Sometimes when it feels like the world is falling down around you, it’s because it is.
That’s less of a metaphor than it might seem this time.
The splitting of a massive, probably 80-year-old, tree — followed by its several-ton limbs collapsing on my house — is a sound I won’t forget anytime soon, especially because I was sitting below it with my wife, son and dogs when it happened.
My Apple Watch thought I started exercising (ha). I was just startled witless.
We’re all fine. I mean, our insurance company likely isn’t thrilled and the tree is worse for the wear, but the rest of us are fine. Maybe even lucky.
The tree, Gaston — as we named it because it’s a brute who unapologetically takes up maybe a bit too much space — is assumed to be an old volunteer box elder.
I guess it’s the way of nature, but can you imagine being a little helicopter seed from another tree, twirling down and taking root wherever you damn well please? I can admire that confidence and perseverance. I will grow. Here. Watch me.
The tree has been home to many a critter, and a favorite taunting locale for one of the neighborhood squirrels. (You should hear the smack that little fluff ball talks to the dogs from on high. It’s savage.) It has been a provider of shade and a strong, high limb from which our kiddo’s swing hangs.
When we bought this house a couple of years ago, we sat in awe that we got to share space with such a gorgeous giant.
But our Giving Tree is getting tired and was no match for that recent wind storm.
The power company came out immediately and cut our lines before the partially downed tree could, so we were prepared to rough it and camp in our own house. But bless the 21st century, the kindest neighbors and their 100-foot extension cord, we could charge our phones enough to schedule an emergency arborist.
And in under 24 hours, thanks to the good folks at Rent-A-Monkey Tree Service, we had a 115-ton stick crane stationed in front of the house ready to remove our fallen friend from our (newly roofed, I’ll mention) house.
Our son, Harvey, had come down with some wicked cold, so with a sick child and no power, we watched the front window like it was a TV screen, as a human attached to the big hook at the end of the 140-foot arm was hoisted out of view above us.
The sawing sounds made my wife, Elenor, weep. It’s hard to lose a friend, especially one that was a home to so many other friends.
And while the whole experience was an unexpected major bummer, I can’t help but feel a lot of gratitude.
We had just barely moved some things around in our backyard so that couch was under our covered patio. Had we not been out there to hear the damage, who knows how long it would have been before we realized a 7,500-pound limb was taking a breather on our house after injury. Had it not been temperate, our time without power would have been much less tolerable. Had we not had friends who came to inspect the damage and provide quick (and life-saving?) insight, had we not had generous and helpful neighbors, had we not had good insurance, had we not found great partners in clean-up…
I keep counting our good fortunes.
It reminds me of Passover, when Jews acknowledge the gifts from above by saying, “Dayenu,” which means, “It would have been enough.” That word has been bouncing around in my head like a glorious pinball.
I don’t know how strong my Pollyanna abilities are these days, but they are hard at work this week, and I’m even grateful for that.
Hug your trees, friends.
(Marina Gomberg | The Salt Lake Tribune) A massive tree branch fell on the house of Salt Lake Tribune columnist Marina Gomberg and her family.
Marina Gomberg is a professional communicator, a practicing optimist and a lover of love. She lives in Salt Lake City with her wife, Elenor Gomberg, their son, Harvey, and their dogs, Mr. Noodle and Gorgonzola. You can reach Marina at mgomberg@sltrib.com.
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