I Had A Tree

In 1965, kids didn’t stay inside. In Columbus, GA, living in a small rental with no air conditioner was part of the reason. Other reasons included the fact that video games had not been invented and the only thing remotely close to video was our Zenith black and white TV that played soap operas all day long. Why would you want to stay inside? 

Directly behind our house in the St. Mary’s Community was ‘the woods’. Most kids in The South still have a place called ‘the woods’ and almost all of these familiar thickets have a creek. Some of these creeks are the idyllic picture one gets in his or her mind; other times ‘the creek’ is a glorified puddle. 

When I was 4 and we were stationed at Ft. Eustis, a kid in our bunch disappeared, so we ran home and told his mom that John-John had fallen in the Stink-hole. Mothers from all over were scouring ‘the woods’ squalling and hollering his name. John-John popped out from behind a tree. Seems he had created his own little stink-hole. 

‘The woods’ behind our house in Columbus had it all. A really nice creek, a few open meadows, two brothers tromping with pump BB guns—and trees. Lots of trees. Our backyard was really just an extension of ‘the woods’.  Very little grass, plenty of pines, and one enormous hardwood. I climbed that tree almost everyday. There was a certain sweeping limb that grew a few feet horizontal from the trunk and then turned vertical. It was truly like a wooden horse. The horizontal section was large enough to strap on a saddle. The vertical up-turn resembled his neck. It was the perfect limb. 

But there was a slight problem. During the early courtship weeks, my tree played hard to get. Actually, I was too afraid to make the climb to this special limb on this special tree. It was  higher than I had ever been; there were no branches to ‘help’ me get to it, but dang, what a great limb! I admired it from an arm’s length and a light year away. 

One day I decided to go out on a limb. Actually the only way to get to my destination was the trunk. I embraced  it as tightly as I could with everything on a human body that could hug, including my cheek. I inched up the mighty tree’s trunk until I reached my destination. Straddling the horse, grabbing his neck, my heart pounded with delight. 

The weeks led into months. I had straddled my favorite limb on my favorite tree so many times, I no longer had to hug the trunk. I simply made a jump from the lower limb. I remember actually closing my eyes on the ground and climbing to my spot. It was all muscle memory at that point. 

While the climb was always fun, it was the destination that made it worthwhile.  My dad had embarked on his first tour in Vietnam; I was at a new school going through the motions (again) of making new friends. My new teacher was an old bag who took pleasure in calling her fourth grade students ‘little heathens’ with every other breath all the while washing her hands at least 5 times an hour. 

But I had this tree. It gave me comfort and peace. We attended a small Baptist church in 1965 and my ten year old eyes started opening to spiritual things. I guess you could say my tree was my first prayer closet. I’d ask the Lord to bring my dad home safely. Sometimes I’d just sit and ponder about important things—-How I could be a heathen when I went to Training Union? And what in the Sam Hill was Mrs. Dunn doing that got her hands so dirty? My hands got a good washing at least once a day during bath time. 

But a majority of the time, I just straddled my wooden steed and thought about nothing at all. I still have that skill; and yes it is a skill to stop the hamster wheel in your head. 

I had a tree. Notice I never said I owned a tree. It was mine for a while. It treated me well. And I hope a few other kids came along after me and received the same.