BROKEN BUT NOT BEATEN

Rex Burress

 

Falling can be a serious problem for people, especially seniors during the slick wintertime, and especially back in my icy Midwest homeland.

 

Ah, blessed youth when most kids seemed impervious to broken bones, and ice and snow was sliding time for a boy on the farm! You could go sprawling but get back up! For me, the big freeze was fun time, although I can't say that 80 years later. After an ice storm on the sloping barnyard, Dad could slide clear from the barn to the house—on his bottom and not on purpose!

 

It seems new broken bone reports come quite often from the East that has had some cold, icy storms in 2018, and although Feather River Country has had some chills, I hadn't seen any icy puddles prior to February 20—yet--that in previous years provided some crisp photography. Although people can't grow new limbs as some salamanders can, broken bones can mend as long as you have all the parts, Orthopedic Surgeon Dr. Blackman of Oakland once said when a hiking lady fell and shattered her ankle into 17 “corn flakes!”

 

While working at the Oakland Lake Merritt Wildlife Refuge, we were constantly dealing with broken bird wings or legs. Since an injured bird had the protection of the sanctuary and was protected from predators, they could live on for a long time there, in spite of what our veterinarian Dr. Harris said about “A bird without a wing is not a bird.” But the golden eagle with one wing lived on for years in a spacious cage, thrilling kids with its majestic beak, and giving people a close-up they could never hope for in the wild. Taxidermy is one thing but a live animal is another. Thus we have Audubon clubs and field trips and photographers and artists trying to portray a view of the wonders of life.

 

I was hiking once in Sunol's Sycamore Gulch when I found a gallant old sycamore broken in half with the wind-blown section sprawled in the rocky stream bed. The rooted snag was continuing to support leaves, and the story of “broken but not beaten” was so dramatic that I did an oil painting of the scene. Since then I have found numerous examples of that gallant resurgence and the will to hold on to life under less than ideal conditions.

 

Thus I was impressed with Pete Seegar's song “God Bless the Grass” back in the 1960's. “...They roll the concrete over it, and try to keep it back./The concrete gets tired of what it has to do;/It breaks and it buckles and the grass grows through...” I have an entire slide show depicting examples of grass and plants growing in unusual places under extra adversity. “Grass is the forgiveness of nature,” said poet John Ingalls. “Oh, the glorious, all-protecting trees,” said poet Joaquin Miller.

 

On the Table Mountain plateau, a few scattered Valley Oaks grow on the inhospitable basaltic ridges and in the ravines, including the lone giant near the parking lot. The giant has a secret that keeps it healthy and intact: Its roots intermingle with a large water-filled cavity gouged under the basalt that is also the key to maintaining a miniature marsh next to the tree. You can stomp beneath the tree and hear a hollow sound.

 

The long-lived trees diminish slowly, losing a few limbs at a time, limbs that linger at the base, while the remaining growth struggles on for years, the leaves drawing just enough nourishment to maintain the woody system. “Broken but not beaten,” that can be applied to the human condition, too!

 

the beauty of the living.” --John Muir