Our old lake house was surrounded by tall pines.  These trees were approximately 30 years old and between a 1 ½ to 2 feet in diameter.  Unfortunately some were growing right up next to the house.  The fellow that put a new roof on for us recommended a friend of his that was an excellent tree cutter.  I hesitate to say lumberjack because I’ve never met a lumberjack and don’t know that they exist in our part of the world.

    The guy came over one afternoon and I walked through the yard with him pointing out the trees I wanted cut.  I don’t remember how much we agreed upon, but it was a very reasonable sum.  It was a total of about eight trees, three of which were within two feet of the house.  He told me that he’d come back on Saturday to start work.  At that time I was working every Saturday and I told him that he could just start when he got there and I’d be home in time to pay him by the time he finished.

    I worked until noon that Saturday and got home about an hour later.  When I drove up the guy was sitting on a cross tie up by the road holding his head in his hands and a tree was lying across the corner of the house.  It wasn’t even one of the trees that were close to the house.  I jumped out of the car and strode over to him looking at the damage.  I yelled, “I could have done that!  But I’m PAYING you!”  He got up and made some lame excuse that his buddy’s kids had borrowed the chainsaw and it was dull.  I could tell that he’d been drinking but there were no signs of it...other than the tree lying on the house.  He promised he’d fix the damage as soon as possible.  After a few more words, he left.

    The guy that had put our roof on came by a little later and just shook his head.  He said he’d make sure that it got fixed.  He put a tarp on it and apologized again before leaving.   Late that afternoon it started raining (as would be expected when you have a hole in the roof) and my sister had come over to see the damage.  You could hardly get in the front door because the top of the felled tree was all over the front porch roof and walkway.  We were inside when there was a knock at the front door.  I went out and it was the drunken tree cutter.  Obviously he had decided to go drown his sorrows a little more because this time he was stumbling drunk.  He started insisting that he was going to cut the rest of the trees down.  I told him that it wouldn’t be necessary and my only concern at the time was getting his previous “work” fixed.  Then he got belligerent and started with the “Well, by God I said I was going to cut them down and by God I’m gonna cut them down.” At this point I told him it would be in his best interest to leave and that he wasn’t going to be cutting anymore trees on my property.  Amazingly, he left.

    The next morning the whole gang showed up; men, women, children and babies.  The only thing missing was the family dog.  There was some wormy looking old guy with them they called “The Dutchman”.  He seemed to be the brains of the bunch.  The Dutchman took a few measurements and sent a couple of people to get supplies.  While supplies were being fetched, the rest of the gang ascended to the roof and started ripping off shingles and cutting back the busted decking.  The tree cutter mostly watched from the ground.  A couple of people manned the chainsaw and cut the downed tree into manageable chunks.

    Before long the rest of the gang came back with the goods and they started the repair in earnest.  This time the tree cutters wife was with them and started helping pick up debris.  She apologized to me for all the inconvenience and was steadily picking up shingles, wood and limbs while the perpetrator stood and watched.  I felt so bad for her.  It was one of those moments when you feel guilty because your life is obviously better than someone else’s.   I wanted to tell her to stop and that I’d finish cleaning up.  But I didn’t.

    Before long the repairs were complete, the yard was fairly cleared of debris and they were ready to leave.  I figured up the amount I owed him for the trees that he cut and made the check out in his wife’s name.  I hope that she beat the ever-lovin' shit out of him when they got home.