This morning I attended the monthly meeting of the municipal tree board, of which I am a member. I don't have any particular knowledge or expertise to qualify me as a member of that renown body except that the chairman, who holds the title of city forester, lives one block down. I often encounter Art as he walks his dog in the morning and as I am taking my dog-less walk. My sense is that he has decided that I am appropriate for membership on the tree board simply because his dog seems to tolerate me ever so easily. Another tree board member lives one block over, and we often make garbage and recyclable disposal a joint activity. Howard is also supportive of my membership on the board probably related to my tolerance for garbage. I have been known to fire up a chainsaw in my backyard on occasion and, more importantly, there are trees remaining in my back, as well as front yard. That may give me some street creed with the tree board folks. It speaks well of one to be known as a pruner and not a logger.

There are four members of the tree board from the city's third ward out of a total of seven members.  Clearly the third ward is over-represented. Either the city council ignored that imbalance or decided it was not pertinent when they approved my appointment to the board. I do have a letter from the city clerk informing me that the common council approved my mayoral appointment to the tree board. The letter makes no mention of the rights and privileges associated with the position, so I can only assume that a second letter is forthcoming.

One item on this morning's agenda was the selection of tree cultivars to be purchased for this spring's planting. I realized I was reaching when I suggested shrubbery of some kind to improve the appearance of a key corner and to stabilize a steep bank. The chairman took the suggestion in stride and noted that it was worth considering. Howard, on the other hand, stated in jest that he wanted nothing to do with a tree and shrubbery board; he only wants to be known as a member of the tree board. There was no further discussion of the topic, but I am quite confident that the chairman will order dwarf lilac or something similar for the area in question. Later in the day, I sent Howard an email admitting that I may well be stature sensitive and attributed his comment to his six foot plus frame. Furthermore, whether something is a tree or not has little to do with height. The dictionary describes tree as a woody perennial with a single stem and branches. Shrub is included in the definition more-or-less as a synonym.

I went on to chide Howard--friends can get away with such nonsense--that the Land of Little Sticks is a case in point. Drawing a comparison to the relative differences in our heights, I noted that small or dwarf trees have their rightful place in a northern clime. Pursuing this logic I went on to suggest that short folks may be more native to the local area than taller folks, which makes the latter an interloper--an invasive subspecies, if you will. I have yet to hear back from Howard, I suspect that he is crafting an ingenious repartee. Or he simply may have better things to do than humor me.

I do have a comeback in the ready. I will argue that the inclusion of understory species in our plantings is most appropriate.

Four Wisconsin stories have made the national news this past week. Number 1: (and in no particular order) Governor Walker's 2016 presidential primary campaign. Number 2: the passage of right to work legislation by the legislature and the governor's signature on the same. Number 3: the death of T. Robinson, a 19-year old Madison resident. And number 4: the Slenderman homicide case where the two accused 12-year olds are being charged as adults. (Wisconsin law states that anyone age 10 or older accused of a serious crime is to be charged as an adult. The court can be petitioned to return the case to juvenile court. Those petitions, as in this case, are often not successful.)

I have a sense that there is a common thread to these four stories, but I am at a loss to put it into words. Here is my attempt to do just that: when it comes to individual responsibility the state will hold its citizens to that standard to the nth degree even when the citizen in question is a pre-teen 12-year old or a troubled 19-year old young adult. Employees are to be free of supposedly onerous union dues and left without a workplace advocate. Are we not making a mockery of individual responsibility?

What might it mean when one grows up in a family where ring bologna and liverwurst were considered "treats"? What more might it mean when one marries a woman who also considers liverwurst a "treat" and who insists on referring to farm sausage as ring bologna? (I will concede that there may be no substantive difference between ring bologna and farm sausage except for a minor difference in appearance and a name designed as a marketing ploy.)

Extrapolate these observations how you will. To say the least, there is consistency on my part. It may also explain, in part, why this marriage has passed the 43 year mark and continues on towards number 44. I also know enough to bring home a treat now and again. Yesterday was one of those now and again days. A chunk of liverwurst was the impulse buy of the day. It resulted in a more effusive reaction than some of my previous gifts. Now what does that say?