May 25th, 2005
I’m a Lumberjack and I’m Ok
If a tree falls in the Witchgers’ yard, because they’re cutting it down with chainsaws, does it make a sound?
Yes. Yes it does.
Here’s how I know: Mom and Dad have graciously offered their house as the location for Steph and I’s rehearsal dinner next year. Awfully nice of them. “Of course, we’ll need a completely new deck before then,” Mom quickly added, as her eyes wandered out to the old one.
Mom and Dad…they’re crafty…for old folks.
So our big “family project” for the summer is reconstructing their deck. Step one was to cut down the trees that were in the way. Mainly, the 175-foot tall poplar that stands just a few feet from the existing deck (and the house). Of course the 100-foot white oak will have to come down too, since the poplar won’t fall to the ground with it in the way.
I’m sure most people would hire an experienced, fully-bonded service to come in and do this. Dad didn’t. He claims to have called some places. But every quote was just a little more than he wanted to spend…. Honestly, I think they could have offered to do it for free and it would have been too steep for him. I think he wanted — no, needed — to do this himself.
After all, we do come from Michigan, a state that revolves around tree-chopping, a state so deeply immersed in the culture, history, and folklore of lumberjacks that I was actually taught that Paul Bunyan was the first president. (Boy, is that wrong. The first president was, of course, General Robert E. Lee. Thank God the North Carolina school system set me straight.) I can still recall learning about lumberjacks in grade school. The units lasted for months. To be big and hairy and walk around all day, swinging an ax…by the end of the year every boy in class (and possibly some of the girls) wanted to be like that.
And I only lived in Michigan until the second grade. Dad was exposed to this for 38 years.
So last Saturday Dad, Kevin and I dawned our sacred flannel shirts and — with help from an insane neighbor named Glen, who assured us her knew what he was doing — we ran guide wires all up in the trees and over to other trees and in all directions, ’til it looked Spiderman had tried to build a web in our backyard…after a night of heavy drinking. Then Glen and Dad — who was looking more and more worried that his house was going to be demolished — started up their chainsaws and cut a big “V” in the trunk to make the tree lean away from the house. Kevin and I were on the other end, right where the tree was supposed to fall, ratcheting these come-alongs that tightened the guide lines and pulled the giant tree in our direction…. “You’re ready to run out of the way, right?” we repeatedly asked one another in nervous voices. Then came the cracking, like gunshots. And in a few seconds the tree was falling and we were all diving for cover.
I’ve never experienced something that big or heavy falling before. There was an actual “whirrrrrr” as it cut through the air. The crash shook the ground.
And, thanks largely to dumb luck, things came down exactly where they were supposed to, both times… The poplar missed the sickly pear tree that Kate had planted years ago by two whole feet.
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