MY CHIFOLERA TREE

I have a 35-year-old chifolera tree that was ailing
with no leaves, but thanks to stuff from my local
Southern States store is blooming today like you
cannot believe. I'm counting 45 new stems and leaves,
and the tree is glorying in our Virginia autumn sun,
and taking over the room as usual.

Some admissions: This tree was a gift from the
National Botanic Garden, which delivered plants to
members of Congress in the various U.S. House and
Senate office buildings when I was chief aide to
Congressman Eldon Rudd from Arizona.

The cart came around to the first floor of the
Longworth House Office Building, down from the House
Ways and Means Committee offices. The chifolera was in
a little pot, I picked it out, and have
loved and nurtured it ever since.

When we had a pony farm in Front Royal, Virginia, the
cats used the chifolera plant vase as a toilet. The
plant almost died. But the Southern States guy in
Front Royal said to put smooth stones in the plant
vase over the top soil because the cats wouldn't like
the rocks. Sure enough, they stopped peeing on the
chifolera.

The tree thrived. After my move to Phoenix, Arizona,
to write my book, "Journalism Is War," the tree failed
again. More plant food stuff, this time from Home
Depot way down west Indian School Road in Phoenix. The
tree bounced back.

When I drove back  from Arizona to Virginia with my
furniture and clothes in a Penske truck, across New
Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Tennessee, the
chifolera had another heart attack and almost died.
But those little food sticks and constant watering
saved it again. Woomba. Thanks be to God.

Care and love for a plant is like care and love for a
mate. It is constant, and no let-up allowed.

I count every lovely leaf on my chifolera tree as a
blessing, just as I count each of my four daughters a
blessing. I love this tree and its resilience to all
that has happened over the past 35 years since the
people from the National Botanic Gardens delivered it
to me in the Longworth House Office Building on
Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C. My token gift at
taxpayers expense.

Who would have guessed such a little plant at the time
would become a man's best friend for 35 years? Well,
it happened.

Some thoughts:

• A tree doesn't talk back. You nurture it, love it,
grow it, but it doesn't give you any static.

• People are different. At times they want you there
for them, doing everything for them, and other times
they want you to stay way, get out of their lives. But
constant nurture and love are important both for
plants and people.

• There's a boy-thing, girl-thing. Boys like me enjoy
taking care of their girl. Girls today say stay away
from me. Don't touch me. I don't want you. My
chifolera tree wants and needs me, and I know. Same
with the neighborhood cats. They all know I'm good for
a bowl of water and bickies, so they're in my garden
every day. Same with the birds who love my food nests
on the tree boughs. What does that say about our human
condition?

• People have become too self-possessed and
egocentric. Unlike my chifolera tree that blooms new
leaves daily, most people around us do not bloom but
make selfish demands that are often untenable when it
comes to another person's emotional, financial and
practical abilities. Who wants to put up with carping
users and selfish abusers?

• Everyone needs to get a grip and realize and give
credit that the loving and giving person next to them
has worth, and maybe not up to their constant
utilitarian and consuming expectations. But they try,
and failure to justify everyone's selfish needs and
expectations does not make one any less worthy.

My chifolera tree today is shining green with lots of
new branches and leaves, thanks to tender loving care.
And as I look at it and love it, I know that I am
worthy.

Thanks be to God.