I told my friend, DiAnne, that I could sincerely relate to her loss as I had had dozen or more beautiful Pear trees taken out along my street when I was little --living in Oklahoma. I told her that event in my life had truly torn at my heartstrings. I then jokingly told DiAnne that the latter event in my life had probably been the beginning of the rebel --the crusader of justice for the 'helpless individual'-- taking root in me. Well then, DiAnne, of course wanted to hear my story. So I took a little bit of time and wrote it down for her.
I was able to post Part 1 of the story for her on Facebook, but FB seems to be balking at Part 2 for some reason? Facebook the critic ; ) Anyhow, thought I would just post it here for her to read and perhaps you might enjoy as well? This story may give those of you that know me personally a better idea of where it is that I am often coming from. So read or don't, for the rest of you ...But this is for you, DiAnne. I truly have heartfelt empathy for you in the loss of your beloved Willow tree. Love to you, my friend. ♥
"Save the Pear Trees!!" - Part 1
(a.k.a. Isabelle the 'activist', the early years ; )
We lived in an old house, in an older neighborhood, surrounded by really tall trees. Then again, when you are only four years old perhaps all trees appear to be really tall? The trees in my neighborhood were mostly Pecan, Walnut, Sycamore and Oak to the best of my recollection, but there were also many ornamentals in front yards and lining the sidewalk expanse of street-side yard owned by the city. Along my street were rows of Pear trees. The Pear trees in my neighborhood weren’t just ornamentals either; these trees actually bore fruit every summer. I can still vividly recall the beautiful white blooms, the sweet smell of flowered essence, buzzing bees and the excitement when the pears were finally ripe enough to pick and eat.
I loved all the trees in my neighborhood. These trees were fabulous for climbing, building forts and all sorts of other creative endeavors, but the Pear trees had a special place in my heart because they were so very beautiful and they bore the most succulent fruit in summertime. For some reason –being 4 years old, I guess, and still filled with such a sense of wonder for the world around me—I got the biggest thrill out of being able to walk across the street, pick a handful of pears and then eat them straight off the tree. Of course, I had to be lifted up most of the time in order to reach the fruit-bearing branches towering way above my head. I had learned that you don’t eat the ones that had fallen on the ground as these were usually rotten and filled with all sorts of insects, which although cool were not recommended for consumption.
As in all really good stories, there is usually a problem that must be solved, a really bad villain and if the story is lucky: an amazing super-hero who sweeps in to the save the day, right? Well in my story here, the fruit laying on the ground wound up being “the problem” at some point. Neighbors began complaining about the swarms of flies and other insects that were attracted to the fallen fruit and since the land on which trees grew belonged to the city, it seemed that none of the neighbors wanted to assume the chore of picking up the rotten fruit. Enter “the bad guy”: the city … who I happened to think at the time was actually a person named “city.” Well, it turned out that the city didn’t want to assume the chore of picking up the rotten pears either; that is to say, that the city didn’t want to pay for the rotten fruit to be picked up. I guess, a more cost effective solution was deemed to be cutting the Pear trees down altogether.
@Copyrighted Story, June 2012. Isabelle Black Smith: All Rights Reserved.
[ Continued in a Note (click to continue reading) "Save the Pear Trees!!" Part 1 & 2
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