Because It Was There

A few days ago, while my neighbors covered their eyes and waited for a crack and thud, I scaled the little tiny tree in my backyard for the sake of ripping ivy from the branches. The tree barely had the biomass to support my weight 15 feet up…but I have experience in trees. We worked it out.

We lived by a single tree climbing rule as kids – if you can’t get up by yourself, then you can’t climb it. When I was about 10, I finally was able to pull myself onto the 5-ish foot high bottom branch of the maple tree in the backyard on Murray Ave. Within days, it was the 2nd branch, itself strong but boring, then third branch (precarious at best), before arriving at the 4th branch. The 4th branch was stable, with seats for 2 – the second occupied by the precocious 6 year old Stephen, who might have broken the rule to get up the first branch, but was emboldened by his continuing sense of invincibility. You could go further, the 5th, 6th and 7th branches were stable enough, but somewhat inverted – they were not particularly safe. There was no passage beyond the 7th branch. I wonder if I could get further now. On the other main trunk of the tree you could get about 3 more levels up, to the three-prong, which looked something like Neptune’s trident.

From the three prong and the 4th branch Steve and I braved the wildest of winds. We knew better than to stay in the tree during thunderstorms (after all, you couldn’t make it past the 7th branch because that’s where lightning had severed a major portion of the tree 5 years earlier), but windy days were different. We lived for them. No matter how violently the wind howled, we climbed the tree, just to hang on for dear life.

We had our own little universe up in the old maple. There were different kinds of wind – dark winds, which were less violent gusts, and the mythic white winds, which only came about when the wind was so strong that it turned all the leaves around such that we saw their lighter undersides. Winds followed two main patterns, the Junior Circuit and the Senior Circuit, named after the American and National leagues respectively (I always thought those should be reverse, but I digress), depending on where in the neighborhood they blew through before they got to us.

There were other trees, but they weren’t the same. There was a pine tree at Grandma and Grandpa’s house – you could get many levels up that tree, but it was disgustingly sappy, uncomfortable, and, worst of all, impervious to the wind. Once we moved, we had two trees that you could get one level up on. We tried to sit in them too…but, as they say, you can never go home again. Tree climbing, for all intents and purposes, ended for us when I was 12.

Just because I don’t climb trees anymore doesn’t mean that I am not a tree climber at heart. Just because I can no longer run doesn’t change the fact that I’m a runner. We, humankind, are a collection of vestigial features. We collect skills only to watch them rot as we collect new skills and embrace new paradigms.

But I promise you that I will find an excuse to climb a tree again.

Addendum
There’s no way they still let little kids climb the ropes in gym class any more, right? I got stuck 15 feet up in the elementary school once, the whole class had to wait as I coaxed myself down. I guarantee they don’t let them do that anymore.

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