Uncle Max’s Tree
My mother and her immediate family moved about frequently when she was a child. But the last place for the clan to call home was an old country farmhouse on Glendora Road near Buchanan, Michigan. I’ve mentioned it many times before. It was a two-story frame structure standing on the crest of a hill overlooking an adjacent grape arbor and a stand of virgin woods beyond.
On any given summer day my Uncle Max was inclined to sit in the yard and, using a small penknife, carve whistles from the branches of a nearby willow tree. One afternoon, after crafting one, he took the remaining branch and simply stuck in the ground. And that was that.
For those of you who may not be all that familiar with the weeping willow tree, it is easily rooted. All one needs to do is insert a branch in the soil, as the young Max did, and make sure it gets plenty water.
And then Max shipped out to the U. S. Navy.