This past Friday, within the chilly, sun-streaked, nine o’clock morn, I discovered our public works department’s actual rationale for having recently dropped off and stacked up road barricades within my neighborhood.

True, up to that very moment, my threefold speculation had included our subdivision devolving into an illegal, inhumane, ICE detention / deportation hub? OR, possibly we’d be paving the way for some sorta Oktoberfest parade? OR, maybe, we’d wind up fast tracking legions of intrepid competitive marathoners, who’d soon be taking to the streets to test / assert their physical prowess / endurance?

However, just as I was savoring my oatmeal breakfast’s final, nourishing mouthful, I also began getting an earful; the telltale roar of incoming heavy vehicular traffic; the arrival of the tree surgeon brigade coming to tend to their ailing patient; namely an elderly oak of this elderly man’s acquaintance (ever since my own bygone age could be reported in single digits).

And yes, in the grand scheme, we are all fast friends; according to a scientist hero of untold millions…

“We humans look rather different from a tree. Without a doubt we perceive the world differently than a tree does. But down deep, at the molecular heart of life, the trees and we are essentially identical.” ― Carl Sagan, Cosmos

Historically speaking, shortly after the lighting of my birthday cake’s seventh candle, my folks had transferred our home base flag to a brand new hood, where we’d soon be joined by nine other pioneering families.

But, as for the events of two days ago, I had begun wondering if the tree doctors’ task was to prune or pull the plug? Sadly, their speed and scheme had told me all I had never wanted to know. In the end, sixty years worth of ever intensifying climate change and it’s consequent freaky wind / ice storm / drought damage; all coupled with untold insectoid infiltration / infestation, had all conspired to take their toll.

Alas… long sigh… a scant five hours later, all that remained of this bygone mighty Oak, was the stump and its approximately one hundred forty year old, deep roots network. The best efforts of a slew of past tree surgeons could only buy a short time for their patient. In the process, the trade off had also involved the loss of natural, graceful beauty, too. Granted, full disclosure, I too, have not aged all that well, either; all of which also jibes well with Sagan’s simile.

Another sigh… It was just yesterday, late afternoon, when I crossed the street to stand, graveside to pay my much closer curbside respects. I even made a souvenir out of my retrieved, approximately 2½ centimeter, cube-like wood chip.

Momentarily, I did reflect, too, on our cosmic engineer’s symbiosis; that flora / fauna, oxygen / carbon dioxide tradeoff. After all, for untold eons, we’ve all survived; courtesy of each other’s “waste gasses”.

Even so, shaken, now, is my bygone belief that, not unlike each millennial California Red Wood, this mighty Oak could’ve / should’ve also had a potentially limitless lifespan; thereby living on and on and on, long after my own passing thru Earth’s turnstiles; outward bound into oblivion.

One more parting shot certainty, too, I’ve now come to the stunning, sobering, somber realization that my ol’ neighborhood, ever since the summer of 1961, shall never be the same.

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Be kind to humankind! Keep in mind that whether vaxxed or unvaxxed, we can still shed and spread the batcrap crazy contagious coronavirus. If we ever hope to end this damned pandemic, once and for all, we’ll need to stay publicly and properly masked.

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