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    Unsuspecting Friends
    Unsuspecting Friends
    Unsuspecting Friends
    Ebook73 pages1 hour

    Unsuspecting Friends

    By Michael Shaw

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    About this ebook

    Unsuspecting Friends is the autobiography of a Sweet Gum tree that describes his second life as a picnic table. This fascinating story can be compared to “The Traveler” in which General Robert E. Lee’s horse describes the Civil War from an animal’s perspective. For many years Sweet Gum quietly observed residents and visitors of all ages at Lake Windjammer Estates ... watching, listening, learning and, ultimately, caring deeply for them all. Now in his final days, Sweet Gum invites us to share his memories as he reminisces about his many encounters with humans, his Unsuspecting Friends.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMichael Shaw
    Release dateFeb 6, 2019
    ISBN9780463880227
    Unsuspecting Friends
    Author

    Michael Shaw

    By profession, Mike is a professional musician, working as a keyboard player and private music teacher. Mike has been teaching piano, electronic keyboard and electric organ for over thirty years and as a keyboard player worked in many night clubs and entertainment venues. Mike has also branched out in to composing music and has written and recorded many new royalty free tracks which are used worldwide in TV, film and internet media applications. "My favourite piece of music is "Music" by John Miles, it describes how my life has been and continues to be, I consider myself very lucky" Mike is also proud of the fact that many of his students have gone on to be musicians, composers and teachers in their own right. "Learning to play a piano, keyboard or any musical instrument is the greatest gift anybody can gives themselves" Listen to Mikes royalty free music here: http://audiojungle.net/user/audiomichaeld/portfolio?ref=audiomichaeld See Mike playing the Roland Atelier organ on YouTube here: http://www.youtube.com/user/captinmichaeld

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      Book preview

      Unsuspecting Friends - Michael Shaw

      Prologue

      I was only a dozen plus one when they came for me the first time. Never again did I sway through summer or succumb to the loneliness of a fleeting autumn sun, or lie still in the cold hands of winter. But I sensed a different life in another place, so I wasn’t afraid. Anxious is a better word.

      I had pondered the possibilities as I watched brothers and sisters fall around me, some burning brightly as campfires, others rising in escape from chimneys down in the valley, suddenly gone forever.

      I enjoyed my early years next to Sassafras. She taught me everything. We overlooked a small town called Grayling. From the edge of our forest we watched children play and grow. I am blessed with many fond memories. I can still smell the sweet aroma of hot apple butter in late October.

      They came in the morning and by noon it was over. I ended up at Lake Windjammer where I’ve been for thirty-six years. Actually it’s more of a big pond than a lake. Windjammer is in Ohio near a place called Toledo. There are fish. More about fish later.

      So much has happened to me. Some very good things and some very sad things. For example, look at me now, chained to a Dutch Elm by fat rusty links that hang heavily around my tired old legs. Why chain me? I can’t run away! And who would want to steal an old Sweet Gum like me? It’s hard to see the children from here.

      I wish they’d take me back to the water’s edge. I wish I could smell apple butter. I wish I could see Sassafras one more time, I do miss her so. I wish my head wasn’t rotting. I wish, I wish, I wish.

      April, 1967 - The Mill

      The chopping me down wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Those first blows shivered my timbers, but Sassafras kept me talking and that helped. I miss Grayling already.

      The ride here was the worst part. I was on the bottom all the way with nothing else to do but count my rings.

      And the waiting after we arrived seemed eternal. No children to watch or listen to. I'm not used to lying down or being a bump on a log as they say.

      But now I've been stripped and trimmed and most of the real me seems to have stayed together in one pile. I'll soon be on my way to the next stop.

      February, 1968 - Still At The Mill

      How have I been? Stacked and forgotten, that’s how I’ve been! How would you be after eleven months of nothing? I’ve never been so board in my life. But they’re here now.

      So what will they make of me do you suppose now that they have finally gotten around to making something of me? I feel nails.

      A door? A floor? A shutter, a shim or a piece of trim? A wooden boat? I know I could float. A box for some toys or a bin with a latch? Maybe a fence around a cabbage patch. Perhaps a desk where the boss will sit. I hope not a bridge over a garbage pit.

      A gable, a cradle, a roof or a table? A table, that’s it. I’m a picnic table!

      A Hot Summer Night, July 1968

      I arrived in a blue pickup two weeks ago. I am surprised no one has noticed me until now. On the other hand, I am a little out of the way. I've been feeling uncertain. This is all very new to me.

      Yesterday a little girl with curly hair came by. I tried to get her attention, but she was busy chasing the ducks and sunbeams and whatever else little girls with curls chase on a summer afternoon in June. I mean July. My, the time does fly. More about those ducks later.

      It’s the following night and still very muggy and these two fellows weaving their way in my direction seem a little, a little … sloppy. That’s it. Sloppy is the word. The one with the belly is clearly the sloppier of the two. Go ahead, put your huge gluteus down on me, but don't do anything spontaneous or odiferous. Speaking of which, this chap smells like barley and hops if you know what I mean. Oh well, when you’re a beginner I guess you have deal with whoever shows up.

      He is mumbling something about Brenda. I wonder who Brenda is. Now, he’s making peculiar gestures with his large puffy hands. I’m not fully aware of what goes on between humans, but I’m sure it’s not pretty.

      Chubby’s friend is lighting something that smells odd. It's smoking, but it’s not tobacco. I have smelled tobacco and this is not it. They're passing whatever it is back and forth and getting even stupider, if that's possible. Too bad they are both beyond being aware of everything around them. Look at the sky tonight. Clear as a bell. The moon is three-quarters and the stars are twinkling through the leaves. But they can’t appreciate how peaceful it is. This moment will be lost forever unless they look up, but they can’t see straight let alone up.

      There, that’s better. The great carcass just stood up. Poor Brenda.

      That’s odd. How can my leg be getting wet under a cloudless sky? What are you doing you sloth! Go on that bush over there. This is definitely not pleasant. Sassafras would not be amused, nor am I. The other fellow seems ill. Go to the bush boy!

      They’re leaving. Finally. Goodbye.

      They are stumbling off into the night and I will now return to my loneliness here by the grapevine, thank you very much.

      Oh well, two young fools having too much fun, meaning no harm I’m sure. What’s left of this first encounter will soon blow away with the evening breeze. And my leg will eventually dry.

      Autumn, 1968

      I must have dozed off. Let me think. I remember

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