TALE OF A TREE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 65, 20 September 1940, Page 13

TALE OF A TREE

(Written for "The Listener" by

DORIAN

SAKER

F that’s the way you feel about things, Joe said, it’s pretty tough, but it’s going to come out. But Joe, Dad said, can’t you see? This isn’t a common macrocarpa — not by a long chalk. This is a special macrocarpa that I planted eight years ago on Anzac Day. What difference’ does Anzac Day make? Joe said stonily. All the difference in the world, Dad said quickly. How many macrocarpas do you think there are planted on Anzac Day? Not one in a million, I'll bet. Besides, it was only a few days after the anniversary of our wedding. What difference does that make? Joe said, still more stonily. Why, all the difference in the world, Dad said, because we’d just had a party and I wasn’t feeling too well, and Mabel had come home, and Tim had just

Bought a motor-bike. Now can you see what an uncommon macrocarpa it is? No, Joe said, I can’t, and it’s got to come out. I’m not getting any sun.

Sun! Dad said, you get sun all the time. You'll get sun-stroke if you have any more-and this really is a special tree. It’s coming out, Joe said. Now look, Joe, Dad said. How many things have I done for you lately? Did I lend you my dress suit or not? Did we lend you those two chairs when your wealthy great-aunts were staying with you? Did I go round like a stuffed rooster one whole morning just to show what fine neighbours you had, so that they'll leave their money to you? Yes, yes, Joe said. I know all that, but haven’t we made up for it? How often have you been using our telephone in tke last two days, and made damn nuisances of yourselves too? And who drank all the cider that we had at that party on Thursday night? I didn’t drink much, Dad said. You drank two bottles, Joe said. It’s a lie, Dad said, I couldn't. You couldn’t walk home afterwards, Joe said. Well, if that’s how you're going to take a piece of fun, I’ll never come again, and then nobody else will, because without my concertina your parties would be like stale scones. Keep away, Joe said, and I'll keep some cider. Now let’s get this tree out. Joe, Dad said, have you the heart to do this?

I'm as hearty as I can be, Joe said. Watch me while I take the first swing. After all I’ve told you, Dad said, about it’s being planted fifteen years next Labour Day. Have you the heart? You said eight years and it was Anzac Day last time, Joe said. What does it matter, Dad said. It was fifteen, and I’ve nursed it like a baby ever since. I think this is fabrications, Joe said. Not about a tree like this, Dad said, I couldn’t. Weil I’m sorry, Joe said, but we must have light, and this tree’s blocking it, so it has got to come out. Are you taking a correspondence course on logic, or what? Dad said. No, in common sense, Joe said, and its a pity you don’t, too. Don’t need to, Dad said. Am I going to get this tree out, Joe said, or not? S’pose you'll have to, Dad said, go ahead. After some time Joe heard violent chopping at the other end of the section. With horror clutching at his heart he left the macrocarpa and hurried off to investigate. Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Joe said. Chopping down this aerial of yours, Dad said: I didn’t notice it when you first put it in our section, but it’s taking all the radio waves, and we can’t get any volume from our set.