The Learning Tree

           The Learning Tree

                       By

            Brian K. Williams

         “Come here, Brian Keith!” exclaimed Granny. “I want to show you something!”

“O.K., Granny!” I replied. I immediately jumped up from my toy farm animals and high-tailed it to see what Granny wanted to show me. I found her standing just inside the back screen door. As she softly but assuredly reached out for my hand, I knew that I was going to learn something new, or that I had not learned something that I should have. Even the times when that familiar hand reaching out to me was to discipline, I always felt a strong sense of security. To a five year old boy, grandmothers are great, but grannies are simply awesome! And my Granny was just that! If it weren’t for the Bible, you could have easily convinced me that she invented love. Yes, at Granny’s house, even a five year old boy knew what the Bible was, and more importantly, who it was about. Granny made sure of that.

           Granny was genuine. My Great-Grandma and Grandpa brought Granny and her three brothers and three sisters to Oklahoma in a covered wagon in the mid 1920’s. She was next to being the youngest of the family. I believe she carried a part of that youthfulness with her most all of her life. She grew up in a family where all had their work cut out for them so the family could survive. To this day, I don’t recall ever meeting a woman that could and would work as hard as she did. She could hold her own working alongside any man, and believe it or not, could probably whip most of them. She was never a petite sized lady. When she hugged you, you were hugged! But that was just one of her special qualities.

           She became a mother at an average age, and from oldest to youngest had no less than five children. She had the three girls, the youngest of which was my mother, then came my two uncles. Ah, the Williams boys…one weighed twelve pounds and ten ounces, while the other weighed ten pounds and twelve ounces. A Maybelline cover girl would have no doubt folded under that kind of pressure. When my mother was about eight years old, Granny was forced to be mama and papa. My Grandpa suffered a fatal heart attack, not being able to leave Granny too much to rely on except her Bible and a lot of determination. It is amazing how far that can carry you.

           Thirteen years later, here I was. To Granny, I was her kid. My mother birthed me, but you couldn’t have told the self proclaimed “Old, Old Woman” any different. From letting me drive the car down the old highway at the age of nine years to playing football with me at about the same age. That’s right; Granny could drill you with the pigskin. She could also punt better than any kid in my neighborhood, including me. I guess it was hereditary, because I still hold all the punting records at my high school. But then, there were many things you could inherit from her and come out a winner.

           As we walked hand-in-hand toward the backyard, I noticed something for the very first time. I saw a small tree that we were walking towards. In contrast to the other trees, this one looked tiny. All the others were mammoth-sized Oak trees and Elm trees whose limbs and branches, being full with leaves, looked like long, huge arms that always seemed to be moving away from the wind, but then always reaching back with those arms opened wide to give it a hug. I always liked watching those big trees hugging the brisk summer air, as it reminded me of the way Granny liked to hug me. Her arms endlessly seemed to be open wide, as I joyfully conceded to the notion of getting all the hugs from her that I could.

           As we stepped directly in front of the seemingly tiny tree, I now realized that it was bigger than I. But still, it wasn’t as big as the other trees.

           “Brian,” she began, “this is a plum tree.” She spoke in the tone of voice that undoubtedly warned you to pay very close attention. You know the little voice that warns you when you’re about to step in something you don’t want to be in? Well, that’s Granny’s voice! Except her audibility was ever-present. But as she spoke, I couldn’t help but notice the flower blossoms that grew from the tiny branches. They were so beautiful! They had such attractiveness about them. They didn’t possess the gargantuan size of the Oak and Elm trees, yet the small, but unique tree captured my attention. But, of course, I was sure that I had heard every important word that Granny had spoken. I now knew that this tree was a plum tree and I was not to pick anything from it. I never recalled having heard the repercussions that would take place if one were to have slipped in memory. “Well,” I thought, “I just won’t pick on the little tree.”

           So, as usual, she gave me a hug and sent me back on my way to continue giving imaginary life to the small plastic farm animals that I had earlier been playing with. With no brothers or sisters, my imagination became my universal playground.

