Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, November 12, 1993 TAG: 9311120007
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
9:06 a.m. The annual search for the Roanoke Christmas tree, which will stand through the holiday season in Lee Plaza, is on. I am concerned about giving my employer my fullest productivity this day and plan to put in some extra hours to compensate.
9:15 a.m. Marilyn Arbogast, Dan Henry and Laban Johnson - the parks and rec crew - pull into Dunkin Donuts for their first visit of the day. I plead with them to move forward with the tree search rather than spending time all day in the doughnut shop. They scoff.
9:39 a.m. We have a list of the people who've called to generously offer large trees on their land to be chopped down, that the city might have a Yuletide centerpiece. Our first stop is a white pine in Southwest that is a tad wispy. I want to knock on the door to thank the taxpayer for offering the tree, at no cost, to the city. The city workers, still sucking on coffee and popping Munchkins, laugh me off. We leave without thanking anyone.
9:57 a.m. Again in Southwest, we stop to see another white pine. Its trunk is too thick to properly stand in Lee Plaza. The city workers drop their napkins and coffee cups on the lawn. I scurry to pick up the trash before they burn rubber down the quiet residential street.
En route to our next stop, they threaten to feed me into a leaf shredder.
10:17 a.m. In Southeast, we see a white pine that's far too small and has dual trunks.
10:29 a.m. We stop for gasoline at the city garage in Northwest. A bit of gasoline spills from the nozzle. They laugh. I'm concerned for the environment. They tell me to open my window for fresh air and they drive the van through the city's automatic car wash. I get wet. They laugh.
10:47 a.m. They want to inspect a stand of sickly white pines at the Roanoke Regional Airport. To reach the trees, they walk brazenly out onto the runway, in flagrant violation of the rules of the Federal Aviation Administration. I stay in legal territory.
11:19 a.m. We check on a cedar tree in Northwest. It's a nice tree, I say. It's nothing more than a bush, they holler, and shove me into the car.
12:28 p.m. We arrive at a remote valley in Rockbridge County, between Buffalo Forge and Falling Spring. No sound but the whistle of wind and cawing crows. This is too far to send a city crew for a mere Christmas tree. It's 45 miles from Roanoke, I argue. What of the taxpayers? They threaten me with icy stares.
It's a statuesque, 35-foot-tall blue spruce tree we've come to see.
"It'd be great if it were 50 miles closer to Roanoke," admits Henry, but they're determined.
I argue for a hasty retreat to the Roanoke Valley, where there are ample trees from which to choose.
12:58 p.m. They insist on stopping for lunch in Fancy Hill. I cannot tell if they charge the exorbitantly priced lunches to their expense accounts.
2:17 p.m. We eye a 30-foot spruce tree in Blue Ridge. Perfectly shaped, within 10 miles of Lee Plaza, it's the perfect candidate.
2:24 p.m. We vote. One vote (mine) for Blue Ridge. Three votes (theirs) for Rockbridge County. They are talking about what sorts of permits they might need to haul the huge tree down Interstate 81, and who they might pay off to expedite the issuance of the permit.
2:25 p.m. I plead with them to be honest, and thrifty, and hard-working.
3 p.m. I wake up, groggy, and we are back at the city parks office. A large, tender knot throbs on the back of my head. They roll me out of the van onto the gravel lot. Their workday is through. Mine hasn't yet begun.
by CNB