Planting a Tree as a Living Legacy

Last week, the NYTimes ran an article with a headline which read: A Wine Legacy, Famous and Unheralded. It was about the passing of Steven Spurrier, a quiet, understated man but also a wine icon. Perhaps Steven was best known for having organized a blind tasting in Paris of California versus French wines.   The 1976 tasting, referred to as the” Judgement of Paris,” shattered the wine world.  Why? Because the California Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon wines selected for the competition bested the French submissions.

In addition to this historical event, Steven will be remembered for other things: for writing several award-winning books and for starting Bride Valley Vineyard in Dorset, England which produces a sparkling wine.  (Yes, a British sparkling wine which is remarkably delicious, too.) With his long career in the wine world, Steven left behind a legacy as described by NYTimes wine critic Eric Asimov of “wine writer, educator, and provocateur.”

This idea of a legacy—leaving behind something for people to remember you by when you are gone—recently resurfaced in my mind. As many readers know, I lost my husband, Ed Lauber, two years ago.  Like Steven, Ed’s universe was wine.  Ed left behind a rich legacy of a wine company he had built from scratch, a vineyard in Montepulciano d’Abruzzo named after him, and a reputation for honesty, integrity, and love of life. While all this might seem more than enough for one individual, I wanted to honor his memory in a more personal way.

Mulling all this over in my head, I thought back about several people I had known who were immortalized in unique ways. One of my favorites occurred at a memorial for the successful New Jersey attorney, businessman and community leader, Donald Jones. His 1994 service took place at the Prallsville Mill, in Stockton, New Jersey in a building along the Delaware River which dated back to the late 1700s. Over time this former grist mill had fallen into disrepair. In the late 1960s Jones purchased the historic structure and helped launch a campaign for its restoration.  

Everyone in attendance at Jones’ service was aware of his contributions as an ardent preservationist (he was a past president of the New Jersey Conservation Foundation) and generosity to multiple local causes.  But that day, the takeaway was also about his debonair flair. As we entered the mill, we were met with an explosion of brightly colored pieces of fabric decorated with polka dots, stripes, and plaids. What was this, we wondered? Then we remembered that Jones was never without one of his signature bow ties.  His family had decided to remember him by tying his entire collection of more than a hundred silk bow ties to tree branches held in large containers.  Guests were invited to take a tie home in his memory. This simple yet effective touch evoked the human side of Donald Jones, a great man but also a dapper dresser.   

Americans have endless ways for keeping their deceased ever present in their minds. Some ways are more imaginative than others. For example, we’ve created Memory Bears made from the clothes left behind after someone dies. Or, with the help of the US Postal Service, we’ve designed stamps with a portrayal of our loved one. But there is a caveat here. You need to wait five years after someone’s death before producing a stamp for them.  For others, there is the tradition of memorial tattoos. An added flourish for some is to mix in cremated remains with the ink used for RIP tattoos to immortalize an individual.  

However, I had something less creepy in mind. I was looking for a less dramatic but equally memorable way to keep Ed’s legacy alive.  As it happened while walking through Central Park last month, I came across a banner imprinted with the hashtag #mycentralpark on it. Later in the day looking on Central Park’s website I discovered a wide range of topics including information on creating a living memory for an individual.

My curiosity was piqued.  I learned that the Central Park Conservancy’s Women’s Committee offered a program called the Tree Trust.  Its mission was to care for the existing trees (over 18,000 and counting!) and pay for the planting of new ones.  Multiple options were offered from funding a sapling to a family of trees.  I landed on endowing “A Remarkable Tree” meaning one already established but hopefully, with many more years left to thrive.

Without hesitation, I entered my credit card. Based on the information provided I knew the Conservancy would contact me to set up an appointment with an arborist to help choose Ed’s tree. Over my long life, I’ve met many interesting people from different walks of life and different professions. But, meeting an arborist was a first.  Being an avid gardener, I was excited beyond belief.

The few days later Stormy McNair, the Women’s Committee Fundraising Manager, called on behalf of the Central Park’s Tree Trust program.  We arranged an appointment for the following day to meet not just one but two young arborists, Patrice and Becki. When we all gathered in the park, I was struck by the contrast between Stormy’s appearance with that of Patrice and Becki.  Stormy was fashionably attired in a beige raincoat with a matching beret and a striking zebra designed scarf around her neck. In comparison, the two arborists sported Central Park Conservancy black jackets, logoed grey woolen caps pulled low over their foreheads to keep warm, and sensible shoes. Madison Avenue meets LL Bean.  Introductions were made, then the fours of us began our search for the perfect tree. 

Criteria for the selection was agreed upon:  First, the tree needed to have sufficient ageing potential so that Ed’s grandchildren’s children could visit it one day. Second, it had to be in a location with some meaningful significance to Ed’s life.  Given Ed had done multiple New York City marathons, I opted to start our hunt at Tavern on the Green, the race’s finish line.

After rejecting several potential trees in the vicinity, Patrice suggested we take a walk to continue our investigation.  He pulled out his iPad to look for trees which might be available near the Marathon finish line. Patrice then led us to a stately, 30-year-old London Plane Tree on the crest of a small hill near Tavern on the Green. It was surrounded by several other smaller trees of different species almost like a friendly grouping of diverse friends surrounding the Plane Tree.  In the background you could also see a bit of cityscape with the tall buildings on 57th Street rising in the sky.

In addition to its marathon connection, this London Plant Tree was near the entrance of Sheep Meadow at 66th Street.  Most New Yorkers recognize this Central Park location as the 15-acre field where summer concerts are held.  During the early years of our marriage, Ed and I spent many August evenings picnicking with friends on the lawn while listening to the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. Talk about location, location, location. 

The London Plane Tree looked promising. I asked Fabrice and Becki about its attributes, trying to appear inquisitive but actually feeling emotionally overwhelmed with its apparent double connections with Ed’s life.

Patrice explained that a London Plane Tree is a hybrid: a crossing between two sycamore species, Asian and American. A fast-growing tree, the London Plane Tree typically gains several feet in height per year. It is a resilient tree which can be planted in poor soil and doesn’t requires a lot of water. 

I examined the tree’s winter bark running my hands over its exterior as if I were purchasing an expensive coat and making sure the fabric was of good quality. Its handsome dappled bark with red-brown, green, and creamy hues resembled today’s trendy “army fatigue” design used in so many fashions.  I later learned that the peeling bark promotes a resistance to parasites and insects. It also helps the tree cleanse itself of urban pollution which meant that the tree I had selected could thrive in Manhattan.

“Does the tree flower in spring?” I asked Fabrice. He responded with an authoritative “Yes.” However, he couldn’t remember what it looked like.  As he checked his iPad, he continued his mini lesson explaining that London Plane Trees are unisexual meaning that both male and female flowers occur on the same tree.

How intriguing, I thought to myself.  When Patrice found a photo of the spherical clusters, we discovered that the male seed pods were yellow in color while the female were red. Becki and I locked eyes. We both had the same expression of horror on our faces.  Then I exclaimed, “The female flowers bear an eerie resemblance to the red, crown-like spikes of the Coronavirus, don’t they?”

Beside this unexpected shock, Patrice and Becki continued with more interesting details about London Planes in order to distract me.  They explained that the tree is planted widely in France and in England where it originated in the 16th century. The Plane Tree was initially planted along London streets during the industrial revolution, when the air was black with smoke and soot. These are tough, long-lived trees many of which survive to this day in London. Well, that definitely means criteria #1 was met!

In the 19th century, the trees made their way to Southern France. In fact, one does not travel and explore Provence without noticing its beautiful, omnipresent London Plane Trees. They line country roads and are the focal point of many town squares where they offer umbrella-like shade in the summer. In Paris, too, the trees provide beautiful foliage along grand boulevards as well as in quiet neighborhood parks.

I liked this connection with England and France as Ed and I had spent considerable time in both countries for work and play.  The choice of tree and location was settled.  It was like interviewing a potential candidate for a job.  The tree had all the necessary requirements plus a few unexpected features.  It was easy to find and very handsome.

When I went back subsequently to reconfirm how much I liked the tree, I noticed that people would frequently gather under it to picnic. As picnicking was one of our favorite pastimes, it was reassuring to know there would be company for Ed’s tree.  Without a doubt, this was the perfect tree for creating a living legacy for Ed. 

As part of the Tree Trust program, endowments are recognized with black granite paving stones. These are installed at the southern end of the Mall—also known as “Literary Walk”—near the Statue of Christopher Columbus.  Ed’s plaque will read:   

London Plane Tree

in honor of Ed Lauber

2019

Drink with the Angels

Should endowing a tree be of interest, you can visit centralparknyc.org/trees, email trees@centralparknyc.org or call 212-310-6617.