“Grandma, I am the rich.”
— Charles Barkley, professional basketball player, on his response to his grandmother’s complaint that Republicans were only for the rich.

“I’m reminded of something Disraeli once said to a colleague in Parliament. ‘Honorable sir, it’s true that I am a low, mean snake. But you, sir, could walk beneath me wearing a top hat.’”
– Rupert Murdoch, on rival media baron Ted Turner, who described Murdoch
as “the shlockmeister.”

SAY WHAT?

On the subject of survival, peaceful coexistence, and living to a ripe old age, here are some suggested responses to frequently asked (and danger-fraught) questions, from the Answer Man of AccessPrint’s Facts of Life newsletter:

“Do I look fat?”
The correct answer is, “Oh no! I forgot to let the dog in!” Then run out the back door and keep running. If you don’t have a dog, your only hope is, “You’re kidding, right? You look great!” Wrong answers include: a) “I wouldn’t exactly say fat.” b) “Not like your mom.”

“What are you thinking about?”
The answer is, “I was just reflecting on how much worse off I’d be if we had never met.” Obviously this bears no resemblance to what you were really thinking, which was a) how big his bald spot is getting; b) how you’d spend the insurance money if he died.

“Do you love me?”
The answer is “Yes.” If you absolutely can’t help yourself from elaborating, say, “Yes, dear.” Wrong: a) “I guess so.” b) “It depends on what your definition of love is.” c) “If I say yes, can we drop it?”

“Is she prettier than I am?”
Practice answering fast; “No way!” If you think about it for one second, you lose. Wrong answers: a) “She’s not, but that girl is.” b) “It doesn’t matter. I love you for your personality.” c) “Only because she’s younger and thinner.”

What would you do if I died?
Correct: “Life would lose all meaning, and I would hurl myself in front of the first delivery truck that came my way.” Wrong: a) “Move to Jamaica.” b) “Don’t worry—we have life insurance.”

“THE FOUR-HUNDRED-YEAR OLD TREE

The following article by Dominique Browning, editor of House & Garden magazine, first appeared in that excellent publication three years ago. It still gives pause for thought.

As I sit at my desk writing, a man in southern California is sitting in a tree, trying to save its life. By the time you read this, the fate of a 400-year-old oak will have been decided. The tree has the misfortune to be sitting in the middle of what is supposed to be a road. Why the road can’t be moved out of the tree’s way is a little unclear; that would seem the logical decision, a road being, by definition, a thing that wends its way through the landscape. The current compromise between the developers and the tree huggers is that rather than saw down the tree—the plan that drove our hero up the tree—the tree would be moved. Now, anyone who has ever transplanted any tree, to say nothing of a multi-centenarian, knows how fraught such a move can be. The root ball, which in this case will be enormous, will have to be kept intact. The move will cost about $250,000. And it could be several years before we know if the tree will survive.

Whatever the fate of the California oak, this is an old chestnut of a story. What is the matter with us? Why can’t we appreciate—and be grateful for—such wizened and beautiful life? Once upon a time, all across the ancient lands of Sweden, Ireland, England, Italy, Greece, and even North America, trees were considered sacred beings of the highest order. We learn from Sir James Frazer’s The Golden Bough that tree worship was so serious among the Germans that the punishment for stripping the bark off a trunk was dire “…a life for a life, the life of a man for the life of a tree.”

Of course, not all old trees are worth preserving; there is plenty of junk in the tree kingdom. Yet, every time I read about another noble tree being killed, I think we have gone too far in our disregard for their lives. They have become worthless. They are unprotected, vulnerable to the whims of whoever takes hold of their plot of land. In some suburban neighborhoods, there is a whopping $100 fine for cutting down a tree. But flip thorough the Christie’s auction catalogs for sales of 400-year-old English, American or Continental furniture. The sale of the Joseph and Bathsheba Pope Valuables Oak Cabinet, made in Salem, Massachusetts, dated 1679, set a world record for a piece of seventeenth-century American furniture at about $2,400,000. Or how about a very simple three-legged oak stool from the early seventeenth century, recently sold in London for 23,500 pounds.

How do we set the value of a tree, compared to that of a commode? Of course there is artistry and imagination and craft in the making of a piece of furniture. But a tree is a living thing. Trees record our progress through time. They record the pattern of our rainfalls and droughts and freezes. They’re home to countless songbirds—well, we don’t seem to have taken such good care of them, either.

I’m grateful to the tree huggers. I hope our carelessness doesn’t send too many more people up the trees. Since we’ve figured out how to set the price on a piece of oak furniture, perhaps we can figure out the value of an ancient tree. I doubt that we’re prepared to say that the hand of man, in making a three-legged stool, is infinitely more valuable than the hand of God.”