“None of us knows what might happen even the next minute, yet still we go forward.
Because we trust. Because we have Faith.” ~ Paulo Coelho
another tree gone
I’ve passed by this tree countless times over the years, and each year it looked a little more ragged than the last. They finally cut it down today. I hate to see it go. Such vital, majestic things, trees, even when they’re worn out. I never see a chainsawed tree that I don’t think of my neighbor, Chainsaw Charlie.
Seven years ago today I moved next door to Chainsaw Charlie (not his real name). Little did I know he had a thing for chainsaws. Day and night he chainsawed. Not his trees, of course. He has an arborist friend that delivers felled trees to him. They’re so big they clog up his driveway, sometimes for a year or more. His garage is packed floor to ceiling with chopped wood he has chainsawed. (It’s how he heats his house.) He puts the overflow on the front porch. That’s sexy. <insert sarcasm> I had a couple of talks with him about running his chainsaw in the early mornings, but they didn’t sink in. I called the city about a noise ordinance. That was a waste of time. One gorgeous Saturday morning, with his chainsaw splitting the air like, well, like a chainsaw on a Saturday morning, I’d had enough. I marched over to his driveway, no bra, bed head, bad breath, and proceeded to fillet him… with kindness. He took one look at me and actually rolled his eyes. He thought I was going to be nasty. Instead, I explained that Saturday mornings are my time with God, and that a chainsaw ripping through my meditation isn’t exactly the stuff of heaven. Husqvarna Heaven, maybe, but not my heaven. And perhaps he would consider whether he would appreciate something similar during his moments of prayerful thought. He had no retort. He looked stunned actually. Heck, I was stunned! I don’t think I’ve ever been so composed while boiling inside.
That talk did a lot for our relationship. We actually talk now, and laugh, and act neighborly the way neighbors ought to act. He chainsaws less than he used to, but when he does, he’s mindful of the hour. No more 8am Saturday morning chainsaws in this neighborhood. The truth is that living next to him caused me to let go of what I think a neighbor should be, and accept them for who they are, chainsaws and all. I wouldn’t miss the mess of a yard he’s got, but I would actually miss his kookie ways and kind heart. He was a blessing in disguise.
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