Paul Goldfinger. “Lone Tree” Hawk Mountain, Pa.
By George Held
I never knew the Husseys but knew well Hussey's Woods, mainly the white pine so tall and wide nothing but needles grew on the ground below. That tree stood up for me when I'd refuse the razor strop my father's wine-dark rage sought to snap across my butt, and run from home to the woods. Panicked and panting I plunged through thicket, briars tearing trousers and skin, till out of hearing, safe beneath the pine tree's boughs deep in the woods. At the giant's base, my back against its trunk, heels planted in soft needle mulch, I sucked scented breath of pine as my pulse eased, home in the woods. I'd rise stiff and hug the tree, resin sticking to my shirt and cheek, cool bark hard against my heart, as I felt the worth of all that homely woods. Now no tree or shrub remains--- only the macadam car lot and showroom of Curtis Chevrolet, waxed bodies blazing where native woods once stood. Now any kid growing up in my place will lack a tree to back him up, lack earth to breathe free, on the needles in the heart of Hussey's Woods.
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Beautiful picture!
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The Velvet Fog rolls in.
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Thanks George for reminding us that Mel Tormé was known as the “Velvet Fog.” It was a reference to his voice which had an easy and velvety smooth quality. He was a remarkable jazz singer.
And thanks for sharing “Hussey’s Woods.” It is a powerful poem.
My father used his belt on me once because I went to pick punks with my friends and I wandered off the reservation. But I barely felt it since his heart wasn’t in it, but those things are never forgotten.
Parents should not underestimate the memories of kids.
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