A series of essays....
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| THE BEAUTIFUL MAPLE TREE STANDING STRAIGHT AND TALL |
....as seen through my eyes!
A personal tribute to my friend and mentor, Danna Ephland
By: Jacqueline E. Hughes
Move aside my fragrant Eastern White Pine standing tall among the mighty Michigan old-growth forests, symbol of peace, lending credence to being the most widely utilized and sought after species within the various forest growths of the Northwest. You are a tough act to follow. Nevertheless, my free thinking, five-year-old self will always remember the true heroes from her Midwestern childhood.
Two graceful maple trees stood guard in front of our rental home in South Bend, Indiana. My Mother said they were there to be tall and elegant, help to buffer the sound of the busy boulevard we lived on, and protect us while Dad was away for work during the week. They soon became my friends and favorite trees.
Yes, they were surely female entities, distinctive living creatures, curved and stately soldiers never abandoning their honorable posts with their untiring arms stretched out to protect us day and night. Donning massive headpieces, soldier’s helmets of green and silver that became animated in the slightest breeze, they could sway and dance all day to the music of the moving vehicles with mechanical notes calibrated in random beeps and honks.
They may have had names back then; that particular memory has long slipped away.
Sitting for hours on the paint-chipped, wooden steps of the small front porch, it was so easy to become mesmerized by these beautiful ladies. Well fed brown squirrels traveled the tree's abundant hardwood highway system and their chatter echoed while they stopped at major intersections along their route. Robins felt safe building precious nests among the crooks of their strong, slender arms, high above street level. The maples never competed for the most action happening between one another because nature always felt comfortable harboring within either one; both trees fulfilling their job as refuge, shelter, sanctuary, retreat, and port in a storm.
And there were storms.... One does not live in ‘tornado alley’ or near the lake-effects spawned by Lake Michigan and not experience them. Midwestern storms are a parody of life itself. Maybe I didn’t realize this as a child way back when, but the tornado that swept through the neighborhood several blocks to the north of us one spring afternoon awakened my senses, grasped my full attention, and changed my life forever.
By the time the debris had settled and the sun shone back upon our little community, tears of grief for the victim’s homes and innocent joy for the safety of our own flowed abundantly. In my own mind, the safety I’d once known would be forever altered. Life had taken its twists and turns and mocked the security I once knew and replaced it with the symbolic death of what was once a solid element of my young life.
The first time I met Danna was my first day of poetry class last fall. Having arrived early, she and I had time to properly introduce ourselves to one another and I recall falling instantly under the spell of her gracious smile and warm personality. It was as though we’d known one another for years. Not knowing exactly what to expect from the class, she had a way of settling my nerves in order to draw me into the fold. I was smitten by her kindness; captivated by her knowledge and intelligence. Danna’s love for her craft and ability to infuse her knowledge within others so seamlessly, contributed to her expert teaching ability and brought out the very best in all of her students.
As the classes proceeded, Danna became my mentor and helped guide me back into a life of poetry, something I’d nearly abandoned years before. I had found a mighty maple tree in the form of this vivacious, petite woman whose smile could launch a thousand ships....and, most likely has.
I would quickly learn to nest comfortably in the crook of her knowledge and rest high above the ground by balancing the ups and downs of my life, the twists and turns of my small world within the poetic lines of the many female poets Danna introduced us to, as well as my own re-emerging sounds of indefinite instead of definite pleasure. The opportunity to delve into Danna’s own works of poetry was another highlight in getting to know her as a person, a poet, and as a friend.
I knew of Danna’s illness going in to meet her. The ability to stay strong and think positively about it was due to her guidance and perseverance. Mighty maple trees have a tendency to do this. She was able to dance to the melodic notes of positivity and instructed her seedlings to do the same. After periods during which maple trees experience stress, such as a harsh winter, they can grow a greater number of seed pods.....and, we seedlings, helicopters, whirlers, whirligigs, and samaras danced to her music and twirled down from the mother plant to land firmly and solidly into the ground.
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| SAMARA: KEY FRUIT OF THE MAPLE TREE |
Our fall class was to be completed at the end of October, into the early part of November at the latest. Our mighty maple tree pushed herself to accommodate us even as her poor body was working against her. She managed to spread out our classes enough to fulfill her lesson plan and listen to all of our works in progress or completed. Danna enjoyed life, her work, the pleasure of passing her knowledge and love on to family, friends, and students, to shade and protect us by wrapping us in her strong, slender branches and watch us thrive.
After learning of her evening passing nearly two Saturdays ago, I experienced an interesting vision. Running up from the basement after the horrific storm as a child, and pounding my white sneakers through the brush and debris left behind by the powerful winds, I rushed to the front of our house to find that my two graceful maple trees were still standing guard over us. Many of their striking leaves thickly blanketed the wet grass below but our little, white bungalow was intact with the exception of a shingle or two, along with one broken limb that pushed itself into the soft ground of our front yard. The underbelly of my maples proved vulnerable. A part of one of them lay at my feet and I began to run away as quickly as my small feet would allow. That's when I realized I was crying.
Many people have influenced my life, for better or worse, since that fateful tornado. And, hopefully, children do grow-up learning how to weather the storm, even out the playing field, and cope with the inevitable. Danna brings these lessons home simply by living the best life she possibly could live, fighting the good fight, imparting her wisdom on to others, loving her son beyond anything else, while demonstrating that the example of her own vulnerability is her legacy of strength and gracefulness.
The silver maple is a graceful, fast-growing type of maple tree that does best planted in moist locations away from buildings because they do tend to drop their branches. Recently, another branch has fallen from the mighty maple tree. The spirit and strength of this graceful tree will live on indefinitely through beautiful souls like our dear friend and mentor, Danna Ephland. You are my teacher.....and, I will always remain your humble student.
You are so missed.
Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved
