Trees

When we look at trees, we speculate about the conditions and the circumstances that led to their appearance, but we don't pass judgement on the tree.  We see a tree that's twisted and gnarled, and we think, "That tree was beaten hard by the wind for many years," but we don't blame the tree for the wind.  We see another tree that's stunted and small, and we think, "That tree grew on bare rock.  It's amazing how life perseveres even in the face of adversity," but we don't blame the tree for the adversity.  We might see a third tree that's stately and tall and think, "Some acorn found itself some good soil and sun and grew to this big tree," but we don't praise the tree for selecting the sun and the soil.

We're not that way with people.  We see someone homeless on the street, and part of us blames the person for bad decisions and lifestyle choices we think they might have made.  We see another person that's diseased or deformed and we want to avoid that person partially out of fear of contracting whatever that person has, but mostly because that person makes us feel uncomfortable about ourselves.  We see another person, healthy, wealthy, and good-looking, and think "There's a person who's done well in life," and grant them privileges and waive burdens they otherwise would have to bear.

I've been spending a lot of my pandemic shelter-in-place time walking around the block in my neighborhood, and noticing small details about the trees and wildlife that I've somehow missed for some 15 years now.  I've actually come to not only appreciate but to actually love my neighborhood more than ever before.  The run of beautiful weather we've been having, notwithstanding the all-too-frequent tornado watches, hasn't hurt my appreciation.

I have noticed in the past that one certain tree across from the house next door to mine had some names and other graffiti carved into it.  The son of my elderly neighbors once told me that he remembers carving the names when he was a kid back in the 1960s.  I imagine carving initials into a tree is probably considered "cruel" in some circles and at best "unnecessary" in others, but I don't find fault with the kids who did the carving - I did much the same thing when I was their age and the tree frankly seems fine.   Now, I actually like and can appreciate the unusual texture it gives the trunk of that particular tree, an unusual patina compared to the rest of its neighbors.

Another tree just a few yards down has the name "Patton" carved into it.  Today, I met the carver and learned the story.  While I was on one of my many walks of the day, I saw that a man had pulled his car over and was taking a picture of the carving.  As I passed, I politely introduced myself and he volunteered that he had carved the tree back in 2000.  He used to live in the neighborhood, next door to me but on the other side of my elderly neighbors whose son had carved the other tree, and Patton was his daughter.  Today, he had dropped her off for an appointment at nearby Piedmont Hospital (I didn't ask why), and while he was waiting, he wanted to get a picture to let her know that her name was still on the tree.  We chatted for a moment or two and dropped a few neighborhood names, and then he was on his way.

Now, whenever I pass the tree, I know that there's a woman by that name and the tree bears testimony not only to her existence, but to a father's love for his daughter.