            Now, if Granny had given you instructions and you didn’t pay attention…well, let’s just say that in all probability you had made wiser choices in life. The point being that as with all creation, there has always been balance. Light and dark, up and down, far and near, good and evil, and of course, the list is endless. The balance with Granny was that the only thing that could match her love was her wrath. And Granny had an enormous amount of love in that heart of hers! She simply could not have raised those five children as a widow during the Depression years without nerves of steel, boundless love, and more faith than the other two put together. And, she did.

           The swiftness of summer had skipped over the calendar, whereby making a large portion of this particular season become yet another page in my life’s memory book. By this time, nature had miraculously transformed the tree into something special.

           My two playmates, Harold Ray and Marlene, and I played contentedly in the front yard. However, as fate would deal it’s cards, I suddenly found myself standing once again directly in front of the tiny tree. It seemed so different! But that’s one of the amazing things about creation. It was the same tree, only it had become a new creature! There it was, standing very proudly in all of its glory! Sure, the other trees towered above everything else, but now the tiny tree had brought forth its gift to the world. This tree had my full attention, casting aside my admiration for the bigger trees. It had miraculously transformed the beautiful flower blossoms into bright red, mouth watering, bite-sized fruit hanging from its branches! This tiny, but wonderful tree was, in its own unique way, just as proud and ever-present as the giant Oak and Elm trees were. There beside this beautiful tree, in its entire splendor, stood three overly curious children.

           “Gee, what are those berries?” asked Marlene.

           “Ah, cherries I betcha!” exclaimed Harold Ray.

           “Nah, they’re plums.” I replied. “Haven’tcha ever saw a little plum?”

           “Nuh uh,” retorted Harold Ray. “I bet they don’t taste like plums!”

           Even for a five year old, there are just some things you can’t have thrown at you without taking firm, corrective countermeasures. This was one of those things.

           “Yeah they do! I’ll show you!” I had made up my mind! I was going to prove that those little berries were actually plums! Sure enough, one by one, all the plums that we could reach had become forbidden fruit, stolen without remorse. No longer did the tree play host to the banner of nature’s gift that it had so eloquently displayed. Most all of them had been bright and red, but the sparse remains were green. Yes, the all too familiar “unripe green”. You know, that kind of green that tastes so bitter it makes all your teeth wrap around the tip of your tongue! We couldn’t eat the green ones, so we had to strategically think of a place that was safe to put them! Where else but the cellar! I was sure no one would ever find the forbidden green fruit in there. I had now successfully maintained my credibility, proved my knowledge of fruit trees to my friends, enjoyed a sweet snack, and displaced the evidence of my crime.

           While Granny had taught me that there was no distance in prayer, I failed to realize that there was only about a distance of sixty feet from the backdoor of the house to the cellar door. To a five year old, sixty feet can sometimes manifest a major disappearance. In parallel, some five year olds think Mickey Mouse is nothing more than a six-foot rat! It depends not only on the imagination itself, but more so the child that brings that imagination to life.

           The cellar was old, but still fully able to maintain its purpose of existence. The door displayed a lot of days gone past. When it was open, it was just a cellar door. But when it was closed, it became a shy throw away from being almost evil. It seemed to become the mouth of something or the gateway to that dwelling place of all my past and future nightmares.

Early that next morning, the time of day when the sun is shining radiantly, the birds are singing their lively songs, and grannies all across the world are pumping water out of their cellars. I had seen her walking that direction and thought nothing about it. After all, the green fruit had been eaten by the evil cellar door!

           “Brian Keith!” That familiar ringing in Granny’s voice that I knew so well had suddenly changed its tone. I looked, and there she sat beside the open cellar door. Recall can be such an ugly thing! “Jaws” hadn’t even been written yet, but I believe in my mind I originally scored the music piece of the vicious shark’s preemptive attack. With uncertain steps, I made my way closer to Granny and that cellar. Finally, there I stood directly in front of the cellar door…and Granny. My eyes slowly moved over each piece of the weathered framing of the cellar doorway, down each musty concrete step, and finally to the water’s edge. Suddenly, there they were! Not one or five or eight, but at least a dozen green, waterlogged, would-be plums! My pulse reached light speed! I could suddenly hear everything! And then, I heard that still voice.

