Money Doesn't Fall With Trees
While driving in the area of our neighborhood megachurch this week, I made a startling discovery.
Behind the wall of massive shade megatrees that have lined the megaparking lot for the last few decades, there is an impressive, imposing megastructure. But on this particular day, the megastructure was particularly megasparkly. The megasparkliness caused me to take notice of something. Or, rather, I noticed the absence of something.
NO MORE MEGATREES!
I had an unobstructed, megaview of the megachurch.
Strangely, the loss of the megatrees hit me harder than the news of the recent loss of the church's megapastor.
First, they were big shade trees, filtering the light radiating from the shiny white walls of the church building. Now everything in the area sort of reflects the building. It's like driving through a tanning bed. I always hate to see good trees go, especially without obvious reason, like, Hurricane Wilma.
Second, they were sentimental trees. I'd stood under those trees for years, saying goodbye in the school parking lot, waiting to be picked up, running laps around the property for PE. With the trees went dozens of reminders of time spent in the shadow of that megasteeple.
It was my stroll down memory lane that helped me to produce a possible motive for the tree murders. I ruled out storm safety, since they have stood strong for however-many-years. I ruled out the need for more parking spots. I considered "tree roots damaging asphalt." I was stuck between "having an abundance of cash and looking for a project," and "gross little red berries that drop from the branches by the pint." I landed on gross little red berries.
And here is where the downward spiral of (self) righteous anger began. IF* I am correct, then a few assumptions must be made about the course of events:
1) Church received numerous complaints of damage to vehicles or shoes by gross little red berries.
2) Church decided to spend money to remove delightful shade trees to make drivers of expensive cars and shoes affected by berries feel more comfortable coming to church.
3) Having two stumps ground at my home, 3 years ago, cost about $300. Having one tree removed was a quote of about $1000. Multiply, extrapolate, etc., etc., we are talking about thousands of dollars.
4) Expensive car drivers are now meeting for expensive coffee, discussing how happy they are that the red berries are no longer tormenting their existence. The newspaper on the table collecting the coffee ring advertises a concert to benefit this crisis. In the background, this story runs on TV.
*If I am wrong and the trees were actually responsible for poisoning an 8 block radius with harmful emissions or something, or the church needed to hack them to pieces to sell the firewood to raise money for Compassion children, or they needed the space to build little itty bitty houses for widows and orphans, then please accept my deepest apologies for my conjecturing.
Behind the wall of massive shade megatrees that have lined the megaparking lot for the last few decades, there is an impressive, imposing megastructure. But on this particular day, the megastructure was particularly megasparkly. The megasparkliness caused me to take notice of something. Or, rather, I noticed the absence of something.
NO MORE MEGATREES!
I had an unobstructed, megaview of the megachurch.
Strangely, the loss of the megatrees hit me harder than the news of the recent loss of the church's megapastor.
First, they were big shade trees, filtering the light radiating from the shiny white walls of the church building. Now everything in the area sort of reflects the building. It's like driving through a tanning bed. I always hate to see good trees go, especially without obvious reason, like, Hurricane Wilma.
Second, they were sentimental trees. I'd stood under those trees for years, saying goodbye in the school parking lot, waiting to be picked up, running laps around the property for PE. With the trees went dozens of reminders of time spent in the shadow of that megasteeple.
It was my stroll down memory lane that helped me to produce a possible motive for the tree murders. I ruled out storm safety, since they have stood strong for however-many-years. I ruled out the need for more parking spots. I considered "tree roots damaging asphalt." I was stuck between "having an abundance of cash and looking for a project," and "gross little red berries that drop from the branches by the pint." I landed on gross little red berries.
And here is where the downward spiral of (self) righteous anger began. IF* I am correct, then a few assumptions must be made about the course of events:
1) Church received numerous complaints of damage to vehicles or shoes by gross little red berries.
2) Church decided to spend money to remove delightful shade trees to make drivers of expensive cars and shoes affected by berries feel more comfortable coming to church.
3) Having two stumps ground at my home, 3 years ago, cost about $300. Having one tree removed was a quote of about $1000. Multiply, extrapolate, etc., etc., we are talking about thousands of dollars.
4) Expensive car drivers are now meeting for expensive coffee, discussing how happy they are that the red berries are no longer tormenting their existence. The newspaper on the table collecting the coffee ring advertises a concert to benefit this crisis. In the background, this story runs on TV.
*If I am wrong and the trees were actually responsible for poisoning an 8 block radius with harmful emissions or something, or the church needed to hack them to pieces to sell the firewood to raise money for Compassion children, or they needed the space to build little itty bitty houses for widows and orphans, then please accept my deepest apologies for my conjecturing.
Comments
Mister! he said with a sawdusty sneeze,
I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees.
I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues,
And I'm asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs--
He was very upset as he shouted and puffed--
What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?