How to Hug the Giant Oak Tree

How to Hug the Giant Oak Tree 
by Ofir Marom

The benches were green – a vibrant, freshly-laid-grass green. That’s what I liked about the park – the green benches. It wasn’t too noticeable now as it was springtime and the various clusters of trees (maple, mahogany, sweet gum and cedar to name a few) looked vibrant and rejuvenated.
But in autumn, it was very noticeable.
In autumn, when everything was shriveled and lifeless, the benches were a source of hope and stability to me and the other park-dwellers (mainly old folks coming to enjoy some fresh air; and mothers, struggling to drag their children away from the brain-killing television and encourage health-and-fun-outdoor-activities) – a reminder of what was to come. Just be patient and everything will sort itself out.
THE GIANT OAK TREE was impossible to miss. It stood alone in the center of the park – a lone soldier. Even today, as I sat on a bench listening to Dave Matthews’ Don’t Drink the Water, on my iPod, the great thing dazzled and amazed me with its size.   
When I was younger, I used to come to this park often, to ride a bike or slide or swing. Once, when I was about 5 or so, I walked up to the giant tree and hugged it, with the intension of encircling my arms around it and getting my hands to meet on the other side. It was a useless attempt, of course, for the stump was incredibly thick – I doubt whether ten kids my size could have done it. But when you are a child, you are unable to put such things into perspective; and I had felt disappointed with myself at the time – I may even have cried about it, I don’t remember too clearly.
I was paying careful attention to the words of the song that were blearing in my ear:

…
And I live with my hatred
And I live with my jealousy
God I live with the notion
That I don’t need anyone but me
…

I smiled at that last part – I don’t need anyone but me. To think I had believed that once, about a year ago. I had had a typical Holden Caulfield, fuck-this-goddamn-world attitude. What had happened since then? I’m not sure. Life gave me a bit of a wake up call, that’s what – kicked me in the ass, is more like it, actually; and I’ve still got a bruise on my right ass-cheek to prove it. I felt lonely.
I hadn’t come to the park today to reminiscent about the past. I had come to think about the present and the future, and how to fix my fucked up and confused life. We only have the past to guide us though, so I guess all the tenses are intertwined. There is no future without a past. I smiled at that as well – it sounded like a slogan I could sell to the ANC for their upcoming election. I wasn’t getting anywhere though and I was feeling agitated with myself.
I noticed a child (it was difficult to tell gender or age from where I was sitting, perhaps nine or ten), staring at the giant oak, back to me; and I felt a sudden impulse to go there. I removed the earplugs from my ears, carefully laid my iPod into my pocket, and started walking towards him/her.
‘Hello,’ I said to the kid when I arrived.
I was about two steps behind her now (I could confirm from this distance that the child was a girl).  Moreover, she had blonde hair and her little red skirt was dirty with dry sand, she must have fallen while playing at the playground. She was staring high up at the tree.
She ignored my greeting
‘Hello,’ I said again, a little louder this time.
Nothing.
‘Big, hey?’ I tried once more.
Still no reply, but she nodded her head a little. I walked up to her. Her dark-chocolate brown eyes were transfixed at the massive object – she was hypnotized by it. My initial guess was right – she was about nine years old.
‘You never seen it before?’ I asked. ‘This your first time here or something?’
‘Ye,’ she mumbled. ‘So big.’
She still hadn’t fully noticed my presence.
‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘Whereya from then, hey?’
No reply. I was getting kind of annoyed with her ignoring me.
‘Where you from?’ I ventured again. ‘Oversees or something?’
‘What…Oh, I’m from America. New York. I’m visiting my family.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been to New York before. Nice there?’
‘It’s okay,’ she said.
I decided I’d had enough of this one-word-at most-answer conversation. I didn’t leave though; instead, I pulled out my iPod and carried on listening – it was now playing Santana, Put your Lights on. I liked this track.
While I was listening, the girl seemed to have lost all interest in the tree. She turned her head and said something to me, but I only heard a murmur.
‘Whatya say?’ I asked as I removed the earplug from my right eat. I was a bit annoyed at being disturbed from the track.
‘I said that that’s an old model mister. Why don’t you get a newer iPod.’
She didn’t seem too pleased that I hadn’t heard her the first time – that’s kids for you though.
‘You won’t find a newer one in South Africa, you know,’ I said. ‘We get things here a bit later than you get them in America.’
‘Oh. Shame.’
‘Tell me about it kid. My name’s Daniel. Daniel Toppler,’ I said ‘What’s your name anyways?’
‘I’m Linda. I’m bored.’ And then, as if to emphasize this statement, she bent down and started pulling grass out of the ground. 
‘Why don’t you swing, or go home and watch some T.V or something, hey?’
‘Swinging’s boring. T.V’s boring.’
I don’t know why I cared that this little girl was bored. She wasn’t very charming or anything, so I don’t know why the hell I wanted to fix her boredom problems, but I did for some reason. Then the great idea occurred to me:
‘Hey, Linda, I got an idea,’ I said. ‘You wanna hear it?’
She didn’t say anything, as expected. She was still pulling tufts of grass out the ground. I carried on anyway.
‘Let’s join hands, and see if we can hug the tree,’ I said. I was very excited about this idea. ‘We’ll see if we can make our hands touch on the other side. Whatya say hey? Should we do it? C’mon! it’ll be fun.’
I was really excited about it. I doubted whether we could manage by ourselves, as the trunk was very think. I figured though, that if we couldn’t, we’d go to the playground area and get some more kids: As many as needed. And we’d do it. We’d get the kids and together we’d encircle THE GIANT OAK TREE.
‘No. That’s so boring!’
‘What!? How canya say that, hey?’ I said, astonished. ‘How can you say that that’s boring –’
I didn’t get to finish my sentence, as Linda, having had enough of my company, decided to skip away - back to the playground with the rest of the kids. 
What a brat, I thought. Still, I was upset that she had left. I felt a lonely again, as I had when I was sitting on the bench earlier, with Dave Matthews and my past/present/future problems for company. When someone leaves you – just like that – it’s always difficult to bear, no matter whom that person is. It’s like saying to someone ‘fuck you! You’re existence means nothing to me!’ It hurts.

