My favorite tree

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Originally uploaded by Mike Taddeo

I had a favorite tree when I was a kid. We lived next to the Catholic Church parsonage and there were three giant, fruitless mulberry trees in the parsonage yard. The house was mostly vacant until a priest or some nuns would stay for a short time.

The tree closest to our house was the easiest to climb. Before I was big enough to pull myself into the tree, my brother and his friends would climb as high as they could and get up in the skinny branches. My mom used to babysit a brother and sister about my brother's age. The boys name, I think, was Bucky Puckett. One day Bucky climbed up so high in the tree he was afraid to make a descent. I think he started crying, but I can't remember I was only 4 or so. I'll have to ask my brother.

When I became older, I would climb the tree and read books. The branch system at the top of the trunk made into three seats for someone my size. I started a club in the tree with my friends, Eric and Erick. We would spraypaint on the branches who we had crushes on. We also tied a rope into the tree to make it easier to climb. I nailed a shoebox into a branch where I kept sticks that I had sharpened in case we were ever attacked and we needed sharp sticks.

When I became older, I spent less time in the tree. By the time I was in high school, I probably never set foot in the tree again. My freshman or sophomore year of high school, I was driving home for lunch. We were in the middle of a wind storm and the gusts were getting up pretty high. You really couldn't see anything because the dust clouded everything and in the distance looked like a giant wall. When I got home I saw that the tree had been ripped up by it's roots and tossed on its side.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I instantly felt I was in a dream-like state. Someone had died and I was at the disbelief level of coping. Maybe, there was so much dust in my eyes I really wasn't seeing what I was seeing. I ran into the safety of my house and peaked out the screen door to make sure it was true. And it was. Of the three giant, fruitless mulberries in a row, my favorite one, had been murdered. The other two were still holding on for dear life.

The landscape and the view to the east of my parent's house has never been the same.