I Found Nothing but The Truth

The Boxwood hedge shrub in the front our house has unofficially divided our property from our neighbor’s property to the north since well before I moved into our home. As we are on good terms with our neighbors, I will identify them by name: Bob and Mary.

My guess is that the shrub had been in place for at least 35 years. Our house was built in 1951. With each passing year, the shrub grew weaker and this year it was apparent the shrub was mostly dead. It had grown woody and ugly. It was also, somewhat dangerous. The few branches it did send out were at eye-level on the sidewalk side.

Two days ago, in the hottest part of the day, I got it in my head to tear away at the shrub and put it out of its misery. I needed to do this both for mental and physical reasons.

It has been a rough patch for me. My friend John is dying of an aggressive cancer, my friend Eric just passed of lymphoma and two other close friends have passed in the last 18 months. I am not at all pleased with my current book project and I am forced to pull it apart to find the true narrative.

I needed to chop away at that shrub for the mental, non-cerebral release from the world of sentences and the world of pain and sadness.

To know me, is also to know that my body craves exercise. It always has. Despite my “education,” I love nothing more than to dig away at the ground with picks and shovels. I am way too old to be a bodybuilder! Yet, if I can’t exercise and work my body, I feel as though my very soul is in atrophy. I am forced to the gym six days a week. Twenty-somethings stare at me; I am a relic!

Indian Head Penny

I have always had an interest in urban archeology. It stems from my interest in art and antiques. As I started to chop away at the earth, I began to fantasize about pennies, dimes, quarters inadvertently dropped under the roots of the shrub. With each swing of the pick, I had the feeling that I would find a treasure. I brushed away the dirt and the dried wood chips that used to be the root system of the shrub. Guess what I found?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a rock, let alone a diamond, diamond ring, gold piece, penny, rusty hinge, old pop can, kid’s marble, piece of brick or shred of string.

The shrub and its root system are now mostly gone. I am left with a mound of muddy dirt. The fantasy of finding great wealth was not only dashed, but it reaffirmed that dreamers can be disappointed.

Friday Morning

Tomorrow morning I will again do battle with my book. I brace, most everyday, to hear news of my friend. I have (I hope) satisfied the needs of my freelance writing clients and I try to remember to give thanks to whatever it is I have: my wife, my home, my car, my health and my writing.

I remember that I frequently find pennies, but on morning walks when I least expect to find them. I’ll settle for that. I have no right to ask for anything more.

This weekend I’ll search for a Hydrangea at Home Depot to plant near to where the old Boxwood shrub once lived. I will place a shiny penny at its roots just in case a dreamer needs a gift far into the future. I hope it brings a smile.