The Grandfather Tree

The two boys walked towards the remains of a once much bigger orchard. Only a few of the trees still produced apples. One of those fruitful trees was the one they were headed for. One of the boys, Tim, called it the grandfather tree. His friend, Emerson wanted to learn all about it, and why he had given it that name

The field and the farmhouse beside it had been in Tim’s family for generations. It would soon be so no longer. Emerson’s family had just purchased farmhouse and field. For Tim’s grandfather, who had lived there all his life, had died a few weeks before. And his parents did not want to keep it in the family. They were now city folks, despite their upbringing in the country. And they could use the money from the sale to buy the bakery they had both wanted to run all of their adult lives. They may have become city folks, but they still baked country-style.

A Grandfather’s Rescue

As the two boys approached the tree, Tim told the story of the first time he was taken to the tree by his grandfather. He was around five years old at the time. All the branches were higher up than he could reach. So his grandfather lifted him up so that he could grab a hold of one of the lower limbs. Then Tim would try hard to pull himself up while his grandfather would lift him slowly and gently. Once he managed to get himself into a sitting position on the branch, he reached out to try to pick his first apple from a branch above the one that he was on.. It was ripe and ready for the basket that his grandfather had brought with him. But Tim extended himself out too far to grab this apple and tumbled from the tree, head, and flailing arms first. Fortunately, his grandfather reached out his arm and caught him, so that he wasn’t hurt at all. Grandfather and grandson were silent at first, then both of them burst out in laughter. His grandfather said jokingly, “It is lucky for you that you have a grandfather around to save you when you do something foolish.” Tim nodded his head in agreement, and grabbed his grandfather’s right hand firmly in thanks.

Remembering the Past

As the two boys drew nearer to the tree, Tim cried out, “There is the branch right there.” He pointed directly at what looked to be the lowest branch. Then he raised his hand a bit to a branch a little higher, and a few feet away. 

“There’s where the apple was that I tried to pick. It is too bad that there are no apples on it now. It would make for some easy picking.”

Then both boys climbed onto that first branch, reached up and pulled themselves up to the second. Tim then told of how big the orchard used to be, and how many bushel baskets the family could fill when his grandfather was a boy around their age. The way he spoke of it was almost word for word as his grandfather had told it to him a few years ago. He often repeated his grandfather’s words

Following an Undisclosed Plan

The two boys wore backpacks. The plan was to pick as many apples as they could, and take them home with them. They reckoned that their parents would be impressed. No one knew of their plans, so no parent would tell them to be careful, or in the case of Emerson’s father, would have ordered them not to try to climb the tree at all. The deed would be done before anyone told them not to do it. You can’t disobey orders that you haven’t received. That’s why he said to Tim that they shouldn’t tell anyone until they came back safely with apples filling their backpacks. Both of them had kept quiet. That wasn’t easy for Tim, as he was a talker, a born storyteller.

It wasn’t long before they had gathered up the apples around the lower limbs. That would have been sufficient, but they wanted to go higher, just to do it, not so much that they needed or really wanted to have more apples. As was typical of the two of them, it soon became something of a competition as to who could get apples from the greatest height.

That One Apple

They had picked a lot of apples from some of the higher reaches of the tree, and climbed down slowly, carefully, apples in bag. The boys looked up at the branches to admire the places they had been able to reach. Then they saw it, both at about the same time. There was an apple on the highest branch. They probably hadn’t seen it when they were busy picking the apples from the more loaded, lower limbs. But they could certainly see it now.

Emerson said, “Well there’s one that we missed.” He was about to say, “I betcha you can’t get that one.” When Tim said, “I’ll go get it.” Even though Emerson still had the energy of competition flowing through his veins, he did not want to try it. The branch looked too high up, and the branch was not very thick. He was starting as a child to develop the sensible nature that would stay with him for life.

But Tim would have none of that kind of defeatest thinking. He climbed up the already-conquered branches of the tree like the ‘crazed monkey’ that his grandfather used to say he was. He soon reclaimed the heights that they had gone to before, this time without the earlier sense of triumph. He looked up from there and got a good look at the apple and the branch it hung from. He plotted several sensible routes and strategies, but shook off each one as not the way to do it. His goal was beginning to look impossible to him. But he had to do it. 

           Finally he came up with an idea. He would stand at the crotch of two sturdy branches, one foot on each branch. Then he would leap up to grab hold of the desired branch, straddle it and pick the much desired apple. He had done something similar before at a lower height. Tim took a few deep breaths, crouched down, and stood up several times to prepare his legs for what they would be doing. Then he leapt as high as he could. He reached the branch, yes. But it snapped on him when it was supporting his weight, plus the pull of the downward momentum that redirected his motion.

Down he plummeted, head-first. Emerson looked on in horror as he saw his best friend tumbling to the ground. There was nothing that he could do.

           And then it happened. Several of the lower branches moved simultaneously, spreading out like a blooming flower but much faster, then reaching out to intercept his downward gravitational path . And they caught him too, breaking the force of his fall, with their yielding but still resistant bending, finally letting him down gently, feet first.

           Both boys stood stunned for several seconds. And then Emerson said what both boys were thinking. “I guess this really is a grandfather tree. He has rescued you again from your foolishness. There is something of him in the tree.”

           Tim reached out with his right hand, and grabbed firmly the branch nearest to him, one of the ones that had given him support.. Then he said, “I’m lucky to have you around to save me when I try something foolish.”