Strings

Botanical gurus think oranges are the fruit that fall from the Tree of Life. There may be credence to this thought. But often they come with too many strings attached.

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This morning I’m having an orange for breakfast to test the merit of this fact. It takes an eternity to pull its strings off. Everything comes with strings attached.

Age teaches that the Tree of Life produces its own share of strings. Its garden is a phantom of mythic proportions. It grows tares along with wheat. Like the proverbial box of chocolates, one knows only when they take a bite.

It takes on the same aura of Ponce de Leon’s Fountain of Youth, said to be located in the vicinity of Tallahassee, FL. Having grown up nearby, I can assure you that Tallahassee is noted for producing short-lived, pontificating politicians who do Botox and who occasionally run for President.

The Tree of Life is dangerous. In fact, most trees are dangerous. Some have found themselves hanging by the neck from one. Quick adjudication avoids stringing justice along. Of course, these unfortunates would have observed it from a safe but ethereal distance. Be careful what you eat from this tree.

Based on the consequences of its fruit, one might suspect the gardener had ulterior motives in planting it in the center of the orchard. I’ll bet it was of the genus of Kardashian, a seductive Venus robed in leaf’s clothing that sheds regularly.

It probably produced beautiful but provocative blossoms in the spring, like the cherry trees in Washington. Beauty often disguises the dangers inherent in the allure of perfume and glamour, not to mention the perilous but captivating political prigs who wear baggy pant suits.

There’s a perpetuating myth about the first person who set foot in this particular garden. Rumor has it that a female was the culprit who ill-advisably set into motion this current world’s mess. Just rumor. Had there been emails in this era, she would probably have kept hers on a secret server. Red lipstick and illicit cash keep a lot of strings hidden.

Poetic license can expose a lot of strings. But like the string of consequences from most lusty appetites, there’s always a willing co-conspirator. In balancing the debacle and casting blame equitably, remember that the dumb farmer gobbled up his share of the enchanting orange, strings and all.

‘Dumb farmer’ is a condescending term. It’s best applied in rare instances where innuendos suggest culpability. There’re many kinds of farmers. Fish farmers, worm farmers, peanut farmers and Colorado seed farmers. A few farmers even sow words. The ‘word farmers’ are not agronomists of this genre. Colorado crops notwithstanding, they know that speaking fees produce lucrative cash crops with less work than anything else.

All oranges, of course, are covered with a thick, but pliable skin. Ostensibly this is for protection from enemy. Everything has enemies. Just today, for example, the paper carrier entered this category. Not only is the news in the shrubs again, but it was bathed by an irrigation sprinkler. This should be the fate of most news these days.

Some orange skins are relatively easy to peel. Such is the thick-skinned but malleable Mandarin orange I’m currently enjoying. Unlike its cousins, the thin-skinned navels, the Mandarin sheds its clothing almost as fast as a nudist peels off for the pool.

The thin-skinned variety reminds me of certain people---usually small and full of seeds. Not all seeds are bad. The medicinal Colorado seeds, for example. Like pharmaceuticals, they come with long strings attached.

But orange seeds, well, they’re only good for one thing—spitting. Like melons, eating these oranges requires a lot of it. Young boys love to spit. Girls have not perfected the technique. It’s a necessary male rite of passage from puberty.

As boys age they ape adult men and tote pocket knives. Carving a hole in an orange allows one to suck out the juice. It’s the shortcut to avoid the seeds inside. Reminds one of the great sucking sounds of government entitlement programs. The public treasury is good compost. Just saying.

It’s tempting to peel away the layers of things and expose the strings attached. Money, prestige, power, beauty, lust…but why? Knowing too much is often a curse.

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Strings are attached to everything. We have no choice in the matter. Life comes packaged this way.

And come to think about it, so does Love. For better or worse, take it or leave it.

Bud Hearn
June 26, 2015