When I was growing up, certain trees had their own personalities, in some cases their own names.
The Climbing Tree was a towering sweet gum at the edge of the woods. Its bottom branch was just low enough we could grab it and swing up. From there on up, the limbs were so well spaced you could climb to the tippy-top, where the air was thick with the perfume of green sweet gum.
The Dead Man’s Tree was actually nothing but a standing dead tree, but Dead Man’s Tree sounds so much more exciting, don’t you think?
The Leaning Tree was a fallen tree that had caught on something, making a perfect incline to walk up.
In one tall tree with sprawling branches, the Big Boys had built a fabulous treehouse of plywood, with multiple rooms and stories. We rarely dared to go up in it, though, because they let it be known they would kill any Little Kids they caught in it.
There was the tree where a python swung down and bit me on the neck. Well, I never actually saw it, but something did sting (or bite) me, and one of the Big Boys said a snake probably swung down — he’d seen it happen on TV.
And then there was the Initial Tree.
Smoking and cussing
This huge tree with thick, spreading limbs got its name for the obvious reason that kids carved their initials into its trunk. (That was back when boys carried pocket knives.)
It was there that Eddie Chalk, Johnny Junior and I would kindle a fire on crisp fall evenings.
We found an old washing machine lid in the leaves nearby and placed it over our fire pit. When we got ready to go home, we extinguished the fire in a manner best suited to little boys, then closed the lid.
Occasionally we’d light the end of a dry hollow grapevine and puff on it. It had a fine flavor but was hot on the tongue.
Then one day Eddie, who was a couple of years older than Johnny and me, started bringing pilfered cigarettes. Johnny and I became confirmed smokers, though I couldn’t inhale — it made me cough too much.
We would gather at the Initial Tree to smoke and cuss. But one day at home I let a four-letter word slip in front of my big brother Robert. I begged him not to tell our parents if I would turn myself in.
I confessed to Mom — who was not as shocked as I’d feared. She even let me finish my last few cigarettes before going cold turkey.
Log cabin Builders
A friend and I built a log house in the woods near the Dead Man’s Tree. We dragged up limbs and logs, stacked them crisscross and chinked them with dry leaves.
We started with one room, but seeing how easy it was, we added a couple of smaller ones.
We roofed the structure with branches and heaped leaves on top. We piled them so thick I felt sure they could keep out the rain.
But one day I took shelter in a downpour and discovered the leaves not only didn’t stop the rain, they didn’t even slow it down.
One sad day my friend and I found our cabin torn down — completely disassembled and scattered.
Who could have done such a dastardly deed?
I heard through the grapevine that a younger kid named Eddie did it. I knew Eddie looked up to me, so at first I didn’t believe it.
But when I went to his house and confronted him, he confessed to the crime — said he didn’t know it was ours.
I could have thrashed him, but I thought it over and forgave him.
