you can never come back

Last night I was the life of a party. I was the party, in fact, since the balloons and drinks and snacks and festivizing was occuring pretty much entirely in my head as I slept. I think. Movies have told me I need to be unsure about that.

It was a good party - full of glowing warm colors, bright lights and lively conversations. I was in the middle, of course, doling out wisdom and witticisms to a flock of admirers. I glanced out the window and noticed it had started to snow. It was blue and cold outside and that was OK. Until people started grabbing tree planting gear. "C'mon" someone said. "We've gotta get going - I don't know how to get to the block so we've got to follow Rich".

I did not like where this was going. It was my dream, right? "Um, no." I said. "I think we should stay here where it is warm and cozy and fun and I am the life. It's cold out there and you may recall from that hilarious story I just told you that I retired from planting this summer. I think we should stay here and drink tepid, non-alcoholic dream drinks." I kept protesting as I was inexorably pulled through the door.

One of the most unforgettable lessons I learned in nine years of treeplanting is that I hate being cold and wet. Unfortunately, though, nine years has brainwashed me to a point where I think I have to plant and suffer and take it where the sun's a stranger because that's what men of grit and character and Louis Lamour"esque" panache do - they bend over.

Despite this brain bashing I've given myself I have learned a fair few worthwhile things. Like my first week of planting back in '98 when my life was as close to not-comfortable as it has ever been. The bugs were thick or thicker than sin, I had ingrown-hair boils on my feet, it rained and hailed most every day, and nobody seemed to be particularly concerned. That first week of purgatory I learned that life is sometimes difficult and I could either suck up and buck up and get a move on, or not.

As glad as I am that planting forced me to scratch the surface of what it means to have the courage to change the things I can and the serenity to accept the things I can't, I hope to heaven and all King David's concubines that the dreams will stop. Tree planting sure is a whole lot less pleasant when you do it for free.