Article IX: "Nature's Calling"
The old man sighed. He reached down to pick up a crumbled wrapper
that was pinned by the wind against an empty trash container.
Dropping it into the container, he watched it glide to the bottom.
He looked and noticed a small child watching him, with eyes that
reflected curiosity, yet fear. The old man smiled, and leaning on
his cane he turned, and hobbled toward his home.
The old man had a lot of time to contemplate now. Today, he wondered
if his life had been a waste. At times he would think about the
choices he had made with his life. Perhaps his youth was lost to
idealistic philosophy.
A breeze pushed against him, reminding him to stop and look around.
He noticed an old friend, chattering at him and hanging upside down
on the bark of a tree. Reaching into his pocket he found a peanut, held
it out to the squirrel who ran up his pant leg, took it from his hand, and
darted back up the tree.
It seemed now, that there was little left for him to do. Yet, a simple walk
always found so much wonder in the nature around him. Even a single
leaf, hanging on to a limb provided wonder and inspiration. The wind
seemed to have a voice now, and the ground beneath his feet felt alive.
He was alone, yet the life around him was his fellowship. He remembered
Sharon, his mate since youth. He wondered if her spirit was in the wind,
if perhaps she was the voice that spoke gently to him today.
Sitting on a bench, he rested his knees. They did not hold him as well as they
used to. Again, he began to contemplate. Leaning his chin on the top of
his cane, he sighed again.
"You damned tree huggers should be shot!" His eyes looked up. He sat back
and looked at the sky. "What is more important, my kid’s food on the table,
or your stupid trees!" He remembered the stalky man in heavy work boots,
a large axe held tightly in his fists. His face was sweating, his heart pounding.
He began to fear for his life.
The old man frowned, remembering this encounter from his youth. The scene
played over and over in his head many times during his life. Today he
wondered if his youthful idealism had stood in the way of accurate thinking.
Perhaps he was being selfish, denying this man a right to feed his family. Perhaps
man’s need to survive supersceded the rights of any tree or animals. It was an
idea that created a life time struggle for him. He had been a small part of a big
movement, that had even bigger opposition.
His goal to help preserve nature, raised tough questions. He remembered standing
in front of the logging trucks with his friends, believing they were doing a
good thing. It did not matter that they might be hurt, or even killed. All that
mattered was our home, our planet that we were destroying.
But the tough question that lumber jack asked that day left an impression,
a question the old man was never able to answer.
"What is more important, my kid’s food on the table, or your stupid trees!"
"What is more important, my kid’s food on the table, or your stupid trees!"
"What is more important, my kid’s food on the table, or your stupid trees!"
Over, and over the question played.
Certainly, he did not want to hurt anyone. Especially those who he was trying
to help preserve the planet for , the children. Yet the irony was, that in order
to preserve, the lumberjack would lose his job, and his child would be hungry.
It seemed that perhaps there could be a compromise. Could not the lumber
company harvest in a less destructive way? Could not they leave pristine
forest untouched, and work with areas that are replanted for the harvesting
of trees?
The old man pulled out the daily newspaper from his pocket, and looked
at the story again on page 4. Plastic lumber. Made from garbage. He
wondered if this wouldn’t help to cut the demand for wood.
It seemed sometimes the only answer to stop killing so many trees, was to
stop needing so many trees. Alternative methods would help this. But
only if people would start using them.
But this left the question of the child who goes hungry because the
father cannot cut trees anymore.
It is a tough question. The old man stood to continue his walk home.
The wind whispered to him, the leaves rustled and calmed him.
Nature thanked him.
These stories are copyrighted by Timothy L. Drobnick Sr.
1995,1996,1997,1998,1999,2000. All rights are reserved.
No permission is given to reproduce any part of these
stories without express written consent from Timothy
L. Drobnick Sr.
