Digressions: My Life in 500 Words or Less

Yesterday our neighborhood lost a towering giant, a stately old tree that provided a wonderful silhouette at sunset. It happened in a natural, yet explosive, way.

Thunder and lightning moved in suddenly in the early evening. Rebecca and I had just finished eating supper. I had gone upstairs and was standing near the hallway window looking out at the rain, and she was downstairs in the kitchen near the window over the sink.

That’s when the cracking sound exploded at a volume that rattled windows and reverberated throughout our home. At the same time, a blinding flash, like the blink of a glaring million-watt spotlight illuminated everything.

Later, Rebecca would tell me she had screamed as she turned toward the window and saw the bolt of lightning obliterate a tree located in the backyard two houses away. I never heard her scream over the thunderous blast that shook our home. She described watching the tree “just melt away,” but pieces of it flew into our front and backyard, as well as the front and back yards of our next door neighbor, the backyard of a neighbor across the alley behind our homes and onto North Main Street in front our home.

After several minutes we stepped out to survey the damage. Even as pieces of the upper part of that tree littered the area, the lower portion had fallen onto the back part of the owner’s home. I have described the tree as being 30 — probably 40 — feet tall, but in looking at photos I have taken over the years and using other area trees as points of reference, I believe it was probably taller.

At any rate, it is no longer our neighborhood giant. Last night I heard chainsaws beginning the process of dissecting the remains of the stately tree.

One of the neighbors, whose little girl said it was her favorite tree, suggested it might still come back.

I’d like to believe that.