My husband and I recently overheard two of our kids reminiscing about a tree. Drawn by their laughter and whispers, we stepped in to find out more. After hearing their tales which by then had our entire family laughing, I said, “What would you think about writing about ‘the tree’ for the next Biscayne Times column?”
So, here’s our first born (now in college), Josiah Mozloom, filling in for his mom with inspiration from his younger sister Charissa.
“I think he needs a name” I said, as I retrieved a small berry from the leaves.
“We have Larry and Linda spider, Fred the squirrel, and Bernardo the iguana, but this tree doesn’t have a name.”
I whizzed the berry through the treetop, narrowly missing a red ant crawling up an adjacent branch.
“What about Tony?” replied my sister.
“I like it,” I said. “Tony Bark.”
We shared a sly smile and resumed pelting innocent dog-walkers with Tony barks (poisonous???) berries.
Tony Bark was my second home during the summer of 2020. When I wasn’t on a bike ride or complaining about being bored, my sisters and I would visit a tree in a local neighborhood park. We knew about this tree because it may or may not have been the rendezvous point for us to eat snacks that we didn’t want mom to find. Of course, mom would never say no to us going outside.
When COVID hit, the tree became our haven. Because we couldn’t go visit friends or be out and about, the tree was the only source of entertainment we had. This meant that we would sit up in this tree for hours a day. We found our own personal “spots” to sit in, new challenges to climb up to, and took it upon ourselves to name all the native creatures who lived in the tree.
The tree also grew small berries which we affectionately named “Larry Berries” in honor of our friend Larry the crab spider. From our perch about three stories up, these Larry Berries could become accurate weapons of confusion. You can imagine the fun of raining down produce projectiles from the heavens onto unsuspecting passersby.
The real adventure, however, was trying to find new “spots.” If you could find a place in the tree that you could comfortably nap, you had won. Most of our spots were about a quarter of the way up Tony Bark, in some sort of nook in a branch. From these vantage points we would bask under the shade of the tree canopy, and gaze up to the top, wondering what cornucopia of spots could lay there. We always talked about climbing to the top, saying there HAD to be something good up there, but we never had the courage to attempt it.
Until one day … As much as I hate to say it, my little sister found THE greatest spot EVER that day. In an act of bravery and courage the likes of which I have never seen before and probably never will again, she found a way up the sheer tree face that had daunted us for so long. Climbing up limbs of questionable sturdiness, and swinging from branch to branch, she landed at the top where, low and behold, the holy grail of spots laid.
It took me about a week to find the courage to follow her up.
With a significantly better vantage point to hurl Larry Berries at pedestrians, and comfy seats for the two of us, the tree became an everyday destination.
I guess I’m not sure what the moral of this story is. I'm sure my mom would like it to be something like “the power of the great outdoors” or something hippie like that … but I don’t know if that’s it.
Perhaps the message is just ... go climb a tree. It doesn’t have to be an actual tree, but just a place where you can sit and take in everything around you. Just think. Talk. Throw things at strangers. Breath in some fresh air.
Just remember climbing trees isn’t easy work. It takes courage and confidence to step out on a limb (Haha). Life is often a whirlwind of things that need to get done and, when the storm finally stops, it’s much easier to just veg on our phones than give time to ourselves. It takes consistency and support to be intentional about being with yourself and those who are close to you.
All that is to say, what I learned from COVID and that period in my life is this: When the world seems like it’s falling apart, sometimes what you really need to do is to just climb a tree.
When wearing her work hat, Lisa Mozloom is a media and presentation training coach and PR practitioner at The M Network, but at home she is a woman passionate about raising three teens, loving her husband, and finding ways to extend hospitality and hope to those around her.
(Lisa Mozloom)
Lisa Mozloom