TEARING UP THE ROOTS OF GOOD WILL

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, January 5, 1992                   TAG: 9201050052
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: B1   EDITION: METRO  
SOURCE: Ed shamy
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium
TEARING UP THE ROOTS OF GOOD WILL
The dogwood tree was a branch of olive, a symbol of peace and tranquillity and good will.
It was planted the day before Thanksgiving, high on the Blue Ridge at Crowell Gap, and it was hailed as a miracle sapling, a harbinger of gentler times to come.
Each spring, dogwood petals - the state flower - would serve as a poignant reminder of what can be accomplished by minds, muscles and money working together.
The root ball was eased into a hole cut in the shale, smack dab on the border of Roanoke and Franklin counties. Diplomats from each side of the ridge - Franklin to the south, Roanoke to the north - shook hands, ending decades of rancor.
Together they planted the dogwood tree to commemorate the joint effort between neighboring counties - the springtime cleanup of a notorious illegal dump sites. Combined, business and government spent $100,000 and hundreds of man-hours on the project.
The governor himself wanted to recognize the effort that netted 33 tons of garbage and raked clean the flank of an imposing mountain. He sent as his personal representative Elizabeth Haskell, the state secretary of natural resources. The wind chill on the Blue Ridge that late afternoon was about 15 degrees and the next sunrise would bring Thanksgiving Day and the governor needs to spend more time in New Hampshire, anyhow. No need for him to come himself.
John Lester, the Franklin County administrator, astutely noted during the proceedings that the tree was actually a tad on the Franklin County side of the border.
"We'll be back later to move it," said Elmer Hodge, the Roanoke County administrator, huddled against the nippy gales.
It was a joke. Everyone laughed, and as the weak late-autumn sun eased toward the far rim of the valley, the mob piled into automobiles and snaked down the treacherous winding dirt road that led back home.
The dogwood tree stayed on the mountaintop to spend Thanksgiving alone.
It is gone now. Hodge's words have proved prophetic, but he denies any role in the disappearance of the ceremonial dogwood tree.
"Tell Elmer to take all the tinsel and the ornaments off before he brings it back," says John Lester, chuckling. "Seriously, I didn't know it was gone."
There has been no ransom demand, no contact from the treenapper. No group has stepped forward to take credit for the saplingsnatching. There have been no blurry photographs of blindfolded dogwoods, no videotapes of halting, stressed confessions from the tree.
The tree is just gone, sapping perhaps forever any hope for the restoration of the human condition. If a tree planted to commemorate peace can be nabbed root ball and all from a remote mountaintop, can other tree atrocities be far behind?
No. Far below the scene of the woodnap, on the valley floor, Roanoke City's Christmas tree was taken down on Friday. The 30-year-old Colorado blue spruce which stood in Lee Plaza was driven to an undisclosed location and run through a shredder.
Its remains will be sprinkled on somebody's garden.
The senseless slaughter of innocent trees continues unabated into the new year.
O, help us all.

by Archana Subramaniam by CNB