Friday Dispatch: 500 Years

Living and voting with the next 20 generations in mind

Friday greetings,

Sometimes, social media pays off! I follow an Instagram account called Big Tree Hunters. The account is run by Fred Tree Man Breglia, who also serves as executive director of the Landis Arboretum in Esperance, NY.

Not long ago, this post caught my eye since Granby, Connecticut is only about 20 miles from Longmeadow:

Fast forward to yesterday.

I ate lunch with my parents before heading out with my Mom for this week’s Thursday afternoon adventure. Sometimes, we make plans ahead of time, but just as often, we figure it out on the fly. In this case, I had a couple of errands in Enfield, and we also decided to buy Halloween masks for her and my Dad to wear at the evening Halloween shin-dig in their new community.

Then I remembered the tree and suggested we find it.

We headed south on 91, laughing that it felt like we were going to the airport. We also passed signs for a trolley museum, a correctional facility, and the first chartered copper mine in the country.

Eventually, we turned off Creamery Hill Road onto Day Road, up a hill, and voilà.

The photo doesn’t do it justice. This tree’s knots and scars suggest untold history and bear such weathered beauty. I could’ve spent hours in its company.

And the branches! They extend well beyond its trunk, bowing low and stretching along the ground. We couldn’t resist…

When I walked back a bit to get a better look at the tree’s entirety, my Mom stepped right into her most effortless role of movement teacher.

“Make a shape!” she instructed.

Then, a moment later, “Change!”

So I did.

The whole thing reminded me so much of Noyes Camp in the late 70s and early 80s, where my sisters and I spent a few weeks each summer. Tree sprites, wood nymphs, and fairies – oh my! (Also, the origin of my chickadee tattoo.)

This grand tree has witnessed and withstood the humans in its midst for approximately 20 generations. That’s about 18 “greats.” What an incredible privilege to be in her midst.

When I cast my vote next week, I’ll do so with the next 500 years in mind. I’ll be thinking of the oldest trees and most vulnerable saplings, of strength and resilience, and of the ways that we humans hold such innate and immense capacity to be good stewards of this fragile world.

May it be so.

Shabbat Shalom and love,

Jena

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