The Violin Tree - Travels of a Tree - George E. Thomas (popular novels .txt) 📗

The Violin Tree of Fulton, NY – Travels of a Tree

This is a story both bad and good about a tree that once lined Hannibal Street in Fulton, NY. A huge old red leaf maple, a king of a tree. Well over 6 feet in diameter at the butt and at least 100 feet in height. An old tree it was no doubt, probably at least 100 years it had been providing shade in the summer, beauty of foliage in the autumn, stark contrast of branches in the snow of winter and the raising of awareness of new life in the spring. It was a proud tree, living there on the corner of 7th and Hannibal. A tree that sheltered a house, provided shade from the sun, enhancing the beauty of the property, a wonderful addition to the atmosphere of a house that someone called home.

Old trees, especially maples, are so huge, tons and tons of wood rising into the sky. Winters in Fulton are cold and snowy. Old trees brittle and tender see their lives end when the limbs loaded with snow and ice are dropped into the streets. Damage to the structure of the tree results in weakness as insects or rot invades the heart of an old friend.

So in desperation to control damage from the heavy weights dropped into the street in the winter, the city makes the decision that the ole friend has lived its life and must come down.

Out goes the tree removal crew and down comes huge limbs one at a time, first the top is taken down, then the main limbs are laid out side beside and finally the big ole body of trunk is laid over.

Watching the entire operation, the destruction of a life, is the home owner. Upset and mad, wishing only that the tree live another year, to provide the solace of a home and comfort of its giant size.

I watched this ole tree giving up its life. I lived on down Hannibal Street a few more blocks from where the tree had lived its life. I watched one day as the top branches came down, the next as the largest of the limbs were be spread on the ground and the final day when the trunk was laid over into the yard beside the road.

On that last day curiosity got the better of me, I had to know what type of tree was that laying in the yard. So on my way home from work I pulled off Hannibal Street onto 7th and parked beside the road.

I walked through the remains of the tree, looking at the huge pieces left, big rounds of wood, some of them over 4 feet across. I picked up a broken piece of wood and looked at it and like a loud horn going off in my mind, I realized . . . this ole tree can live again and it was entirely up to me to make it happen. For as life would happen to bring living things together, so had the end of life of this ole tree and my life been brought together and for a purpose.

For I am a violinmaker, a craftsman of wood. Of not just any wood, for violins take special wood . . . and lying on the ground at my feet was that special wood, enough to make thousands of violins.

So then and there I made up my mind . . . I would see an old tree from Fulton NY remain alive through the joy of hearing music. I went up to the front door of that house there on the corner of Hannibal and 7th and I knocked on the door.

The person that came to the door was anything but happy to see me when I asked about the ole tree. In fact the person, a lady of later years, was so upset of the condition of the tree that initially she did not say a word when I asked about the tree . . . she simply shut the door without ever having said a single word. I was not about to give up on that ole tree . . . No . . . there was life to be had in it . . . even in its death. So I knocked again on the door of that lady so upset about her tree. This time when she answered I was much more gentle and kind and expressed my sympathy for her loss of that friend in the yard.

I explained what I wanted; a few pieces of wood to make the life of a tree give life to notes of music. Slowly she shared the story of that hated event out next to the road. How appeals to the council, the mayor had gone unheeded. In sorrow, with a tear in her eye she said, "If it is wood that you want then you must go see the mayor for his lack of being just."

Her words I took to heart and set forth on my way. I wandered to main street looking for such place as the mayor of this good city might find a place of business. There on main street I did find, exactly as the lady had explained. A place of service for automobiles, gasoline, tires, and oil and upon asking about the mayor I was pointed to one man. In humble respect I explained to him my plight, of tree in yard and musical delight.

His look of doubt I carried away, but also the information to save that tree for another day. The brother-in-law of the mayor did cut wood, for fireplace and stove, a few dollars he would charge. So off I went with directions in mind to find the good brother with saw and the time. Finding the home of the woodcutter was easy and a surprise, for he lived just around the corner, on 6th, a block or two away.

I knocked on the door and asked for the man and his wife she brought me into the house and I sat waiting a little time. When the man who would cut the wood for fireplace or stove understood what I wanted a price he did quote. A hand shake and a nod was all that it took and I went away knowing that the wood I would get.

The next day, only 24 hours from the previous, I was surprised when I drove home from work to see a mountain of wood, just as I had described that I wanted. The biggest surprise was that there was so much of it cut and neatly stacked. Much more than I had hoped and more than I could possibly care for since violin wood is special and must be cared for in special ways.

The rest of the story is that all of that wood I did take. I lovingly took the special care that must be done. I saved that tree from death in another form. For I know that as to the present more than 30 violins have been made from that tree. I can provide to you a list of makers of fiddles who praise the wood from the Violin Tree of Fulton, New York.

Publication Date: 11-18-2009

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