Long before people today were born into this world, there existed a very large tree, an ancient tree, as some called it. The tree had grown for centuries in a welcoming valley ringed by cascading hillsides.
The first people to venture into this beautiful valley were at once drawn to the magnificent tree with its stout trunk and its broad limbs that spread in every direction.
Generation upon generation, the sun rose and set each day, casting the tree’s elongated shadow on the grassy expanse where families and children would picnic and play.
The tree’s very stature made it an imposing landmark from which traveling preachers, magistrates and sweethearts would often pronounce from beneath its great limbs.
Honored in ways so quiet and unobtrusive the tree reciprocated by displaying its resplendent seasonal colors; extending to its highest boughs, leaves acknowledged those who passed by, appearing to wave in the pleasant breeze.
It was commonly accepted, by the inhabitants within this hamlet, that few things were more exemplary than this beautiful, stalwart tree that stood as a silent sentinel over the nostalgically attractive settlement.
Through the years the community continued to grow, as did the venerable tree; however, the tree’s significance seemed to fade with each passing generation. The stories of beginnings were no longer passed on as many of the original voices were now silent and the old stories were eventually forgotten by all but a few.
One day it was decided, by those not compelled by things of the past, to cut the sheltering tree down to make room for what they unwittingly believed to be betterment.
The ancient tree was laid bare, its history inscribed on the disk of its naked death-wound luminous in the sun. The rings of its years, its scars, all the suffering, all the affliction, all the happiness and prosperity stood visibly written, the narrow lean years, the expanded splendid years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured.
The tree’s history of past events mirrored the history of the peoples who had inhabited the quaint village.
Now bygone times, as the ancient tree could not withstand the woodman’s ax …
Several years passed and the ancient tree was all but forgotten.
Then one day a young girl, sitting with her grandmother as she paged through an old family photo album, chanced upon a photo of the ancient tree. Standing next to the tree was a little girl attempting to reach her arms around the tree’s massive girth, as though hugging a welcomed friend.
“That’s your mother when she was just about your age,” Granny smiled.
“Where is that tree?” the little girl asked inquisitively.
Granny paused, then responded, “That tree was cut down years before you were born,” her words trailed off, her gaze fixed on what seemed a distant memory. There was sadness in Granny’s voice as she reflected on things that had been.
The granddaughter studied the old photograph, tracing the outline of the tree with her finger.
The very next morning, as the sun was spilling over the hillsides that surrounded the village, the little girl could be seen in the village square, gently cradling a small sapling as she slipped it into a freshly dug hole, firmly pressing her fingers into the soil around its slender trunk. Standing to her feet, she stepped back approvingly, reached down and clasped the handle of Granny’s old tin watering can and began to sprinkle the soil that encircled the little tree.
Satisfied she had done all should could …she turned and slowly made her way back to Granny’s, watering can in hand.
As she did so, she softly whispered, as though a prayer, “Grow. Please, grow!”
Epilogue …
The mystery of trees that have planted themselves into our stories should not be overlooked. Mankind has long placed significance on its venerable old trees, and the greater the age, the more important they become. Various cultures both ancient and current believe these historic trees should continue to serve as a touchstone to our past.
Let them continue to be ever-present witnesses to our story …
Former Cook County Commissioner Garry Gamble is writing this ongoing column about the various ways government works, as well as other topics. At times the column is editorial in nature.
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