I have an old friend who has long since passed away from this life we have come to appreciate under the face of the sun. Over 30 years have passed, but I remember his continence and his smile and his strong character lines emerging from beneath the full white beard and mustache expanding ear to ear. Those were lines most of us call scars. And he had a receding hair line at the top of his crown, obviously due to wearing his favorite seasonal hat each year.
That was proof enough for me he had certainly lived a very intriguing life. He had served in both World War I and World War II, a very seasoned veteran.
When I met Jessie, he was well into his eighties, no longer wearing uniforms, but back home on native soil wearing Liberty overalls and rubber boots.
More than 50 years my senior, Mr. Ferguson was homesteading property of which he was so proud of with fruit trees strategically placed all around. Jessie was doing what he loved--farming and living off the land.
I realized I had a lot to learn from him. Often, I would stop by his place and converse about small things. His voice was brassy and yet mixed in baritone. I really loved hearing him speak about old times back when things were simpler. Jessie was a tall, wide, pear-shaped man. Each day I would stop by to salute him and ask how he was doing. He would have a slight look of caution and say, ‘I’m good!’
Instead of seeing blue overalls, I would be imagining red pants, a red coat, large black belt and matching boots and a fleet of local deer at his disposal. He always reminded me of Santa Claus, but I never told him what I was thinking.
There was one fruit tree that aways stood out among all the other trees on his property--an American Chestnut tree. I admired it over the years since Jessie’s passing, but I had not tasted its fruit.
One day I was driving by his place, and a young girl was standing under the tree picking up the fruit that had fallen to the ground. I stopped and asked her if there were any good ones that she was gathering. She said, “They are hard to pick up. They keep pricking my hands. A lot of fruit has already been taken, probably eaten by the squirrels.”
We made a deal between ourselves to keep watch of the tree and its harvest time. To this day, I have not eaten my first chestnut from that tree. However, a friend called me this September asking about chestnuts, wanting to know if I knew where they could find some. I told her that I did, but I am not sure if they would be gatherable for harvest or not. I told her where the tree was located, and she said she knew of that same tree. Then she asked me If I had ever eaten from the tree before, and I told her no. To my surprise, she stated she would pick for the harvest a portion for me and deliver.
I had not eaten chestnuts since I was a child during the Christmas and New Year holidays decades ago. Oh, how that brought back memories. An old song came to my mind, written by Bob Wells. The year was 1945 on a hot July summer day in California. His friend, Mr. Mel Torme,’ stepped into his house as the door was open. Mel called Bob to no answer. Then Mel walked up to the piano and saw on the music board four lines of a verse.
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire... Jack Frost nipping at your nose... Yuletide carols being sung by a choir... And folks dressed up like Eskimos...
When Bob finally walked into the room, dressed in tennis shorts and a T-shirt, Mel asked him about the little poem. His response was, “It’s so d___ hot today, I thought I’d write something to cool myself off. All I could think of was Christmas and cold weather.”
The “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” image was a memory from Bob’s childhood in Boston when there’d been vendors on the street corners at Christmas serving up paper cones full of roasted chestnuts.
Mel said, “I think you have something here.” At the piano, in less than 45 minutes, they composed the Christmas song.
A year later, in the fall of 1946, Nat King Cole made it famous. The last line of the bridge: “To see if reindeers really know how to fly,” keeps all ages captivated during the holiday season.
To me, the song is beautiful, warming our hearts to the expectations of the season and the right New Year state of mind.
Historically, chestnuts are synonymous with Christmas and New Year festivals. Since the turn of the 19th century, there has been a devastating loss of approximately four billion American Chestnut trees due to Chinese Blight because of the introduction of Japanese Chestnut trees that carried a fungus the American Chestnut trees could not endure.
Today, if you see a chestnut tree, it’s a rare sight to behold. Especially if it’s an American Chestnut tree.
The easiest way to determine the difference between an Asian Chestnut tree and the American Chestnut tree is the leaf and branch characteristics, as well as the fruit when it’s free of the bur shell.
The American Chestnut tree will be absent of velvet on the underside of the leaf, and the branches will have unraised spots along the stems and leader branches. And then the fruit itself will be the most determining factor, if all else is misconstrued or undetermined.
You should notice the fruit itself has velvet on the outer shell approximately three-fourths of the total girth, with at least two or three brown chestnuts within each bur when exposed from the bur shell.
So fortunate was I and my brothers to have church members from the local area who always acknowledged the end of the year with gallons of chestnuts from their trees before the blight hit here in Alabama. I can remember the year our church superintendent informed us we would not have any future chestnuts because her trees had been infected.
I was approximately 15 years old. Now I am retired. That’s how long it’s been since American Chestnut trees have been extinct along the eastern banks of the Mississippi River all the way up the eastern shoreboard of the United States.
The young girl I saw under Jessie’s tree picking chestnuts reminded me of the difficulties of trying to harvest premature fruit as she stated the fruit was hard to pick up and harvest, unless it was free from the bur closure protecting it.
It’s hard to beat the nature of things. Chestnuts exposed to the ground present a small window of time to harvest before nature takes its course. Over 60 different types of insects, birds and animals depend on the fruit for survival. And then there is man.
I don’t know how many of you have ever tried to pick up a chestnut while still in the closure of the bur shell, but it’s painful! I will tell you if you haven’t done it, don’t do it unless you’re wearing thick gloves.
Like so many other things in life, we are pricked by surprise. Then there are times when we are served retribution for our mischievous ways.
Much was the case with Paul on the Damascus Road when Jesus confronted him with these words in Acts 9:5 - “I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: It is hard for thee to kick against the goads.”
Goads were like thorns and used to guide and discipline oxen in agriculture. The more the beast of labor would kick against them, the more severe the injury of unruliness.
I hope and pray each of us will be humble enough to be forgiving, thankful and truthful to each other seeking peace and goodwill toward all men as we approach the New Year.
Find a good word to say to someone. Find a beautiful song for someone to hear. Find time to do something for somebody who’s not expecting anything. Find your quiet place before you go out to celebrate.
Finally, my friends, don’t goad those who are burry (having or containing burs; prickly).
I assure you, it will hurt. If you’re fortunate enough to enjoy the sweetness of the American Chestnut tree, remember it’s very rare. Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year!
See complete story in the Journal Record.
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