           “Brian, did you throw those plums in there?” she asked, as if she were someone politely asking, “Is that your chair?”

           Suddenly, all awareness in the whole world, including the big trees and the big rat in California, shifted to Granny’s face.

           “No.” I replied, wanting myself to believe it almost as much as I wanted her to.

           “Brian…did you throw those plums down there?” she repeated.

           “Yeah.” I replied, immediately burying my chin in my chest. There, I had admitted to my wrongdoing! But, inside I knew I had disappointed my grandmother terribly. Her being disappointed in me was far worse than anything I could have ever done at that point in my life.

           “O.K., run on.” She said, with somewhat of a weariness in her voice. No, she wasn’t weary, just let down.

           I didn’t understand why she had dismissed this act of treason the way she did, but this time I obeyed with no hesitation, and I heard every word she said. But as I walked away, I was unsettled inside. I didn’t feel redeemed. I felt very ashamed.

 I went inside the house. The house was a very old house. It had seen many a memory birthed, as well as five children, and the death of the father of those children. It had also witnessed hard work, hard times, excellent cooking, laughter, tears, and growth. But mostly, this house experienced unyielding love, and heard fervent prayer. My friend, when these are your tools, the results are priceless…regardless of the situation.

           I went into the living room and lay down on the couch. The couch sat against the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Through the doorway, the kitchen light illuminated brightly against a large portion of one of the living room walls. As I lay on the couch, I was essentially facing the wall that held the light reflection. My thoughts were still focusing on this heinous event that I had committed, bewildered by the fact that I had simply walked away. For everything, there is a season.

           In the distance, I heard the back screen door open and close. I still lay there looking at the light reflection on the wall. Suddenly, I see a very vivid shadow of a large woman holding a switch that looked like a telephone pole at first glance! Without a word of warning, I saw that familiar hand reaching out toward me, only this time it was swift and relentless! I hurriedly felt my body go up and my feet hit the floor, and then I knew I was to experience the wrath!            

           Repetitiously and randomly, the switch snapped across my body! Instantly, all the frightening images swirled through my mind - the six foot rat in California…the evil cellar door…uncertainty of what was really under the bed…and all the monster movies I had ever watched! However, at that very moment, worse than any of these things, was the wrath of the Old Old Woman that was making my body scream “Wake up adrenaline!”   At that moment, I saw everything just as Dorothy did in The Wizard of Oz, when she had to run from the cellar into the house when the tornado was at her back! I didn’t know where to go, I just wanted to! The all too familiar sensation of being able again to hear everything was trying to surface it’s way into reality, except I was screaming too loud to hear anything except my own voice! I had nothing but cut offs on, and by this time (at least in my mind) a remnant or two of skin.

           Suddenly, she stopped! She really stopped! What seemed like an endless barrage of terror had only lasted seconds. Frankly, I don’t know what the distance is to Kingdom Come, but I did see the city limits sign in those few seconds! It was over! As much as it hurt on the outside, somehow I felt relieved on the inside. Yes, what a strange concept. I realized that the pain inside of us can be terribly worse than the pain on the outside.

           Shortly afterward, it was as if none of this ever happened. No doubt, I was striped from head to toe. But it didn’t matter. I was wrong and I was punished. I was never angry for my punishment, but more so…relieved. No villains, just an understanding. Love gives, says no, and forgives.

           Thirty-four years later, on a warm summer day, while mowing the grass in the far backyard of my new home, I received a special gift from Granny. This was a special delivery. You see, this gift came with an angel’s help. Granny passed away from this life in 1996 to go home to her mansion in heaven with the Lord.

           I had been thinking about her, as I do quite often. However, this particular day, as I was pushing the lawnmower closer to completion of my seemingly endless task, I looked up and couldn’t believe my eyes! I was standing directly in front of a beautiful plum tree!  It stood there as if to let me know that it was sent to me personally. I had no idea it was there until that moment! It full of those same bright red, mouth-watering plums that I saw when I was such a young boy! Tears streamed down my face and across my teeth as nothing could hold back the excitement of tears from laughter and thankfulness! I could do nothing but fall to my knees and first thank the One whom I saw a lot of through Granny. And then I thanked Him for…the learning tree.