LETTERS FROM HOME: A CHAIN SAW IN THE HANDS OF A WOMAN WHO REARRANGES THINGS

Sept. 30, 1999

Dear Leslie,

You know you've married an uncommon woman when she nearly swoons the moment she realizes the anniversary gift you've presented her is a shiny red chain saw. "I've always wanted a chain saw," she said. I know.

What I don't know and tremble to consider are the many uses this woman I've been married to for six years now might have for a chain saw.

Though she'd deny it, I have spent enough time steadying the johnboat as her father slices up logs jamming his branch of the Castor River to know that a yearning to rearrange things hides in her blood.

Someone looking at the storage shelves in our basement might conclude that DC had married a very handy man. No. The sander, the circular saw, the jigsaw, the power drill, the three jam-packed toolboxes, they're all her toys. With these, she mends, molds and fashions her part of the world while I, in that late-20th century poet Bruce Springsteen's words, just stand back and let it all be.

I would have made a poor pioneer. I like houses that fit into the landscape rather than stand out on a hill. I like things as they are, not as I would have them be.

But we all come from people who ventured to America to clear and dam. Now that we have done it from sea to shining sea we slowly have begun to realize the harm we can do as well as good.

Since 1990, about 80 of the 75,000 big dams built across streams and rivers in the U.S. have been torn down because the environmental damage they cause outweighs the electricity they provide. Another 25 dams are scheduled for destruction, with more proposed.

Now we look upon the clearing of rainforests in undeveloped countries as the tragedy it is. And those are healthy trees.

A conservationist who spoke here earlier this week said a dead tree is home to 200 species of plants, insects and animals. He advised against cutting down a dead tree unless it threatens to fall on your house.

One of my favorite dead trees stands in the 17th fairway of the golf course I play. Aiming your tee shot just left of the tree puts you in good shape to play the hole. If your shot almost reaches the tree, you have a chance of getting on the par 5 in two shots.

The tree is a kind of sentinel and guide. The golf course would be much the poorer without the dead tree.

Actually, there is little worry that DC suddenly will start hacking cottonwoods. The times we were driving in California and suddenly came across a clearcut horrified her. Those hillsides were a kind of Auschwitz. They contained and provoked a heartbreaking silence.

Also reassuring is her designation of the very back of our yard as a wildlife refuge. Everything and anything is allowed to grow there. DC keeps a tub of water filled for the thirsty animals she imagines live in our jungle.

Her chain saw fantasy, I know, is to keep our fireplace stocked with wood on the chance the Y2K doomsayers are right. She doesn't want her birds getting cold.

I took DC to the East Perry Community Fair for our anniversary. That may not sound exciting, but then you've never seen the mule jumping contest. The mules jumped and jumped and jumped until Diana June and Sugar couldn't jump any higher than 48 inches and were declared co-champions of the world.

As we drove home under a big harvest moon, my uncommon woman said she'd had a real good time.

Love, Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.