A few years ago a co-worker gave me a cutting about 2 feet long from her fig tree.  It looked like a twig in a small pot of dirt with three leaves.  I planted it in my back yard and within two years it had grown big enough to produce figs. Now, maybe 4 or 5 years later it is over 12 feet tall and is LOADED with figs which are coming in right now in the middle of July in South Carolina. Every single branch of the tree has multiple figs. I’ve got most of my kids picking, eating and loving them but try as we might (and even with the help of the birds) we can’t keep up with this tree. I’ll eat a good dozen whenever I pick them.

I can’t help but think about my grandfather Abe Mickel whenever I’m picking figs.  He had two fig trees in his yard that I remember very well.  I remember being around those trees and I remember there being figs in the kitchen.  I wish I had known him longer and better and knew some stories to pass on to my kids, but he left us way too soon.  He passed away when I was around 6 years old, so I don’t really remember anything he ever said to me.  This tree that I have now in my yard ties me to him and the memories of the trees that he had make me wonder about a lot of things every time I am out there under the tree. 

I think about why he left the country of his birth and his extended family and came here.  What drove him to make such a radical change to his life?  I wonder what he had to do to make it possible to come here, what he brought with him, what he taught his children, how he found a place to live, how he started a business, what kinds of things were important to him, what were his favorite things to do, what were his gifts and callings in life, what drove him to do the things he did, what were his spiritual beliefs and most importantly what was his relationship to his Creator. 

I know some facts about his life.  I know he was born in 1889 and came here in 1906. His uncle was already here.  He stayed with him for awhile, got jobs and became a citizen in 1915.  He served in the American army and fought overseas in the trenches in World War I.  In 1920 he went back to his home country to get his mother and sister and sell some property so he could bring them here, but got delayed.  He got married and had a son, and after a few more years eventually was able to bring them all here a few years later.  Once established in the US, he became a successful merchant, bought a house and had three more children one of whom was my mom. 

The questions I would like to know the answers to are the deeper things – his beliefs, motives, feelings, and values.  A few of his relatives that are still living know the answers to some of these questions, but if this quiet family man shared his deep thoughts about most of these issues, they somehow got lost.  One thing I know is that he loved growing things in his yard.  I remember other flowers (Four O’Clocks) and herbs (Spearmint) and vegetables (Tomatoes) that were growing in his yard.  I know he loved those fig trees and he took good care of them – pruning them and wrapping them up in the winter to protect them from the hard West Virginia winters.  I know he loved his family and was a good provider for his wife, children and grandkids.  

These things I wonder about him so strongly when I am watering, fertilizing or harvesting my fig tree, the things I wish I knew, are the things that I can only guess because they weren’t passed on to me.  I say all of this to say to you to spend time with your children and your grandchildren.  Tell them your history.  Teach them what you know how to do.  Play with them.  Have fun with them.  Build memories with them.  Pass on your values, explain your beliefs, your motives, and your feelings.  You might even want to plant a fig tree in your yard, teach them to love figs and why.  Figs are a part of our heritage. 

If any of you want to come over and eat some figs from my tree and sit and tell some stories, please feel free, anytime. Just call and make sure I’m here.  There are still a LOT of small green figs on this tree and I have no idea how long it is going to keep producing this year. 

There’s nothing quite like a fresh ripe fig.