Early in our marriage, my husband walked over to a very tall fir tree across from our church and proceeded to climb it. I was appalled and let him know. It made no difference, and he went to the top and came down successfully. I had my eyes closed for most of the ascent and descent. Yesterday, I learned that my 10 year old grandson has also taken to climbing trees. I was equally distressed. I started to wonder about males and tree climbing. Why do they do it? How often do they fall? How often do they even think about falling? Is the possibility of falling part of the excitement?
I complained that I had never had any desire to climb any tree. I maintained that it was a foolish, dangerous thing to do. I reminded everyone in ear shot about the time my friend Norman Smith failed to fly from the top of the garden shed, thereby breaking his arm. No one seemed to care. There was no indication that my grandson would change his course in the future.
But then I ran across this photo from 1954. That is me up in a tree. I have somehow managed to stand on the swing seat, pull myself up using the rope I suppose and then holler for help. Apparently this photo was taken just before I was helped down.
I guess I need to be quiet about why anyone climbs a tree!