Beloved Trees Sacrificed For ​“Unified” Look

Last week I discovered that the new management company at my apartment complex had started digging up the trees and shrubbery around the property. I was curious as to why they dug them up, as they looked healthy and didn’t appear to be interfering with anything.

Today they cut down the pin oak tree outside my window. This particular pin oak had started out as three individual trees, but they had grown so closely together that they had become interwoven into one unified trunk. As a writer, I have stared out my window at this tree countless times, listening to the stories and secrets that this particular tree has shared with me. Many people cannot hear a tree talk over the noise of day-to-day life, but when it is quiet you can listen to a tree’s heartbeat and hear it speak.

I called the management company to inquire about the ​“landscaping” that they were doing. The manager informed me they were ​“cleaning up” all the trees and shrubbery on the property.

“Well, yes,” I replied, ​“but there was nothing wrong with most of the trees and shrubbery. They were not interfering with the power lines. They did not have dead branches, threatening to break off and cause injury. They were perfectly healthy. So why would you cut them down?”
She informed me that the management company was trying to create a more unified look for their properties, and that uniformity required the trees be cut down.

“But don’t you realize that trees are alive? Why would you destroy a life unnecessarily?”

She curtly informed me, ​“The property belongs to our management company, and we will do what we wish with it. We want to create a more unified look for our properties. I can see that you’re upset by this, but tenants have no say in this process, so that is the end of it.”

And that was the end of our conversation. Perhaps the manager of the complex was annoyed that I didn’t show more appreciation for her allowing the flowers and the two bushes framing my garden to survive. I am sure next year I will not be allowed to grow petunias, zinnias and impatiens again, and that these two bushes that survived this year’s onslaught will be removed as well.

As a human being, hearing this rationale for cutting down the trees is painful. We have to learn to live with nature and work within the boundaries of our surroundings. Are we not capable of this simple task? Do we casually cut down something that is so alive and vibrant, purely for the sake of aesthetics? If this is how we see life, how far does that application reach?

I love living in New Haven. For me, part of the appeal of this beautiful, thriving city is that the streets are lined with towering Elm, Oak, Maple, Chestnut, and Magnolia trees. New Haven has 32,000 trees lining its streets. They stand so tall and majestic that they have been deemed worthy of having many of our streets named after them. Many afternoons my trusty ward, Sean, and I go for a walk to enjoy the natural beauty that our fair city has to offer.

I am in such admiration of these leafy giants of beauty that every year I keep my Christmas tree up as long as possible. It is usually still standing at the end of January. People always ask me why I keep my tree up for so long. It is because I love the branches, the lights, and I especially love the silent beauty that I see not only within each Christmas tree but also within every tree, even those we imagine: I love the part of the movie The Lord of the Rings when the Ents rebel and take over Isengard, and the audience gets to watch nature reclaiming its rightful place in the world.

There is a tree in Edgewood Park that I love. Some of its branches are gnarled, broken, and deformed. Yet the tree is still so beautiful. It provides homes to the squirrels and other wildlife, and provides shade for those passing by. Perhaps I’m attracted to that tree because I can relate to it. My disease, Charcot-Marie Tooth, is a deterioration of the peripheral nerves, which are part of the central nervous system. The spinal column is an integral part of the trunk of our own bodies. Am I like a tree, in that if my branches are deformed, then they should be cut off? Does my life have no value because it doesn’t fit the aesthetics of a perfect world? Is being a Black woman in a wheelchair, with kinky, wild hair, a reason someone can easily get rid of me — because I do not fit into a uniform aesthetic? I could be that tree. Maybe this is why I am more in tune with trees than some other people are.

You care for what you love, and you love what you have been taught has some intrinsic value. The trees in New Haven provide substantial value to the city. The net cooling effect of a young, healthy tree is equivalent to 10 room-size air conditioners operating 20 hours a day, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. If you were to plant a tree today on the west side of your home, in 5 years your energy bills should be 3 percent less. In 15 years the savings will be nearly 12 percent, according to Dr. E. Greg McPherson of the Center for Urban Forest Research. There are somewhere between 60 million and 200 million spaces where trees could be planted along our nation’s city streets. According to the National Wildlife Federation, these trees would have the potential to absorb 33 million more tons of CO2 every year, saving $4 billion in energy costs. Perhaps the most important benefit to trees is the most difficult to quantify; they uplift your spirit. Positive feelings, like pleasure, are associated with trees, and so seeing them brings forth these positive associations.

I feel kinship with those trees. They are their own unique expression of God’s love and beauty, and yet we destroy them without any thought to their value. We, as a community, must be more attuned to nature, which will allow us to be more attuned to the humanity within ourselves. We need to learn to find the value in the uniqueness of each tree, and of each other. Is there an unwillingness to do the deeper work that is necessary to see that value, or is our own greed or laziness preventing us from doing so? Can we look at our motives for such unnecessary destruction? Is it a power thought, and how does that work itself out in our daily life? Do we celebrate individuality and the right to be upon the earth, respecting all living creatures, and the space that they reside within? Or is it simply easier to pursue uniformity?

The tree outside my window was here long before we erected all these buildings. Yes, humankind needs room too. But why kill a tree unnecessarily, solely for uniformity, when there is nothing more beautiful than a healthy tree?

Crystal Emery is a New Haven writer, filmmaker and activist, who is also a quadriplegic.

Previous ​“Crystal Clear” columns:
• Crotch Gazing: The View From A Wheelchair
• ​“No,” John Said. ​“We’ll Figure It Out”