A Short Story By Keith C. Milne
I can still recall my first memory of a Blue Jay landing on one of my branches when I was a three foot sapling. That 75 years ago. That goes all the way back to 1948, not too long after WWII ended. They planted me, and a few of my now very close friends, near the fence along the north edge of the track at Northampton High School in western Massachusetts.
I have been very fortunate to have been able to grow here. For starters, the soil is downright amazing! Dark and rich, with lots of long, fat, healthy red worms tickling my feet, what a luxury! Plus, every year the field maintenance crew comes by after their final mowing at the end of the summer season, and gives the whole area around me a nice shot of nutrients.
Yep, I’ve had it good here, but I have my share of being tested by the world too. For example, even though they aren’t supposed to, quite a few people bring their dogs inside the fence area and walk the track with them. For reasons only they know for sure, most dog owners act as though all lawns and all trees are fair game for their pets to do their business on and, over the years, I’ve had to endure more than my share of being peed on by dogs and by people. Yep, unfortunately I’ve dogs and people, as well as deer and bears do their business under me, on top of regularly being dumped on by birds!
Oh, and did I mention having to endure deep scratching at my base by bears, being a (mostly happy) host to more families of birds than I can count, and humans leaving their garbage under me while leaving me to watch my little creature buddies get sick from eating things they shouldn’t. No big deal, really. Just venting.
It’s been interesting for sure. Standing here, like it or not, for the last 75 years. Doesn’t matter whether it’s snowing and 15 degrees outside with a 30 mph north wind coating every fiber and needle of my trunk and branches with icy crystals, or 106 everyday for almost 10 days straight with no rain because of an off-shore Bermuda High, I’ve endured both, and a lot more over all those years.
I’m not bragging, just saying. Everyone has their gifts for the world, and one of mine happens to be enduring beauty, despite environmental challenges. In other words, I was born to be wild and beautiful. So far, so good.
Speaking of hosting, I’ve hosted a lot more than some bird families. I’ve hosted at least two dozen young students who thought they were in love. Now I know why they call it ‘puppy love.’ It’s just as cute as it is funny the way they arrive in such a hurry, lunches in tow. Some just hang out and eat their lunches, some actually kiss, or even kiss for a little while then head back to class.
What I find most amusing is they way they all think they’re hidden from the world, which is somewhat true, but they are completely unaware that other facets of the universe can see and hear the whole thing. Who would think that the tree they were hiding in could watch and listen while they kissed one another.
One of the other Spruces once told me about something that happened at his base that just hearing about it, I think I blushed so hard that I turned a whole shade darker blue! At least for a little while.
We trees talk amongst ourselves quite a bit you know. About ten years ago, when I had just finished receiving my ‘Now Fully Mature’ plaque from the international tree recognition society, a couple of the other, younger trees were talking that day about what they had heard on the news coming from the smartphone of a young student while she ate her lunch near them. They said they saw a segment about the annual tree hunt to adorn Rockefeller Center in New York City, and for the tree that would become the National Christmas Tree in Washington D.C.!
What was that? When I learned the particulars, I was stunned. I had never heard of such a thing! How could that be? Chopping or cutting them down? Huge, beautiful trees that took a hundred years to grow to full maturity cut down just for a decoration for one holiday and then death, and mulch . . . really?! Oh my! I had no idea that these seemingly harmless and nice folks go out looking for the biggest, nicest tree, and then murder it. I wasn’t sure about any of it. Yikes! That was the scariest thing I’d ever heard! With no choice about it, I had to just stand there and let all of this information sink in. I needed to process the whole thing. I’d never thought about anyone living actually killing anything else that was alive, especially a tree! My gosh, the thought of it!
Since then, knowing that I was considered to be fully mature now, I found myself feeling more anxious over time around late November every year. I don’t know why, really. Over time, the scuttlebutt got out about this barbaric human practice, and the trees become quite the chatterbox network right after the kids go back to school. Turns out, most of the murdering has been in Colorado, Oregon, and even Arizona. That helped me feel a little better, but not too much.
So far, so good, but as the years mounted, I starting finding it harder to sleep from having more frequent bad dreams. One night, I woke up suddenly from a dream where a group of men in a large truck with a crane on it pulled up in front of me outside the fence next to my backside. The men got out of the truck and stood on the other side of the fence, just staring at me and talking amongst themselves. A couple of them took turns pointing at something on me, then the two of them took turns nodding, and then both cracked up laughing?! They walked around the fence and came over and then paraded around me, their eyes lit up like candles.
