1. The importance of trees
January 1979, age thirteen and two months (ish)
I’m not afraid of climbing trees. I remember the majestic maple that stood solidly on our front lawn, guarding the house like some armored knight. The maple was the first tree I ever climbed, but not the last. Still, it will forever be my favorite. No other tree on the block stood taller, leafier, or greener in spring, nor turned as many beautiful shades of orange and brown in fall. If there were an award for the most beautiful climbing tree in Santa Nina, California, the Mills’ maple would surely have won, hands down.
Its bumpy brown trunk provided nature’s best stepladder up to my favorite branch. This first long arm extended lovingly toward my bedroom window. I would climb up the tree onto its sturdy arm any given sunny day, just to lie on my stomach, arms dangling, denim-covered legs bent at the knees, crossed at the ankles, and feet clothed only by dirt and sap.
Somehow, my pixie-cut brown hair seemed always to invite a few stray leaves. Never in all my years have I experienced more bliss than on the motherly arm of that maple tree.
Tree-lying started when I was eight and ended three years later
when it became tree-sitting because the hard branch hurt my new, my changing, my (you know, br----)…. Dad had the tree uprooted two weeks before I turned thirteen, said it had some sort of terminal disease.
Such are the problems of the female tree-lyer.
The name on my birth certificate reads Maclyn Elizabeth Mills, but ever since I can remember, people have called me Mac. Then last year, I started signing homework: Eliza Mills, Esq. I decided I deserved a bit of moving up in this world. And if the only way I could do it was by changing my name, so be it. I don’t think my family thinks much of it. In fact, Eric’s the only one who calls me Eliza.
Okay, so here’s the whole naming story. Everyone has one. This is mine.
Dad: Let’s name our only little girl after a beautiful woman, Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onasis.
Mom: How about after my best friend from high school; you know, the one who killed herself when she didn’t make the cheer squad. Madeline.
Me (had I a voice): This is kinda morbid people. Sure, I get the intent and all, but come on, a little compassion.
Parents: Why don’t we combine the two names. Yeah. Maclyn. Sounds kinda like a fish, but it’s the sentiments behind it all.
See why I prefer my second name, Elizabeth? Eliza. I think it sounds so much more grown up. Because as hard as I try to convince myself that a name is a name is a name, I just can’t fall in love with MACLYN. Don’t you think Eliza sounds better?
Maybe you have a name that doesn’t please you. I say, change it. Remember, you are the one (not your sappy parents) who has to go through Life with it.
I think that by age thirteen, I ought to be able to call myself whatever I want.
So this is my life so far. And because of some recently developing events, I just felt I had to share my world with, well, with the world. It’s funny that what is helping me right now understand about life is death. That’s just wrong. But it is what it is, so here I am about to share some amazing truths – I mean, some discoveries about life. You know – what it’s all about. As far as I can tell at this point, there’re just a few things you need for this silly journey.
Most importantly, you need a belief in yourself, a trust of your own instincts. All of this requires a dash of honesty - no, not a dash, a heaping tablespoon, because if you’re not honest with you, your instincts will lie, and then you’ve had it.
Trusting your instincts is kind of like climbing trees – you don’t know anything until you try. You won’t know if your instincts lie, or if you can’t climb a tree, unless you take that first step. And always remember tree-climbing rule number one:
no tree’s too tall
Eric, the smartest of my four older brothers, has always told me that Life’s answers come to you. You don’t have to go looking for them. What a relief. So, I’m waiting…and…nothing.
I mean, some of my earliest memories float around death – my little cousin, my beagle. If the answer to what Life’s all about is Death, loss, tragedy, you can keep that.
Eric says I’m not seeing the BIGGER picture. So, I’m looking, putting on my magic glasses and peering into Life’s microscope. (Actually, maybe I should be looking through binoculars – see close up what’s so far away.)
Fortunately for me, I have my dear friend Paisley Park to help me sort out all of this confusion. Pais has been a big help throughout my life. She moved in next door the day after my cousin Ben died.
I wish I could say it was the day that changed my life. Maybe it was, but that’s not how you see things when you’re four years old. Still, Pais has had a big effect on me. More than anyone else.
We get along like bread and butter. We’re the same age and share the same birth sign – Scorpio. Pais’ birthday is October 27, mine is the 31st (yes, that’s Halloween). Apart from that, though, all we have in common is our desire to grow up as soon as possible.
Growing up – is that God’s little joke? I mean, when you talk to adults, they always say that they’d never want to go through their teen years again. (That’s encouraging.) It makes you think that either growing up is tough, or they just didn’t know what they were doing. Maybe they tried too hard on their own.
“They didn’t know what they were doing,” says my wise friend Paisley.
She talks to All That Is (that would be God or Goddess. All That Is can be male or female.) Pais believes in equity. We are all equal, she tells me, but not all the same.
She’s who first told me to trust my instincts. Pais believes that our instincts are All That Is talking. Actually, what she said was: “She speaks to us, through us, just listen, the voices you hear, the loving ones, the ones giving you the right advice – that’s the Goddess, All That Is.”
Listen to your intuition, your instincts. Makes sense. Someone must know the plan. Why not let it be an invisible force that whispers in your ear?
* * *
Invisible whispers, sudden ideas out of the blue, helpful strangers – I will take them all, because something awful’s happened. Something just terrible. Grandpa’s dead. He died more than a month ago now, but it still feels like it happened yesterday. I wanted to stop writing. Stop thinking. Just stop. Completely. No one prepared me for this. No one told me that death could be so wicked, so thoughtless. That when someone you love dies, it’s just absolutely rotten.
I thought I understood things after Snoopy died, and Ben. But this is different. This is Grandpa.
Uncle Bert flew in. Then he and Mom drove down to Lost Palms to help Grandma. She’s not doing well at all. We drove down a few days later. It was a small funeral, just family really. Grandpa wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread across the desert. So we did that.
Then Mom flew with Grandma and Uncle Bert to New York. I guess Grandma’s going to live with Uncle Bert now. He seems to have a habit of taking in people after a death has disrupted their lives. It’s somehow comforting to know Grandma and Bert will have each other. I’ve always worried about him. I just don’t want him to be lonely. Or Grandma either.
Loneliness is the worst thing. I think Grandma’s just sad now.
I wonder if there are a lot of trees in New York City. I mean, sure, in Central Park, but what about away from there? Does Uncle Bert have a sturdy maple growing outside his apartment? Do they even have maple trees in New York City? And if they do, who climbs them?
I don’t know when Mom will return. Soon, I hope.