the fruit,  they tie us in with the core of who we are.  I wish I could write the the gentleman who wrote it and tell him to go and get cuttings from his fathers tree and plant them in his yard.  Thats ashame the neglect and how for years we tend and care for our trees to the tee.  This is a very common story, especially in us Italian families, but I love to hear every one of them, good find.  I printed it out and will let others in the family read it and share it with them.   It brings back very good memories, both of Italy and here in America.  Thanks for posting it.  I still want to write to this man and tell him.  Okay,  thanks again, it was really nice to see this I can relate to this.  Its much more than just a tree with fruit on it.   Our special trees have alot of meaning, especially when it is one that has been in our family for generations.  Ciao ciao

Maggie,

I'm glad you enjoyed the story - I felt the same way ... I wanted to tell the author to go and take cuttings! Of all the things in my life, I remember those days the clearest. You are right, figs are so much more than just a fruit. They represent all those things that our parents and their parents cherished: hope, prosperity, family, community, and tradition. I'm glad you are sharing that story with others - it keeps those values alive.  

For people living in Canada here is another interesting story...

A fig tree grows in Mile End 

Thanks for contributing that story, I really enjoyed it.

I just remember me climbing those old fat fig trunks to them "not so
easily accessible"  good figs (Mediterranean region).
That was a long time ago, when I was still very young...

That's a real shame that you were not successful. I had similar poor luck getting "Bella" cuttings from the mother tree. The tree was later destroyed by new owners. Thankfully, my sister-in-law (who happens to have black thumbs) was some how able to get one to root. It was the only surviving cutting of the tree in my family for about 100 years. She gave it to me when she realized it was the only survivor - she couldn't take the pressure and responsibility. Now Bella is growing strong in my yard and my kids are 5th generation with the tree (too bad they are too small and don't really like figs yet). I hope you get that 3rd chance when I am sure you will be successful. Having that type of family heirloom is priceless.