Treewhispers

A Fall day in freshman biology class…Sister Mary Rita tells us to look out of the classroom window and tell her what we see. “A tree, Sister!” was the general response. “Yes, yes, yes…now what can you tell me about it?” “The bark peels off and makes a mess. My baby brother tried to eat some yesterday.” Muffled hee-hees were then silenced by a disapproving:”Thank you, Angela. Can someone else add something? Sister then points to me. “Well, the boys on Fernon Street call the seed pods itchy balls and make a game of pelting us girls walking home from school. And I can personally attest to the fact that they are itchy ’cause my brother always enjoys dropping and squashing one down my back.” More snickers followed and were quickly silenced by Sister Mary Rita’s now higher pitched voice showing exasperation and asking:”Do any of you know the NAME of this marvelous tree that provides nourishment to baby brothers and artillery for older ones? My goodness, young ladies, 14 years
surrounded by Sycamore trees…she feverishly writes the name on the blackboard breaking the chalk. TREES HAVE NAMES!” And DO THEY, I thought…how apropos…Syc like sick and amore, love…image of my brother pelting me with seed pods…Sycamore=sick brotherly love. The next day Sister Mary Rita asks us if anyone can remember the name of the tree discussed the previous day…silence… then a solitary hand…mine..”Sycamore!” Sister Mary Rita smiled with relief. ;-)

Contributed by B. Gudauskas