Just A Tree? Or Bigger Than Even That?

I'm quite sure it was supposed to be a heartwarming story. Maybe, for some, it was.

A few days ago, Channel 12, the ABC affiliate in Milwaukee, ran a story about the fellow who decided to donate the 33-foot tree that completely dominated his front yard to the city, which of course needed a Christmas tree to display in what is now known as the Deer District. He had planted it way back when, a seedling about a foot high, he said.

Trees measure time and growth. They are unrelenting when they stand tall and majestic, as this one did for decades. They are reminders that nature will outlast us, will survive us.

Not when they're cut down, though. As this one had to apparently be, to satisfy the spirit of the season. Jolly? Is that right? Humans are, and can be very unrelenting, too. Get out the saws, baby. Low hanging fruit.

One month from now, where will it be? You know where: fed to machines, which will produce mountains of mulch. Whoopee.

It felt like a waste. What will be the value of this guy's property now? Won't it take a huge nose dive?

Not that it mattered much to him. He's 93. He lost his wife, dearly beloved, three years ago. "It's time," he said. I have no idea, but I'm guessing the city paid him off. Transactional, right? All good?

I'm sorry, but I object. That report saddened me. Even if that tree was donated out of good will, it shouldn't have been done. Yes, he had the right to do with his property what he wanted. The city shouldn't have approached him, though.

The City of Milwaukee didn't need that tree, that beautiful, long-lasting fir that's towered above us. It had seen its share of triumph and tragedy and endured storms galore. Kind of like the Natives once upon a time, it just got in the way and not nearly enough people considered its long-term value.

I suppose there's some kind of rule out there that demands that the tree must come from within the city or something, as an expression of urban pride. That would be a really stupid rule. I'm not a scrooge about Christmas. Such a display is better than none, and it's pretty tough to find an artificial tree that's 30 feet tall, much less store the damn thing.

But nobody's going to know where the tree came from, once it's been decorated with lights and displayed where people can easily see it. They'll be just as filled with whatever good feelings that this season can bring. What if, instead, it had come from somewhere else in Wisconsin, somewhere in which trees like this stand among hundreds, maybe thousands of others?

Such a tree could have been imported, albeit with some cost, from another county (Forest? Wood? Bad puns, I know. But far more likely to breed big pines.). Would that have bothered the budget curmudgeons all that much?

Wouldn't that be better than ruining a whole property, indeed a neighborhood (to which the tree belonged, too, in a way), because someone had to scratch an itch?

We claim to be oh, so caring about the environment we can't help ourselves to destroy. Really? What about this part of it? No, it isn't a whole hillside full of pines. No, it isn't smearing plastic along the bottom of oceans. No, it isn't a major river that''s drying up. But someone thought of it as a temporary palliative to an annual need to celebrate something that we know didn't come with much fanfare at all.

What the hell. It's just a tree.

Or is it even bigger than how tall it stands, for the few days it has left? Does it symbolize more, though not very comfortably?

Is that why no major network is picking up "A Charlie Brown Christmas" anymore, and it has been relegated to Apple TV+, for someone else to make a little money, show it briefly and tokenly to satisfy the soft-hearted of us, and then dispense with it? Hmmm?

Merry Christmas.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark