The morning was frosty but windless, and a glowing dawn promised warmth soon. Marjorie walked languidly from her apartment toward Central Avenue, looking forward to a Saturday morning coffee and momentarily forgetting a week’s worth of troubles.

The cramped coffee shop she frequented was efficient as usual and within minutes she was sipping the fervid beverage and striding optimistically toward the park. Her long-established Saturday morning routine had been a lifesaver, its fleeting placidity a balm for her mind. Finding her preferred bench unoccupied at this hour, she shivered in her coat, sat, and gazed toward the park’s primary attraction: Colonel Oak.

The tree, rumored to once shade the unmarked grave of a long-forgotten military personage of undetermined rank, grew expansively, its trunk as thick as seven men and its crown of muscular branches stretching to shade half the park. No one knew its exact age, but the town’s 150-year-old charter mentioned the oak no less than three times.

On previous Saturday mornings, Marjorie had sipped and watched the squirrels frantically fight over limb territory and acorn stashes while quiet and respectful city park employees roved, carefully trimming a twig here or checking a bird nest there.

This time was different and Marjorie saw it as soon as she sat down.

Near the base of Colonel Oak was a man. The man held an ax. Beside him on the ground was an ice chest, against which leaned a hand saw. The man raised the ax.

"Wait!" she called, standing without thinking, spilling her coffee.

Though several squirrels and two park employees looked up at her shout, the man with the ax did not seem to notice. He swung it with a grunt and sunk its carefully sharpened blade into the base of the mighty oak.

Thwunk, the ax seemed to say.

“I say there!” she called out, walking swiftly toward the now-damaged trunk. “Hold on, mister!”

The man finally looked up as he worked the ax handle to and fro in order to loosen it.

“Good morning”, he replied, seemingly cheerful and without mischief.

“What are you doing?” she scolded, gesturing angrily at the tree. “You can’t just take an ax to it.”

“That’s your opinion”, the man pointed out. “Ain’t I entitled to an opinion of my own?”

Marjorie stopped now. She was close enough to speak without shouting but not so close that a misjudged ax swing would endanger her.

“It’s nothing to do with opinions”, she told him. “The tree is public property.”

“Right”, the man agreed with a smile, finally working his ax loose. He looked at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “And I’m the public. Obviously, only a small part of the public, but a taxpayer nonetheless.”

“That’s not how public property works”, Marjorie explained quickly, trying to keep her voice calm. “One member of the public just can’t go around deciding what do with—”

Thwunk, the ax said again, biting into the meat of the oak, just below the first strike.

“What’s that?” the man asked, again working the handle to loosen the axe.

“It belongs to all of us”, Marjorie said, taking a tentative step closer to the tree.

“Oh, watch out there, miss”, the man said, holding up a hand. “I’m fairly practiced, but even I could slip. Wouldn't want you to get hurt. Safety first!”

“Don’t worry about me”, she snapped. “The tree! We’re talking about the tree. You can’t just cut it down.”

“What?” The man seemed surprised. “I’m not cutting it down. Goodness gracious. Why would you accuse me of something like that?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you one of those no-good busybodies always suspecting innocent people of things? Can’t you see I’m just testing my blade here? No one wants to hurt this tree.”

“But you’re already hurting it!” she cried.

At that moment, she became aware of a park employee stepping up beside her.

“Why don’t you calm down, ma’am”, the employee said. “You seem distraught.”

“This man’s cutting down Colonel Oak!” she said. “You need to put a stop to it. Call the police or something.”

“I’m not cutting down the oak”, the ax man repeated stubbornly. He turned to the park employee. “Would you watch out for the little lady, sir? Don’t want her too close to this blade when I swing it.”

“Good idea, sir”, the park man said. “Miss, why don’t you—”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” she nearly shrieked at him.

“Of course I can”, the park man said, surprised. “I’m authorized by the city to keep people safe here in the park. It’s important to the mayor.”

“I’M the mayor!” Marjorie said wildly, uncomfortably aware that her eyes probably looked rabid just then. “And I’m telling you to keep this man from cutting down our tree.”

“Oh! That’s different then”, the park man said, stepping back in realization.

Thwunk.

“Sir, can you stop for a moment while we talk about this?” Park Man asked Ax Man.

“Let’s talk”, the other agreed. “I can talk while I work.”

“But I need you to stop cutting down the tree for a moment.”

“Look”, said ax man, growing irritated now. “I already told the little lady twice that I’m not cutting down the tree. You want to accuse me, you file a formal complaint. Otherwise, watch out.”

“A complaint with whom?” Marjorie asked. “Also, it’s Saturday. City offices aren’t open until Monday.”

“Monday’s a holiday”, the ax man said. He allowed himself a grin of satisfaction at remembering such a thing. “So, Tuesday then. You have my word I’ll answer the complaint. I’ll answer any city official’s questions.”

He worked the ax loose and swung again. Thwunk.

“But you’ll need to stop chopping at the tree now”, Marjorie implored. “Once the tree is chopped down, it’ll be too late.”

“Still on that, eh?” the man chuckled. “Everyone who disagrees with you is cutting down this tree, am I right?”

“What? No, that doesn’t make any sense. You are actually, currently, cutting down this tree.”

“Says you.” The man swung the ax again. By now, several chunks of separated wood littered the ground next to the oak’s base. “You shouldn’t make accusations without evidence. I could just as easily accuse you of cutting down the tree. How would you like that, huh?” He stopped and looked at her, squinting. “Are you cutting down this tree? It wouldn’t surprise me, someone like you who always gets in other people’s business, thinking you run the whole town. Yeah, I think it’s you who’s cutting down the tree. If you weren’t intent on damaging the tree, then why are you so close to it? Answer me that. And why is the tree already damaged? See that damage right there? Did you do that?”

He snorted and hefted his tool again.

The park employee appeared just as confused as Marjorie about this new line of questioning.

Marjorie looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She’d encountered plenty of stubborn, difficult people during her tenure as mayor. Some, she’d never been able to please no matter how hard she tried. But she’d always worked to get to the root of the problem, always looked for a solution that would please everyone and keep the town moving forward.

But this was something different, something—

Thwunk. Another triangle shaped chunk of tree was ejected by the man’s blows.

This was something insidious, she decided. She didn’t have a name for what was going on, but it was more confusing than it should have been. The evidence was plain to see: the man with an ax, actively swinging it — there, he did it again! — actively damaging the tree. Of course, the tree was thick and strong; it had been carefully cared for through generations. It could sustain quite a bit of damage. Even with a chainsaw, she doubted the offender could fell this tree in a whole day. But every blow of the ax did a little more damage.

He wouldn’t even give a reason for his actions; that was the confusing, startling part. Most people, even people clearly in the wrong, at least offered some justification. This one plain denied the evidence that anyone could see.

By now, several other people had gathered. Marjorie felt in her pocket for her phone, but couldn’t find it. Maybe it had fallen out of her coat pocket when she stood suddenly from the bench. Instead of hurrying back to look for it, she turned to the park man.

“You have a radio. Call the police.”

The man fumbled with the electronic device clipped to his jacket, then stopped. “What do I tell them?” he asked Marjorie.

Marjorie’s eyes widened. Am I the only sane one here? she wondered.

“Tell them someone’s chopping down Colonel Oak!” she finally said. “Tell them Mayor Maples said so.”

Snickers rattled through the small crowd. “Maple? Oak?” a young man said, pointing from the tree to the mayor. “It’s funny because they’re both trees.” Then he set off into a fit of laughter.

“Oh”, said someone else slowly. “I get it now.”

Eventually the park man told the police what Marjorie suggested. While the crowd talked and waited, the ax kept swinging.

“Dude, just stop. The police are on the way”, said a nearby woman.

“Hey, it’s his right”, called out someone else. “The tree belongs to him as much as to anyone else.”

“It’s not his right”, a third cut in. “Good lord. Now you’ll tell me it’s anyone’s right to dig up a public street and install a swimming pool.”

“Why not?” another called. “If his taxes paid for it, it’s his, right?”

“All our taxes paid for it”, Marjorie corrected. “We all own the tree, together as a city. He can’t just cut it down without checking with everyone else.”

“Who’s going to stop him?” a bystander asked.

Another chimed in, “He’s not even cutting it down; he said so. Are you calling him a liar?”

Yet another voice: “And who decided to let it grow here? They never asked me about that. You just said someone has to ‘check with everyone else’ before cutting down the tree, but no one checked with everyone else before planting it.”

Thwunk.

Marjorie sighed in deep relief as a police cruiser rolled up, but then she sucked that sigh back in when the car rolled up over the curb and drove out onto the park lawn, leaving ugly ruts in the soft earth. The car stopped a few feet away.

“Officer, arrest this man”, Marjorie said at once, when the door swung open. But when she saw him, she hesitated. Did he look familiar? She glanced at the ax man, then back at the police officer. They could be brothers.

The officer ambled over, nodding to the crowd.

“This man?” he asked Marjorie, pointing to the ax man. Then he jerked back as the ax swung near his head and thwunked into the tree again.

“Careful there, mister. You almost got me.”

“Terribly sorry, officer”, the ax man said. “It was an innocent mistake. I didn’t see you there.”

They both guffawed, as if this was a joke of some kind, and slapped each other on the back.

Marjorie repeated her complaint that the ax man was damaging public property. The ax man repeated his insistence that he was definitely not cutting down the tree.

“Seems like it’s his word against yours, ma’am”, the officer said in a respectful tone to Marjorie. He held a small notebook in his oversized hand as if to write in it, but he held no pen. “Best I can do is take your statements and turn it over to a detective. They’ll be back on Monday. No, Tuesday, due to the holiday. I suppose a court will have to decide.”

“A court?” She was flabbergasted. “You’re the police. He’s committing a crime right in front of you! Aren’t you going to do something?”

“What do you want me to do?” the officer said, shrugging. “I can’t arrest random ax-wielding men on the possibly spurious charge that they’re chopping down public trees, just on the say-so of a woman who claims to be the mayor.”

“I’m not claiming to be the mayor”, Marjorie insisted. “I was elected. Three times!”

“Lots of questions about that second election though”, called out someone from the crowd. “My Uncle Charlie said you bought a bunch of votes.”

“Based on what evidence?” Marjorie retorted. She spun back to the officer. “And all that’s beside the point. You don’t need me or anyone else to claim he’s chopping down the tree. You can see it for yourself.”

“Beside the point?” the officer said, tilting his head in confusion. “I think it’s exactly the point. That man’s Uncle Charlie claims you stole the election. That ought to be investigated.”

“It was investigated”, Marjorie gasped in exasperation. “For two years. The FBI was in town for weeks, you’ll recall. And again, it has nothing to do with this tree-chopping right in front of us.”

“It might be unrelated and it might not be”, the officer said, nodding slowly. “Maybe you’re out here accusing people of chopping down trees in order to distract from the real issue, which is the question of whether you’re really the mayor.”

Thwunk.

The ax man, having worked up a bit of a sweat as the morning wore on, removed his long-sleeved outer shirt. The T-shirt underneath was printed with a logo that reminded Marjorie vaguely of one of the military branches.

“He’s a vet!” someone shouted. “The mayor is harassing a disabled veteran!”

“Thank you for your service!” voices called out. The crowd now numbered at least thirty, Marjorie saw. Even people who had seemed to take her side earlier were now profusely thanking the ax man for his service.

“Is it really relevant whether he’s a veteran?” she asked. “The tree—”

“Now the mayor hates the military”, a voice sang out derisively.

“If she is indeed the real mayor”, someone else said. “I heard recently that the election was disputed.”

After the ax man took another swing, he reached inside the neck of his T-shirt and pulled out a small metal pendant that swung from a silver chain. Marjorie immediately recognized the symbol as that of a mystifyingly popular religion. Oh crap, she thought.

“Look!” someone yelled. “He’s a man of faith! She’s attacking him over his sincere beliefs! Whatever happened to religious freedom in this country?”

Thwunk. The gouged out portion of the tree trunk was now nearly a foot deep, Marjorie saw, and starting to work its way around the circumference.

“He probably has children!” a woman screamed. “Won’t someone think of the children?” She fell to her knees, sobbing.

The ax man extracted a bottle of water from his ice chest. Closing the lid, he sat on the chest. “Anyone want to spell me for a bit?” he said, out of breath. “Being accused of a crime is hard work.” He winked toward Marjorie. “Especially for an out-of-work disabled religious veteran with kids.”

“I’ll give it a turn”, said a young man from the crowd. He began whacking away at the tree enthusiastically, doing much less damage than the ax’s owner, but still small chips flew.

“Anyone want to saw?” the ax man said, holding up the saw. He swallowed greedily from his plastic water bottle.

“Wait a minute...” the officer said, his eyes narrowing. “I thought you were just testing the ax. Now, with the saw, it looks like the mayor might be right. Are you really cutting down this tree?”

The ax man laughed. “Don’t be absurd, officer. I need to test the saw too.”

“Ah.” The officer nodded as if this made sense.

“He can test them at home”, Marjorie said. “The only reason he brought them to the park was to cut down the tree.”

“My home?” the ax man said, his voice rising, his blue eyes twinkling. “You’re suggesting I chop down my own home? Are you actually in favor of vets being homeless?”

“Oh my god!” came a shout from the crowd. “The mayor wants vets to be homeless!”

“What’s that?” asked a man who’d just walked up. He stared in horror at Marjorie, pulled out a notepad, and began scribbling. “This will be in the paper tomorrow! Mayor, do you have any comment on your pro-veteran homelessness policies?”

She stared at him. “You interviewed me yesterday about my plan to house the homeless!”

“It’s called news, not olds”, he gloated at her. “It seems you’ve changed your mind since then.”

“The tree!” she shouted, pointing. Now a new man had grabbed the ax and another was sawing away on the other side of the tree. “They’re chopping down the tree!”

“No they’re not!” came a chorus of cries from the crowd.

The reporter looked back and forth, then peered at Marjorie. “Sounds like there’s a healthy debate on the issue. Our newspaper never takes sides”, he added proudly. “We always report both sides of a story and allow the readers to decide.”

“What sides?” Marjorie sputtered, pointing.

“All kinds of sides”, the reporter nodded, smiling, as he approached her. “Pro-tree, anti-tree. Tree denialism — that one’s a doozy, but it’s their right to advocate for it. You also have Treenitarians, Antidisestablishmentreenitarians, Libertarians, and tree-cutting conspiracy theorists. Are you a conspiracy theorist, mayor?”

Some of the crowd had, by then, constructed signs.

Who comes to the park on Saturday morning with sign-making material? Marjorie wondered, not feeling well.

One group chanted: “Home! Less! Vets!” and their signs agreed with the chant, though to what end Marjorie couldn’t fathom. Another set of signs and chants nonsensically said “Ax Test! Be Best!” A lone person carried a sign halfheartedly: “Trees Over Faith? The Mayor’s A Ghoul!”

Marjorie stared in surprise. “At least ‘wraith’ would have rhymed”, she murmured.

Ignoring the reporter, she stalked back to the tree and again demanded that the officer arrest the ax man, now adding the charge of “accomplice” to the several people who’d been helping him.

“Just calm down”, the officer said, raising his voice. “Everyone calm down. We can discuss this like adults. I remember when people in this town were unified, when we could all come together and agree on things. Let’s treat each other with civility and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Marjorie looked at the tree trunk. Others had brought tools of their own, and it was now damaged all the way around, the cut averaging 18 inches deep. One wild-eyed teen had climbed a limb and was busily hacking at it with a hatchet.

An elderly man jostled his way to the front. “The officer's right!” he hissed, spittle foaming around his mouth. “We need to stop all these baseless accusations and join together as a community. A lot of people were offended today, and folks got upset. I think it’s time to forget and forgive.”

“But they’re still cutting the tree”, Marjorie argued, realizing it was probably hopeless to mention it again.

The elderly man suddenly darted toward Marjorie, pointed a bony finger in her face, and screamed: “That’s what I’m talking about! Your rhetoric is dividing us! Pitting us against each other! Why are you against unity? You think only your side deserves a seat at the table?”

She stumbled backward. The reporter caught her elbow and steadied her. “Politics sure is a cutthroat sport”, he mused thoughtfully. “Both sides ought to work on a compromise.”

Marjorie allowed the reporter to lead her back to her bench, where she found her phone on the ground.

“What compromise?" she asked him. “How do you compromise with people who will cut down Colonel Oak? Let them cut it halfway down?”

The man shrugged. “That seems fair. You want the whole tree to stay; they want the whole tree gone. Why not have half a tree? Like the top half, for example, which most people agree is the prettier half.”

“The top ha—?” Marjorie tried to exclaim.

“Or the left half”, the reporter hurried to add. “As long as it’s worked out in a calm, deliberative manner without divisive accusations.”

Marjorie shuddered as a limb creaked and then thudded to the ground, accompanied by cheers from the crowd.

 

***

 

BONUS ALTERNATE ENDING:

Hours later, safely drugged and strapped to a comfortable but not great-smelling bed, Marjorie smiled. Everything would be okay, she knew. It just had to. When you feel this good, it means things are working out.

Eventually, she noticed a tall, gaunt man standing beside her.

“Look who’s awake”, he said, more cheer in his voice than on his face.

“I guess they cut down the tree?” she mumbled, unable to get her lips and tongue to work in concert.

“What tree?” asked the man, perplexed.

“Colonel Oak”, she breathed. It sounded like “crumble ode”.

“In this town?” the man said skeptically. “I don’t think the founders of this town were in favor of trees.”

“Yet they called it Oaktown”, she grimaced, then relaxed. It was simply too taxing to be angry. It would be better if she just thought about pleasant things. Like art. She had seen some great art in her day. Or love. No, love was too divisive, she thought. Art and music. Or flowers. Yes, flowers were nice.

“Oaktown indeed”, the man said, regaining his cheer. “I’ve never been a fan of the name, honestly. Now, about your medication...”