“Trees heal.”
—Susan Bauer-Wu, A Future We Can Love
A tree in Gatesville, Texas. I grew up in west Texas, where there are few trees, the southernmost part of the Great Plains. My mother, however, grew up in central Texas, where there are many beautiful live oak trees. On a visit to my grandmother, who lived in Gatesville, not far from Waco, I took a walk to Raby Park, where my mother often played as a child. I saw an old live oak, and went up and hugged it. It was a bit rough, but it was solid. I thanked it for sheltering my mother as a child and giving her shade from the blistering Texas sun.
A tree at Cottage Grove Avenue, Cedar Rapids. At the last condo my wife and I lived in, there was a very large tree, probably also an oak, that withstood the derecho of 2020. It had such stature that the sidewalk had to go AROUND it. On our walks to Brucemore, we would pass this tree, and my wife gave me permission to hug it, as if I had a girlfriend on the side! Again, it was rough but solid. When the city threatened to build a roundabout nearby, we were ready to strap ourselves to it, à la Julia Butterfly Hill, who once saved a redwood by refusing to come down from it.
A tree at Prairiewoods. Whenever I take a walk at Prairiewoods, it’s always to see Grandmother Oak, occasionally to hug her. She survived the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, both World Wars, and the derecho. She’s always there; she was there before me, and she will be there after I’m gone. Thank you, Prairiewoods, for honoring this tree.
While these trees may not have healed me, they have saved me.
—Charles Crawley, Prairiewoods board member
