We went into the forest. At once we were affronted. Index cards of white and blue pinned up on trees lent an air of the ridiculous to this majestic woodland. They carried names, human names, first, last, whose origins were at first unclear. Did they belong to explorers? Botanists? Had these men and women pledged to support the trees through thick and thin, to send water, pruners, surgeons? Our guide read off a few of them. “Jack Rossiter,” he said. “Wendy Gimlet. Abena O’Hara.” It sounded like he wanted to go on. We waited. But he just read those three again and again and again. Eventually a woman in the front row raised her hand. “Oh,” she said. “Oh! I am Abena O’Hara.” Another woman on the tour spoke up and identified herself as Wendy. I clapped my hand to my heart, which was suddenly going a million miles an hour. I was Jack!
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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