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Musings: Aesop and the

Wedding of Human and Natural History

by Mike Slate

Would you drive across town to visit a tree? Our priorities and busy lives seldom allow such a trek; but whether we are tree-hugging liberals or straitlaced conservatives, we all have this in common: we share this oxygenated planet with many other interdependent life forms. Although human history is the historian's normal province, all other species also have pasts--which we often ignore.

"Aesop" is the name I have given a stunning oak tree on Granny White Pike at Clifton Lane. Like the ancient and fabled fabler, our Aesop has contributed significantly to our lives, albeit in silence and relative obscurity. We take him for granted most of the time, but he has been honored at least twice. He was the champion chestnut oak in the 1994 Big Old Tree Contest sponsored by the Nashville Tree Foundation (http://www.nashvilletreefoundation.org/), and he was a 1999 entry into the Tennessee Landmark and Historic Tree Register (http://www.tufc.com/landmark.htm).

Aesop is old enough to have been present at the 1864 Battle of Nashville. Perhaps he supported weary Union or Confederate soldiers as they leaned upon him, or, tragically, maybe his roots absorbed the blood of the slain. Through the years frolicking children have no doubt played on and around him. Buxom belles and dashing males have surely enjoyed his shade and admired his grandeur. He has been home to myriad wildlife: song birds, squirrels, raccoons, insects. I wonder whether a mathematician could calculate the number of liters of oxygen Aesop has provided, or the number of lungs his breath would fill.

About twenty yards northwest of Aesop stands the distinguished Battle of Nashville Monument, which, in addition to the conflicts it so aptly commemorates, has its own illustrious history. Thus two archetypes stand juxtaposed in one small park--one of natural history and one of human history.

Historians are slow to combine the various fields of their discipline. An outstanding example is the continued segregation of the histories of white and black Americans. The historical aspects of Women's Studies is another area not often integrated into general history. Certainly the wedding of human and natural history is a rare occurrence, though Harriette Arnow's works--Seedtime on the Cumberland and Flowering on the Cumberland--are landmark exceptions.

You may never read about Aesop in a history book; nevertheless he is 150 or more years old, now standing probably with more character and majesty than ever before. His existence has become quite personal to me--as it has to others. I know from experience that standing under his northwest side will shield one from a slow rain. I usually visit him alone, since solitude is often salubrious. Somehow, though, to be alone with Aesop is to have plenty of company--suggesting that a belief in tree spirits may be more than just a primitive or romantic notion.

Like his namesake, Aesop is a teacher. He shares his woody wisdom freely, instructing us in such values as dependability and service to others. He is a visual mantra, an environmental balm, an arboreal peacenik, and a monumental survivor. If you gather the children or grandchildren and pay him a visit, he will greet you with open arms.

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