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WHERE HAVE ALL THE TREES GONE?

by FRANK O'DONNELL
November 15, 2007

I’ve been singing Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” lately.
  
The lyrics really resonate with me.

“They took all the trees, put ‘em in a tree museum.”

And the chorus.

“Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got til it’s gone.”

In the 60’s, it was a protest song. I’m not sure exactly what it was protesting. Urban sprawl, deforestation of the planet, or perhaps the plight of tree museum workers.

These days, it’s all about the baseball field at North Providence High School.

The one that’s suddenly missing the majestically ancient trees that used to form the living boundary between the first base line and Smithfield Road.

Standing tall and proud, these trees provided shade for many a spectator at many a ball game. Little League, Babe Ruth, high school. All levels, all sorts.

They stopped foul balls from cracking windshields on cars passing by on their ways up or down the hill.

They fostered countless generations of song birds and squirrels happily storing their nuts.

And don’t get me started on the millions of cubic meters of carbon dioxide these marvels of botany breathed in, giving us pure oxygen in return.

They protected us, they made our lives better, and now they’re gone.

No one’s sure why.

Perhaps they were diseased, perhaps they were rotting, perhaps they would have come down in a storm. The arborist said they had to go, and there they weren’t.

With apologies to Joni Mitchell, they razed paradise and put up a melanoma factory.

Which is why I’m putting in my bid now to start up a few businesses at the high school baseball field.

First, welcome to Frank’s SPF Shack.

I’ll offer a wide variety of products to help baseball fans keep from getting too much sun.

Sunscreens to rub or spray on.

Umbrellas you can hold over your head.

Baseball caps, fishing caps and veils.

Could I perhaps interest you in a summer-weight burka?

If none of that works, I can sell you a shovel so you can dig yourself a foxhole in the berm leading up to the football field.

When it comes to covering up, I’ll have you covered.

Second, welcome to Frank’s Mobile Auto Glass Service.

You know there’s going to be an increase in smashed windows on cars that just happen to be crashing by.

When the trees stood guard, foul balls frequently pinballed among the branches, either bouncing harmlessly back onto the ball field or losing enough velocity as to be relatively harmless to traffic.

Unchecked, a hit baseball can travel as quickly as 115 miles per hour. I don’t know that, by the way. I had to look it up.

Still, imagine the damage a 115 mile-per-hour missile can do to your car.

Lots. And Frank’s Mobile Auto Glass Service will be there to replace the broken window and even sweep up the gas. All major insurance plans accepted.

Finally, welcome to Frank’s Oxygen Emporium.

With the trees gone, the air at the ball field will only get dirtier. Nothing’s there to take out the bad air and replace it with good air.

Until you drop by my new oxygen bar.

We’ll have plans by the whiff, and by the container.

You’ll find us near the no-smoking section, naturally.

The worst part of all of these business goldmines is that I’ll have to pack up everything each time I’m there.

I mean, it’s not like I can chain my stuff to a tree.

Not anymore.

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