Trees are people, too.

Okay, they're not, but in some ways they are. And I'm not being just a tree-hugger here, someone who values trees almost the same as human life and goes to extremes to save them. I'm a lover of trees in all their mystery, just as I'm a lover of humans in all their mystery.


Trees really are kind of mysterious, you have to admit. Why are they here? Did Someone decide it, or did they just pop up from nowhere and somehow grow into infinite designs and to such awe-inspiring heights?

Usually we think of species as being inter-dependent, like us and animals we raise for meat, or bees and pollen and next spring's flowers. But, so far as I know (and I don't know anything about botany or forestry) trees just grow up out of their own roots, year after year, even century after century, totally independent of anything we humans or insects do (although certain insects can, and do, kill trees). They grow and grow, long past our lifetimes.

And while shrubs and flowers and grass and weeds do the same -- although not nearly as long -- they are, by turns, pretty and pleasing and pesky, but they're not fully formed, by human standards. Most exist below our eye level, so that we have to stoop to prune them or dig up weeds. An occasional hedge or bush you've let go may sometimes tower over you, but most of what's in your yard is shorter than you. Except, of course, trees.

Even the smallest cherry tree, whether it bears fruit or not, will grow taller than most of us. And of course the tallest trees are taller than the biggest dinosaur that ever lived or anyone's house, however rich, or most (maybe all) the cathedral spires in the world. And the way trees spread their limbs is, I think, probably unique. I've seen many pansies and tulips that looked exactly alike, but I've never seen -- and you haven't either -- two identical trees. It couldn't happen. Just as no two humans are identical, I'd bet neither are any two trees.

Why? Who knows?

Trees are special. They're like the botanical versions of us, but they're rooted and can't express themselves except through their growth and their budding each spring. They go from seeds to great leafy things to bare limbs and back to full bloom again as the seasons progress. Sometimes I think trees are like those unfortunate human victims of what's called "locked-in syndrome", where a person is totally incapacitated, unable to respond, but still alive. And maybe even conscious. What would trees say to us if they could?

Tree-lovers are always making the case that trees are good for the environment, but I think a more convincing argument is that trees are bigger than us and have been around a lot longer and are just as complicated in their design as us and would get along fine if we were all gone. Trees are true natives. We, the intruders, need to respect them and give them their space.

Should we ever cut them down? Of course. Just as we kill cows and chickens and all our other fellow earth inhabitants for food. It's brutal, to be sure. But chickens and cows do pretty much look the same, no? As do fish and other edible species. We don't think of them as having distinct personalities. One shrimp really does look like all the other shrimp, no?

We depend on them to feed us, as we depend on trees to give us lumber, which builds our homes and cities and bridges, etc. Our civilization depends on lumber. But if every tree really is different from every other, why not treat them as native humans treated animals they killed for food? With respect. I think all the loggers ought to say a little prayer or blessing before they chainsaw down a big living creature that we don't understand at all. Just as you and I should before we bring down a tree in our yard that is blocking our view or disturbing our landscaped yard.

Trees come and trees go, just like us, but I'd still bet no two twin-looking lodgepole pines on the slopes of the Rockies just outside Aspen would, after close scrutiny, look exactly alike. Think of a postcard of a forest or of a few thousand of us at some rock concert. All us people, just like all those trees, look kind of alike from a distance, right? It's only when you look at each of us in close-up that we become individuals. Same with trees.

Trees as locked-in people. I like that. It's probably not true, but it might make a good animated movie. Hmmmm . . ..

Be a good sick person.

We all get sick from time to time. It might be a really bad cold or, worse, the flu, or even worse, pneumonia. Or it might be something intestinal, which we don't want to talk about but which may be the worst. The point is that we're all sick sometime, and when we are, we need to be on our best behavior.

Rule #1 -- Don't over-react. Yes, you're sick, and yes, you feel like hell, but do you really think this is a life-threatening illness? If not, just give yourself over to it and know that you're going to be miserable for a few days but that you'll eventually be back to normal. (If you live long enough, you'll likely have it again and will recognize it for it is and won't worry about it so much.)

Rule #2 -- Admit that you're sick and go to bed. Don't walk around all day like a zombie, bumping into furniture and sneezing pathogens all over your family, just to prove what a great mom or dad you are. Get away from everyone immediately! Go to bed!

Rule #3 -- Don't make unreasonable demands. So you're in bed, shaking, feverish, and there's nothing you need from anyone but to be covered up and left alone. But when you wake up sometime later, groggy but not so feverish, not shaking, adjusting your eyes to the room you're in, you think: I'm thirsty. Your caretaker -- friend or family member -- dutifully brings you a glass of water or whatever you want. But then you decide you're also hungry. After all, it's been 24 hours since you had anything in your stomach. Is there any chicken-noodle soup in the house? Would it be too much trouble?

Probably not, but don't push for crackers on the side. Or refills.

Rule #4 -- Don't be cranky. Yes, you feel bad, but you're likely imposing on your loved ones, and maybe they're the ones who should be cranky. After all, you went from being an important part of this family or group to being a whimpering lump under the covers. They're all probably being as cheerful and accepting as they can, considering the fix you've put them in, so suck it up and smile and say thank you and then go back to sleep.

Rule #5 -- Don't be a hero. Don't go back to work, or to the family, the first time you feel a little bit better. Take it slow. There's an inverse ratio concerning the onset of illness and the recovery period (or there should be), something like it takes you five to ten times as long to get well as it took you to get sick. The wheezing hero you think you are may look to your colleagues like just another zombie. Go back to bed.

If I had to come up with another rule, it would be this: Put your sickness into perspective. Be glad it's just awful and not terminal. You'll get over this, however nasty it is. Some people won't.
Your immune system -- mysterious/miraculous -- will fend this off. But sometimes something invades us that our system hasn't seen before and can't defeat. That, of course, is when we die.

Chances are, you will recover from your illness and live a long and prosperous life.

In the meantime, I could use a little more chicken noodle soup. Maybe some crackers, too. Hey, anyone out there? Do I have to ring this bell again? Hello? I'm still sick in here!