I could feel their excitement, although I had no idea what that really was, or how I could feel it too, but I could. This was a dream right? I’m pretty sure it was and then it got weird and ugly and I woke me up.
Phew! No worries. Yes, trees like me get harvested every year for the so-called ‘honor of’ adorning Rockefeller Center in New York City, or in front of the White House as the National Christmas Tree. While that may indeed be an honor, and I can kind of see that, but from a fully alive and healthy perspective, it’s absurd that anyone would cut me, or any tree like me, or as mature as me, just to essentially amuse people for a very short period of time. How about the fact that, even though you take me almost completely for granted 99% of the time, I am here for your amusement, visual delight, and olfactory satisfaction while I’m standing here alive. I shouldn’t have to be ‘harvested,’ and then taken somewhere far away and blinged-out to the hilt from three tons of lights and ornaments.
Well, thank goodness that there is no record of any trees like myself being harvested from high school recreation areas, living on the school grounds. Normally, they take us from the mountains and they always have, so what am I worried about? It was absurd! I already knew where trees for those occasions come from, but for some reason I kept reminding myself of that. Eventually, I got past it well enough, and moved it into the background of my mind so that I could finally resume my former, good sleep habits.
As the years rolled on, I got to the point where I did not hear it when the other trees would share who the unlucky tree of the season was, and where the tree had been growing before being sacrificed. One or more of the trees in my clan would always become privy to this information from a student sitting nearby streaming news on their device. Other times a student would just sit to eat lunch and lay their phones down so they could free up both hands while eating, and the nearest tree is often able to read enough of the article to ascertain the basic information for sharing with the rest of the clan. I no longer cared because I finally knew that I wasn’t in danger. I never was! It’s nice to finally be able to relax around this issue! It caused me untold anxiety for at least three or four decades!
In recent years, some of the trees have begun betting on who would be the one to get the information and be in a position to share that with the other trees first. I opted out. No way. Not for me. I’d really rather forget the whole affair, but betting would only serve to keep it in the forefront and I’m certain that I’d be right back to having sleepless nights again, so I said thanks, but no thanks.
Then they started slicing the information up in an even more granular way, betting on such things as which state the tree would come from, the height, the spread of the branches in feet, the age, and other statistical data. How about placing bets on which kid is going to win the 100 yard dash in the races held right here on this field, or which Frisbee football team is going to win this time? Anything but the morbid details around the demise of a fellow tree from some other state!
Every Christmas season, once the tree issue is decided, things finally quiet down in a big way. No kids sitting around mindlessly breaking my lower branches while they chat with one another. Very few creatures coming around sniffing about, marking, or hiding from a predator. Lots of brisk, north winds that rustle through my branches and needles, keeping my constant shedding’s scoured out. And my favorite thing: the sonic silence that descends around us is in stunning contrast to the normally noisy, semi-chaotic hustle-bustle of an in-session school day. It’s my personal favorite time of year.
The Blue Spruce Boys 2023
They have said that once I get to 60ish, that I’m done and that it’s all downhill from here. I beg to differ! I’m 75 and still feel strong and healthy as hell, and I’ve already exceeded my average maximum height of 40 ft., I am proud to say that, somehow, I’ve achieved 62 ft., or have grown about 10 inches per year consistently, no matter the weather. Like I just said, I’m still healthy. I guess I’m at the upper end of the highs and lows that make up that average, or maybe it was the annual nutrients that I’ve gotten almost since day one of being planted here. I am one heck of a stunning specimen of a Blue Spruce if I do say so myself.
This last winter was another mild one. Me and the other Spruces have concluded that the weather we are experiencing here in Massachusetts is more and more like the mid-Atlantic every year. Less frequent snow events, and when it does snow, it’s the heavy, wet snow that melts within a couple of days The summer months have also become more mid-Atlantic with a lot more humid, rainy summers than in prior decades. We’re worried about it.
Five years ago, we all had a pretty serious scare: the house directly across the street from us caught fire. School was out for summer break, and the neighborhood was quiet with lots of people out of town on vacation, so it went unreported just long enough that when the fire department finally arrived, the upstairs bedrooms had already collapsed onto the first floor, and the entire structure was ablaze.
The wind was out of the west that day, 15-25 mph, gusting to 30 mph, and the heat from that fire was so intense that I thought I was going to spontaneously combust. It singed a huge portion of my west facing side. It took me and the other Spruce’s almost another decade to repair the damage done by that fire. At the height, I thought I was going to see my life flash before my eyes because for more than one instant, I felt like that was my day to die!
So many cherished memories. Odd to me how, over time, given enough time, even the scariest moments in one’s life can become a ‘cherished’ memory. Reminiscing can buffer the intensity of the moment or experience while they notice their own longevity and take stock of their life experiences, both the good and the bad.
It’s late August and school will be back in session in 5 days. We had lots of older people walking by and using the track inside the fence off and on all summer. We always had some older people, but we all noticed how many there were this year. More of them are exercising and now living longer. It’s wonderful!
I watched an older couple on the outside of the fence stroll by with their big, hairy Golden Retriever who looked over at me with a big smile on his face. I smiled back, but I don’t think he noticed. Later, one of the other Spruces let me know that the dog may not have actually been smiling at me. He said that Golden Retrievers are known for having that characteristic, ‘permanent smile’ on their faces. Despite that, they are very friendly dogs. Huh. I can’t believe I hadn’t learned that somehow already! At my age, I should be the one educating the younger Spruce’s about such facts. Oh well. Better now than never. After thinking about that for a bit, I felt sleepy, so I let myself doze off in the warm late afternoon sunlight.
I awoke suddenly. I stood extra still trying to figure out what was wrong. I knew something was amiss. I looked down just in time to see a big, dark haired burly guy with a beard come around from my backside. He had tacked one end of a tape measure to my trunk and then walked around me to measure my girth. What?! Now I was worried all over again. In all my years I had never had anyone measure me, not once. Something was up, and I didn’t think it was anything good.
Before leaving, he tacked a piece of paper on me, then got back in his truck and drove away.
A few days later, school was back in session. On Tuesday that first week in September, I had my first couple of lunch time visitors. Two young girls. They carried their lunches with them and were quietly weaving through our stand. Suddenly, I heard the little blond girl let out a little screech and start jumping up and down, screaming something to her friend over and over. Instead of staying and eating their lunches, the little blond girl was so excited about something that she didn’t want to stay. She wanted to go and tell her other friends about her news.
Once they left, the other Spruces had heard enough bits and pieces of the little girl’s screaming rant, that we were all able to collectively ascertain that my worst nightmare might be realized. I was being considered for either the Rockefeller Plaza location or the National Tree designation for the White House!!
Blue Spruce Clan aka ‘The Blue Spruce Boys.–The Chosen National Christmas Tree
Wow! NO! NO! NO! NOT ME, NO WAY! The other Spruces tried to console me, and they kept reminding me that it wasn’t a sure thing whatsoever. I was merely in the running for the so-called honor of being murdered and then put on display in a heavily and extremely public place, but it wasn’t necessarily a sure thing at all. They pointed out that I was up against some amazing specimens from all over the country, and that I might still live to see another decade. They also pointed out to me that, in the end, even if I was chosen, given that someday I will know my demise anyway, wouldn’t it KIND OF be an honor to be displayed in one of those two very famous places, while allowing everyone to see my magnificence at my peak, rather than see me when I’m falling apart? They had a valid point, but I didn’t want to go. Especially when I still felt so good and so healthy.
That night I barely slept at all. I was too busy thinking about my own, perhaps, near demise. I kept moving my branches a little here and there, trying to get into a comfortable enough position to finally drift off, but it was intermittent at best. I finally gave up when the first light crept into the night sky. I came to the conclusion that I was going to get with the program and learn to become okay with the possibility of being cut down and hauled away.
Another month went by, and then a small group of men from the local arborist society came by and took lots of pictures of me. I think that day I knew my demise was inevitable, and I was right. A week later another crew came that I had never seen before and they took down a large section of the cyclone fencing bordering one side of our clan.
Two days later the Mayor and Town Councilors from Rockville, MA gathered at my base, along with half the town’s people, and all the reporters from the local newspapers and television news channels to celebrate my demise. I had to just stand tall, as usual, while they all went on for nearly an hour and a half about Mother Earth, my majestic appearance, how many pounds of greenhouse gases that I offset by my respiration, and what an honor it was to have had ‘their tree’ chosen to be on display at the White House as the National Christmas Tree.
Yep, just like that, the humans have made the decision, and now I had to die a slow, painful death. What they call honor, I consider disgraceful and humiliating. I didn’t want to be covered up with lights and ornaments to the point of being unrecognizable.
If you only need a tree shape, why not just make an artificial tree shaped structure that you could put into place every Christmas at both of those locations. By the time you humans are done with all the tree bling, you’ll never know that ‘the tree’ is actually steel and wire assembled and connected into a huge tree shape, not an actual, real, Blue Spruce. That way, all future living trees everywhere will be free to live out their lives for as long as they can possibly muster, just like you humans.
I’m so frustrated that I can’t convey this to them!
At the end of November, they came. Six men with several different sized chain saws and some axes and shovels. The had a crane and a tractor trailer towing a long flatbed trailer. I knew that was my bed for a short while. I didn’t know what to expect. I no longer felt angry, only a little sad. I felt especially bad about the fact that the other Spruces were going to have to watch this, knowing that they, too, someday might suffer the same fate.
We all said our good byes last night under the shroud of darkness so that we could all cry without directly being able to see one another. It’s stupid, but I could tell that it helped most of the Spruces to really let it all out. We all took turns crying so hard while reminiscing and telling each other how much we all meant to one another that I don’t know how the nearby neighbors slept. It was so cathartic and meaningful to me to be able to have all of us share our feelings with each other. In the end I felt at peace and decided to just go with it and have an open mind and heart and see what the universe had in store for me next.
When the foremen fired up the biggest chain saw they had brought, I felt myself close my eyes tightly right before I was cut. It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would. The noise was deafening and I wanted to cough several times. Little by little, I could feel myself going numb, and felt a little cold. I knew that my life force was panicking and my autonomic nervous system was rapidly firing instructions to all my cells to reserve what energy and moisture they had, then I blacked out.
When I woke up, I was looking up at a partly cloudy sky from a perspective I had only tried to imagine in the past. I was surprised that I was awake and still able to think. I couldn’t really feel anything anymore though. My mind was completely alert, but my body felt completely numbed, like someone or something had used a giant syringe and shot me full of Novocaine. I was grateful for the lack of pain. I felt sad knowing that, indeed, I was lying flat on my back on a flat trailer being hauled to Washington D.C. of all places to be decorated and celebrated as the ‘National Christmas Tree!’ How about that?!
As we drove seemingly forever, the temperature got a lot warmer and felt downright stuffy to me. Gosh, first the news, then being cut down, and now having to endure stuffy, polluted air while I die a slow death. THANKS!
Everything in the mid-Atlantic looked different. The streets, the houses, the people. Interesting that I’m still seeing and learning new things even though I’m now a little more than half dead.
I have to say, despite the extra weight, despite the heat, I kind of like being all decorated up like this! Wow! I look good, if I do say so myself! These folks pull out all the stops with decorations and bling. I now actually do feel honored.
Once I was all dressed up in President’s Park, the ceremony they had for me was the biggest, grandest event of my entire life. To be honored by the President of the United States and the First Lady, is truly a once in a lifetime experience and one that I will never forget. Everything about me was revealed: my age, my size, where I spent my time growing, all became known, and recognized as amazing, and I was honored by thousands of people and I felt amazing. In my heart, I felt deeply glad to have been chosen for this one last role as my life came to a close.
President Joseph R. Biden and First Lady Jill Biden Giving a Speech at the National Christmas Tree Ceremony December 2, 2023 I look pretty spiffy, right?!
Seeing all the smiling faces for weeks on end, day and night, brought me more joy than I thought possible. It was like a condensed replay of all the students and other people who had visited me, sat under me, made their peace and prayed under me for the last 75 years all rolled into a month, providing me a daily reminder of the value I provided for the Earth, and for all my visitors, both human and animal.
I am beyond grateful for having had the life I did. 75 years is a long time and I’m honored that I was able to do a lot of good while alive. Apparently, during my life I produced 1216 tons of Oxygen (a gas), enough to allow 1,313,007 people to breath for an entire day. I also managed to store 456 tons of carbon, the equivalent of what would be emitted by a commercial plane traveling 2856 miles. I respired 8916 gallons of water through evaporation, which in turn has the cooling effect of of 5 air conditioners working for 1500 hours! Not bad for one tree, eh?! Now, for my final act, I’m going to become mulch which will be spread around some of the gardens at the Capitol, protecting the current trees and shrubs from the harsh elements that are endlessly trying to oxidize or dry us out.
So long. Thanks for listening to my tale. I will miss being alive, but maybe I’ll come back next time as a Giant Sequoia or Coastal Redwood.
Live your life well because it does far more good than you will ever realize.
Author Keith C. Milne taking a digital photo of the tree and group of trees that inspired this story 12-15-2023
