June 29, 2025

A Tree Dies In Brooklyn

Needlessly lost to a chainsaw, mourning the loss of a natural marvel to urban expansion.

The chainsaws started around 8:30 AM last Friday. I’m used to the sounds of daytime construction in my neighborhood, they don’t call it “Cobble Hill” for nothin’. That’s not how it got the name, obviously—it was named for early 18th century Dutch settler Bernardus Elbert Kaable. 

(Ok, I’m joking, it’s named after what had been a fortress on what was then a conical intersection of what is now Court Street, Pacific Street, and Atlantic Avenue.)

Anyway, that’s me, trying to find humor in tragic situations. It’s a coping mechanism. 

So, back to the sound of chainsaws. I couldn’t yet see where it was coming from, somewhere in the yard, where a neighbor often does stuff like hammer and sand furniture, so I thought nothing of it at first. But then the chainsaws got louder, construction workers were shouting, then the crunch of wood splitting. I rushed to the kitchen window to see a massive branch falling. 

Holy shit. They were killing the tree. 

The majestic, lush, four-story marvel that provides most of the shade to the southern end of the house, keeping the kitchen cooler in summer with some added courtyard privacy, offering its limbs to robins, cardinals, sparrows, hawks, owls, the occasional raven, and countless squirrels at any given time. The branches that optimistically portend spring with little pink buds weeks before New York City’s first official No Jacket Day. The last golden amber leaves of the season to bid farewell in late November, clinging to the branches until it’s just too frigid to hold their grip. “See you next year, Sunshine!” The tall, dark silhouette of the branches against the twilight sky in late autumn and winter, the backdrop to many of my Jasper and Menorahsaurus photos. 

“Nooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!” I yelled out the open window. “Stoooppppppp!!!” “What are you doing????!!!!!!” 

“It’s too late, Mama,” said a landscaper that I now noticed was harnessed to its trunk. With that, he once again revved up the machinery. The branch closest to our house made a sickening splintering sound, then crashed over the fence, right onto the side of the crab apple tree in our own yard, the leaves making a combination splash-crunching sound that sounded a little like someone cannonballing into a lake from a great height. 

What could have been close to a century, possibly more, of reaching for the skies, suddenly gone in one day. 

I’ve had a stressful few months experiencing personal grief from losing a close friend, family health crisis, career crisis, a loved one dealing with a near-fatal health scare, and the overall feeling of helplessness from seeing the monstrous injustices of the world dealt by the greed of selfish, morbidly wealthy, deranged men and assorted religious fanatics who seem to have all the power, not to mention the usual natural disasters and horrors of the planet. I’ve been sad, I’ve been furious, I’ve been anxious, but at no point have I broken down and cried. 

This time I just stared out the kitchen window rage crying. Screaming like I’d just stepped in a pail of fire ants. Suddenly gone was one of the few things I could count on for comfort. A gorgeous living thing that also provided essential shade and privacy. Why? 

I had another favorite tree in the neighborhood. This one was a few blocks away. This one had somehow managed to grow with its trunk straddling both sides of a wrought iron fence. It grew through metal! And it was tall, higher than any of the surrounding brownstones, just reaching for the skies, totally badass. I used to make a point of walking past it when I was feeling anxious, confused, or stressed. The tree represented infinite possibilities to me. I referred to it as my Tree of Serenity

One afternoon a couple of years ago I headed up that block and couldn’t find it. What??? Did I space out and stroll down the wrong street? I kept pacing. No, not imagining things. There was fresh earth in front of a house, a new fence, and a tiny shrub. I just stood and stared a minute, then a woman emerged from the house. I’m guessing she was used to this sort of thing happening for a while, people outside her window that appear to be cemented by utter confusion, people she now had a clear view of. 

“It was hurting us!” She declared. It turned out the thing had roots that were causing severe foundational damage to the house. In a recent storm, a fallen limb wrecked a park car. It was threatening the sewer system for the whole block. 

On Friday I collected myself and went around the corner to see if I could get some answers. Had the neighbor’s lovely tree been causing underground damage too? Though they can also claim part of the yard, the dry cleaners knew nothing of the work, amazed as I was. Same story at all the businesses on the block, who shared my total what-the-fuckment. No one had been warned, not only was it hideous and dangerous, the noise was unbearable and driving away customers. 

It wasn’t until late afternoon that I spoke to the landscapers, who were piling limbs into a dumpster on the sidewalk. Apparently I wasn’t the only resident demanding answers. The head landscaper sighed. “Lady, we’re just doing what the architect told us to do.” 

“The… what? What’s happening?”

“Clearing the way for a building extension.”

“You just killed a beautiful tree for no reason?”

“Not my decision. And there is a reason. Just not one anyone likes.”

“Well, now OUR tree could be damaged!!!”

“We’re here again next week. We don’t have time for that today.”

“What the…” And he just walked away. 

From what I understand now—although it involves private property I don’t pay into, the neighbors, who have a permit for the construction, were required by law to enlist certified arborists to handle the tree removal. I don’t know yet if these landscapers are also licensed for this task. I have to find out. The trunk is still standing pretty tall, and will start coming down tomorrow. I have major concerns about how this will be accomplished if they were already just letting limbs crash every which way into surrounding properties.  

My landlord does not live in the building, but he used to. It was his family’s home for twenty years until the 1990s, and he grew up in the neighborhood. His first cousin is Pepe Montero, owner of Montero’s bar. My landlord is also an ex-cop with city connections. Needless to say, he got wind of what’s going on, he was pretty pissed. The parlor floor neighbors took down the license plate number of the landscaping truck. 

My garden apartment neighbor came home from work to find the flower bed she had just planted destroyed and the string lights fallen to the ground. It would be unsafe to let her husky mix dog Luna out until they can secure the yard, and who knows when that will be. It’s her birthday this weekend. She can’t entertain people in the garden as planned.  

Here’s the thing: I have my health, my family is OK for now, and so are my friends and loved ones. I am not kidnapped and tortured by terrorists, and I am not zip-tied and smuggled by masked men, my screaming child wrenched from my arms while deported without due process to a decrepit detention facility in a country that isn’t mine. Missiles aren’t falling around me. I don’t risk my life to feed my family. My home is not debris, at least not yet. 

On a scale of major world problems and personal crises, neighbors killing a tree and ruining privacy and natural canopy is right around “favorite eyeliner was discontinued”. 

But, I’m gonna miss that tree. Last night I forgot to pull the crappy shades I never used to need (and probably have to replace now), and this morning before 6 AM it was like Close Encounters alien arrival bright in my kitchen. The heat and harsh glow woke me up. A major source of comfort, something I could always count on, has been destroyed and my summer will be loud. I probably have to find somewhere else to work and I can’t afford to rent co-working space and can’t concentrate in public spaces like cafés. 

I just didn’t need this shit. 

And a beautiful piece of nature has been destroyed. 

I’m sad.