Aww, God bless her where she is!
When I lived in a big city rowhome neighborhood, one of my neighbors who had been born in Italy (and never learned English) owned a house-less lot around 15' by 55' next to his house, where he planted a garden. He had built raised beds on both sides and the back, and although it was between two 3-story houses, it got sun every afternoon as it faced west. The crowning glory of his garden was a big fig tree in the raised bed across the back—“Fighi.”
He lived to be over 100, and still toddled out to poke around with his peppers, onions, green beans, tomatoes, and carnations. What an inspiration he was!
What an inspiration your neighbor was, indeed! Great story!
My Grandma (and Grandpa, too) were from Czechoslovakia. Grandma came as a teenager, and grandpa was a little boy. Their families both landed in Brooklyn.
Anyway, once they were married they moved to Florida to raise a family. That fig tree was one of many different trees planted by Grandpa, and Grandma made kolachen with fig preserves as filling. She did learn English, but it was harder for her than for Grandpa. They were very insistent that all of their children learn proper English and used good grammar.
So when I was a kid and wanted to use Southern slang, Mama corrected me and reminded me how hard it was for her mom. I once told her I didn’t “write like that” meaning the poor grammar, but she insisted that I stop speaking with poor grammar, too.
I admit, I do like using “ain’t” from time to time.