LETTERS FROM HOME: MAMA BEAR, PAPA BEAR AND GRANDFATHER TREES ARE IRREPLACEABLE

Oct. 23, 1997

Dear Pat,

Eureka, Calif., has a zoo, a luxury for a city of about 30,000. But the North Coast of California is an isolated spot that has to provide for itself.

The city couldn't put much money into the zoo, which didn't even have a real director. The zoo was just one of the resources the administrator had to keep track of.

One year supporters held a fund-raising drive to build a new grotto for the zoo's two brown bears, named Mama Bear and Papa Bear. T-shirts with the bears' likenesses were sold and the money was enthusiastically raised.

When the time came to begin construction, the zoo head was faced with a problem: what to do with the bears while the grotto was being built.

Wildlife ranches were available to house the bears temporarily but the price was high. So the administrator, without notifying the zoo supporters, chose an alternative. He had Mama Bear and Papa Bear put to sleep. He thought nobody would mind when two new bears appeared once the grotto was completed.

There were more brown bears where those came from.

The man had no idea what he'd done wrong and couldn't have imagined the firestorm he ignited. At the newspaper, oldtimers with sturdy jaws dropped 'em when the story broke.

People picketed, the national media descended, and threats were made against the man. He said he was afraid to go out of his house.

Many theories were advanced to comprehend why this man believed that Mama and Papa Bear were expendable. People said he was actually a nice guy who just didn't have feelings for animals.

It wasn't as if he went out and killed someone, his defenders said.

These days, the city of Cape Girardeau is cutting down old trees. More expendable living things.

Their roots are causing sidewalks to buckle, presenting liability problems for the city. Some people are upset. No one's chaining themselves to trees as yet, but you don't often hear a discouraging word at Rotary Club meetings. DC has heard some.

Some of these trees are over 100 years old, were planted before the city had sidewalks, when people traveled in buggies.

If these trees could talk they could tell the story of Cape Girardeau's history like the rings in the redwood stump at Muir Woods near San Francisco, marked to point out historical events: Columbus' voyage to the New World, for instance.

These trees aren't that old, but the older you get the more relative age becomes. We are old enough to know better, even in practical terms.

While Cape Girardeau's left hand is trying to market its historic virtues to tourists, its right hand is chainsawing part of that heritage.

These trees are like our grandfathers. Like Mama and Papa Bear, these trees are irreplaceable.

In high school, some students used to make fun of a teacher who loved trees. They nicknamed her "Tree," laughed at the idea that a person could love a living thing that isn't a person.

Teen-agers grow up, learn how crucial trees are to the life of the Earth, discover for themselves the peace and beauty of living among trees. They learn what they already knew: that there is a lot more in this world worth loving beyond ourselves.

Other cities have found other solutions to the problem of buckling sidewalks and liability. Some designate historic trees to prevent the fear of litigation from damaging their communities.

Once upon a time, roses grew in a "Ten Mile Garden" between Cape and Jackson, the next town. There were 9,000 rose bushes, 1,317 evergreens and 14,000 other plants along the right of way.

Cape Girardeau proudly called itself the City of Roses and held a Rose Festival every year. Baskets of roses hung from light poles.

The Ten Mile Garden began disappearing as Highway 61 was widened out to the interstate. Today it's gone, and those with good long memories aren't the only ones who are missing it.

Love, Sam

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