If the time comes when I am able to buy a house, the first of many things I will do on principle is to build a tree house. We didn't have any mature trees on our property when I was a wee lad. In fact, we planted some tiny evergreens in the backyard when I was around 12 and I constantly mowed over them on accident because I wasn't paying attention to their tinyness. I always felt bad, too, but then just shrugged and continued on. Eventually they grew to be unimpressive dwarfed evergreens with flat tops. It was a pathetic sight to behold.
I wouldn't build this tree house for my child, even if I have one at the time. There could be no mistaking that it would be for me. If, in time, he or she wanted one of his or her own, then I would build one to suit, but next door to mine. And mine would always be nicer, just to show them who's in charge. It would have a fireman's pole for easy exits, but it would have a rope as the only means of entrance. If someone wanted to enjoy the view and lavish comforts of this arboreal mansion, then they would have to earn the right with calloused palms and sore muscles. This includes the future Mrs. de la Tromeo.
I've toyed around with the thought of having a ram shod little house atop a tree that doesn't look like much, but serves the purpose of sitting and having a think. This is all well and good, but these dreams are seed that turn into flowering ideas of unparalleled grandeur. If I'm going to haul lumber up a tree, then I might as well make it as good as I am able, and in my mind I'm capable of building the tree house version of the Taj Mahal. Its picture will adorn motivational posters and be a top downloaded wallpaper for many a business computer. Such is the elegance of my dreams that I'll probably have to hire the set designers from LOTR.
The many amenities of this upper reaches fortress of solitude would include such fashionable and manly items as a bean bag, box of water balloons and hose line from the house, chalkboard and chalk (for which to hang on the outside indicating whether girls are allowed or my current mood), a stack of comic books, flashlights, twinkies, paper and pencil, and binoculars (of course). This cliched list of boyhood items wouldn't be complete without a bb gun, either. I'm not advocating for mischief, but a guy has to be able to protect his home from foreign invaders, such as the insidious crow or badger. Raccoons and squirrels may party as long as they don't soil the place or eat anything. That's asking a lot, but this isn't an all-night truck stop, fellas.
After constructing and furnishing my dream tree house, I would then go about tending to the other necessities of home ownership, such as working so as to afford the mortgage payments. Principles are there for a reason - so we don't forget what's important in life. Let's not forget about that dude from 19th century Lawrence, KS who lived in a tree (what's his name, Mark?). He lived in a tree near a ravine in an area now known to me and a few others as a bottomless pit that leads to the blackest depths of hell. I only mention this because he must have lived by some principles, too, only they were really weird. He even walked from Lawrence to Washington D.C. for every presidential inauguration. You got to respect that, in some small way.
Sorry to end on a crazy tangent, but thems the breaks. And tree house monkey butlers for everyone!
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3 comments:
Jeff, I have to remember not to read your blog in class. It's too hard to cover up my reactions to your delicious humour.
Tree house monkey butler? Tree house monkey butler? ...Two tree house monkey butlers!
there's a book out there somewhere with blueprints for houses built in and around trees. They are all complex, modern homes, that would probably be built by someone who has too much money to throw around. At any rate, its f'n sweeet.
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