two trees

A couple of years ago, my family honored the memory of our friend Beth Berman by planting two trees in our yard.  The decision as to what type of tree to choose was such a difficult one that we ended up picking out two trees.

One was a variegated Vanderwulf Pine.  It's striking and amazing in its color and its unique look.  It's not like other trees.  And it's completely unsuited to Georgia summers.  Heat and humidity will kill it.  It's an alpine plant, but such a knock out when it's really going and growing well.

The other one was a Southern Magnolia.  A no brainer for our area.  Dependable.   Solid.  Proven performer.  Flowers, fragrant, evergreen and absolutely created to thrive in our area.

The two of them together: a perfect synthesis of the beauty of who Beth Berman was.  At once volatile and willing to be so unique, rare, and impossible to grow while showing such stunning radiance.  And completely steady, dependable, and productive day in and day out.  A safe bet, but always on the margin.

Keith Jennings has opined of the recent loss of the icons that defined those of us 40ish and a bit better: Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and now John Hughes.  As for me, I would add the two year old loss of Beth Berman.  In describing the meaning of John Hughes in her life, Molly Ringwald described him as the person who "saw something in me that I didn’t even see in myself."  The description is so apt of why the memory of Beth Berman penetrates my life.  Her, the administrator, and me, the fledging and for the most part incompetent program director who had no clue of what I was capable of.  But she somehow did and pretended that it was the most obvious thing.  Right up until, but really only after her death, I started believing that along with her.

So the Vanderwulf pine is still looking good, and surprising me, and taking my breath every time I round the corner and see it.  Just like the Southern Magnolia can be depended on to be there for a long time.

I know the Vanderwulf pine will probably die soon.  The Magnolia will probably outlive me.

They both will always remind me of Beth and I can only hope that I'll stay true to the Vanderwulf pine parts of myself and the Southern Magnolia parts of myself.  I hope that I'll always be free with living and confident in the lasting sense of life the way Beth was.

I hope I can always see something in others that they don't see in themselves.

I hope I'll be able to honor that as we gather together on Thursday night to remember the people, like Beth, who are unafraid to die because they know they'll always be alive.