If Trees Could Talk

I grew up just outside of Detroit. There was a golf course down the street from where I lived. It was the winter of 1973 and I had received a gift I had longed for from my parents for Christmas - my first 35 mm camera.

One of my initial excursions with my camera was a walk to the golf course at the end of the street. I remember there was still a fair amount of snow on the ground. I walked through the course taking pictures of anything that drew my attention. I was blazing through film so fast. Then I came upon a tremendous white oak tree and took some photos.

When I got home and developed the film, the photo of this tree almost looked black and white since the tree's dark trunk and branches were a contrast to the light gray sky and white snow. It became one of my favorite photos - in fact, it's still hanging in my office today.

Last summer, I called the golf course to see if the tree was still there. It was, and the course was kind enough to let me visit and walk out to the tree. I took a new photo of the oak - this time in full leaf. There was a plaque on the ground beside the tree explaining that it dated back to revolutionary war times.

Every time I look at this photo, it takes me back. It reminds me of my old neighborhood and a younger time in my life. My dad used to frequently golf at this course, so it also reminds me of him. And, most of all, it's an example of one of my earliest endeavors into photography - a hobby that I've loved ever since.