After muttering a few curses and looking around, we saw the reason for the near mini pile-up. With all lights flashing, a marked squad car had pulled out of the parking lot of a local construction company, followed closely by a very long covered semi, which in turn was followed by another semi, which was then followed by a stream of cars and trucks, all with their lights on. Ordinarily only parades and funerals get police escorts, and this looked like neither one of those. My attention was on the bored-looking cop as he passed us, so I did not at first notice the odd scribblings that covered every square millimeter of the first semi's length. My eyes traveled to the second semi, and the word "Tour" baffled me until John mumbled something about the White House tree. Anger at nearly getting into an accident turned into momentary awe, which turned into disbelief with the realization that the scribblings that covered the semi were all signatures of people who had "visited" this Millennium Tree in the last two weeks as it traveled all over the state.
Now, I can understand the love that people have for trees, especially big trees. There is a certain place near my cabin up north where the pines are so tall that it seems you can barely see the tops, and the pine needle carpet which shelters their roots so deep, that all sounds are muffled, as if anyone would dare break the reverence by making any sound at all. These trees inspire awe, and they inspire awe because they are aged sentinels in a world far removed from the exhaust and noise and absolute impatience of busy metropolitan cities. How vulgar, one would agree, if one of them should end up severed from its ties to the Earth, and wind up in one of the most impatient cities in this country. A true Millennium Tree should be one that has grown, and endured this century and has maintained it's beauty, grace and peacefulness. A true Millennium Tree should not be one that has been cut off at its roots and dragged cross country in a soot-spitting semi covered in ink by people who probably only came because it is the closest they will ever come to their 15 minutes of fame. A true Millennium Tree should not have to endure miles of artificial lights sparkling off of its branches instead of the stars, and it should only have as ornaments its own pine cones and the nests of the many birds, animals, and insects that have spent their entire lifetimes in only a moment's time of the tree. A true Millennium Tree should endure all seasons, and not be discarded after the fireworks and ceremony are over.
The anger into awe into disbelief turned into sadness because this "Millennium Tree" died before the Millennium had even come to a close, and I wondered if the President and his wife would thank even one of the people who scrawled their names on the diesel-powered greeting card in exchange of the sight for a beautiful living tree.
© Felinda 11-23-1999
News of the "Millennium Tree" may be found at the website: http://www.millenniumtree.org/