I was upset to hear that the city was going to cut down two old trees on the street I grew up on in North Barberton. It inspired me to write the following essay. I guess you can't fight City Hall.

The Trees on Crawford Avenue
By Karla Tipton

Of course they're right. Those who say we Boomers are spoiled.

Born between approximately 1945 and 1965, most of us middle class grew up in a rare time in which childhood was both idyllic and safe. Unlike the two generations that came before us - including those who served in World War II and those who grew up during it - the necessity to let go of our youth came later rather than sooner.

And so, to the likes of us, the fate of two old trees that stand in front of my parents' Barberton home - and that of their next door neighbors' - seem not only to be monumental, but of great spiritual significance.

The "city" - that "evil" institution, that staunch representative of The Establishment that our parents couldn't fight when we were kids (and still can't) and that we fought against so fiercely when we were teenagers - has
deemed it necessary to hack down the tree spirits who served as proud sentinels of suburbia to the kids on Crawford Avenue.

These are the trees that welcomed us after a rough day at school, greeted us on our return from Grandma's, from the tedium of our first job, the lessons of college and from the long journeys of adult life when we returned home for a much-needed visit.

These trees are now marked with big orange X's, signifying their state-ordered execution for no crime but of struggling to grow strong, on a
street where most of the other trees have already been hauled away. In the eyes of the city, pushing up a few cement sidewalk blocks is a capital crime.

Now these stalwarts of neighborhood life are marked as traitors after decades of faithful service to the cause of American middle class values, labeled by the regime in power for extermination - a regime whose ancestors
destroyed the spirit of their own city by tearing down its founder's mansion in the name of progress for a few extra tax dollars.

Such a comparison may seen too melodramatic to many people for the sake of a couple of trees.

Perhaps.

And yet, to the Boomers who cherish their childhoods more than their possessions (and that's saying a lot), the destruction of our home trees is just one more glimpse of our lost way of life.

And like one more layer of denial stripped as so much tree bark from our disappointed selves, our expectations of the world and our cherished
suburban dreams didn't quite turn out as promised back then.

All that remain are sad stumps of hopelessness. Memories of all that once seemed so solid, now lie as sawdust at our feet.

And so we Boomers at last glimpse our own mortality which, until recently,
we couldn't even imagine.