Letters in the Tree Nook

I changed the name of the blog today to Letters in the Tree Nook. Driving back and forth on K-10 this week gave me time to think about the whole blogging process. I was struck by how much this reminded me of the story I first heard back in grade school.

I'll have to check back to find the name, but the sixteen year old daughter of a very wealthy KC family was a troubled young lady--probably autistic from the way they described her behavior, though this occurred back in the 1920's or 1930's, so they just shielded and pampered her. Of course, back then a sweet-sixteen or coming-out party would be very popular among the wealthy, and her parents apparently went all out. When her mother asked her to mail the letters, she took them to her favorite tree, which she thought of as a spot to leave messages. Weeks later, after no one came to the party, family members found the letters nestled in the tree hole along with many other notes she had sent to fantasy friends.

This story has always haunted me--mostly for the idea of giving a party to which no one comes. I guess that element of the story struck me because of the Jimmie Henderson memory. Jimmie was probably 13 years older than me, but I can distinctly remember the night his parents invited my parents over to visit while Jimmie had a graduation party in the basement. I was real young, but I recall the "vibes" when no one--not a single person--showed. I think Jimmie knew that no one would come: he had no friends and he knew that. Unfortunately, his parents--especially his mother--saw him differently than did the rest of the world. Mortified is the only way I can think to explain his parents that night. And there we sat, Mom and Dad trying to think of something to say--

Anyway, the Jimmie story is what makes the tree story so poignant to me. But then I was thinking this week that maybe the girl didn't care. Maybe this was her mom's thing rather than hers. Maybe she didn't have any friends, except her fantasy friends, and she didn't want a party. Maybe she was just happy with her world.

That's sort of how I think about blogging--just my little world with an unlikely chance that anyone will ever find my tree or care about my party. That's great--my very own tree hole.