BACK – FLASHBACK – FLASHBACK – FLASHBACK – FLASHBACK- FLASH

Flashbacks are amazing. They just come. Whenever. It’s difficult to conceive that you’re brain has stored this memory for so long (decades, sometimes); and yet, you were completely unaware of it. Flashbacks are amazing.

Let me tell you about this flashback I got, while standing in front of the oak tree. It happened about two years ago – I was eighteen then and my typical Holden Caulfield, fuck-this-goddamn-world attitude was in fifth gear:

It happened in this very park, on one of the green benches (possibly even the one I was sitting on earlier). It was autumn. It was cold. Dead leaves were scattered everywhere – like rubble after a war. I didn’t give a fuck about the green benches, or the old folk that came to get some fresh air or the fucking mothers with their fucking babies. The park was practically empty, a few extras, here and there – that’s all they were to me, extras in a movie, where I was the main act. I don’t need anyone but me.
I was in the mood to get stoned. The best place to get stoned is in a park. I pulled out some weed and a rizler ands started rolling – weed is cheap in South Africa. Any Nigerian will sell you a joint for R10 (which is about 1 U.S dollar) and you could probably bargain him down to R5. We may not get the latest model iPods, but at least it’s cheap to get stoned  - I should’ve told that to that little girl. I would’ve too, if I had met her 2 years ago, when I didn’t give a fuck. I was so busy rolling, that I didn’t see the owner of the gruff, coarse voice.
‘You ther. Wat ya up ta ther?,’ it said. It sounded a bit like a pirate’s voice.
I looked up slowly.
It was an old man; about seventy I’d have ventured to guess. He was wearing dull, worn clothes – not old clothes, but clothes that had been rewashed and re-ironed since god-only-knows when. His teeth were a skewed, as was his posture; and he was squinting at me like he was trying to work out if I was actually human. He even smelled old – old people have a funny, stuffy smell, I find.
He sat next to me without an invitation – Why the fuck don’t they make benches with only one seats! I remember thinking.
I ignored the old man, hoping he’d piss off.
‘Arnet ya worried ther at all, laddie?’ he asked.
I didn’t know what this guy was on about. I didn’t appreciate his interfering in my business though.
‘What? What the hell should I be scared of old man?’
‘Coppers. Wont be to happy if they catch ya smokin that stuff,’ he said. ‘Poison tha stuff is – for yur lungs.’
I was a bit amused by this guy.
‘Na man. This shit’s not that bad,’ I said. ‘Get a good high from it too.’
I felt like teasing the old bastard a bit.
‘Wanna try some old man?’ I asked.
The old man ignored my question. Instead, he looked straight ahead at something, squinting; and leaned his whole body foreword too. I had finished rolling the joint, lit it and inhaled-exhaled a few times. 
‘Ya see that?’ The old guy said. He was excited about something, but I wasn’t really listening to the old guy’s ramblings anymore. I was too busy with my joint.
‘Was an animal of some type – raccoon, I think. Swinging through the trees it was.’
‘Yeah, whatever man’ I said. This weed was good - I was feeling it already. 
“Swinging to the trees, it was.’ He said, stroking his chin, as though to reaffirm to himself that he really did see it.
‘Hey, old man, why don’tya get contacts or something?’ I asked. ‘Then you’d know if you saw something in the fucking trees – like a raccoon. If you had glasses, you’d know what the fuck was happing around you man.’
‘Contacts…’ The old man said mused. ‘Those ar like glasses right?’
‘Yeah, yeah. The help you see shit that’s happening around you. That can be very useful sometimes,’ I said sarcastically.
‘Boy, I wanta tell ya something –’ the old guy started, but I didn’t let him finish. I could smell a lecture coming on.
‘Save it man. Save it,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear. Okay?’
I got up and left…

That’s the flashback I had.

Instinctively, now, I turned around to look at the benches. I don’t know what I expected to find, but I searched anyway. It was empty. I was sad, and I started walking back home.
On the way back, I kept on looking around, hoping to find that old man, but the streets were empty - except for a stray cat and a scawny looking dog. I don’t know what I would have said to the old man had I found him.
I was about 5 minutes from my house now, and as I turned a street corner, I had this strange image in my mind of  Linda, the old man and I, hands together around THE GIANT OAK TREE. Together, we manage to overcome the obstacle – the thickness of the stump - and our hands meet on the other side.