Love and Loss -- A Flowery Umbrella In The Big City ~ A Somewhat Long Story, Also Involving Bugs ~

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"...You Never Know What You've Got Till It's Gone, They Paved Paradise, And Put Up A Parking Lot" -Joni Mitchell

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Excerpted from:

"Chasing Large Beetles Around The Big Apple"

-by ddschteinn

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Recently, @jlufer put out a very nice story called "The Orange Umbrella And The Walk In The Meadow" (Link)which discussed the life, loss and re-surface of a beautiful umbrella that graced a person's life. Being a very nice, heartfelt story in it's own right, the tale reminded me of my OWN umbrella story, that transpired some time ago in the wilds of NYC.

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A Dirt Forester Lands In The Big Apple

Several years back, I was called upon to travel to New York City to assist in a major APHIS project: A serious attempt to rid the Metropolis of the latest introduced scourge of the nasty-bug department. Evidently, the exceedingly large Asian Longhorn Beetle was trying to make the New York area it's new home, having been brought over from Eastern parts of the world within shipping pallets that were dropped off on the docks.

And once this huge, tree-boring beetle discovered all the delicious Maple, Ash and other hardwood trees growing in the NY area, it became very excited, and set up residence in the City That Never Sleeps. Possibly a good thing if you are a tree-munching bug, but definitely not a good thing for the target trees of NYC.

My time in the big city was intended to last five weeks, most of which was spent going door to door, mapping trees and discussing with whomever answered the door -- various things about treatment options (there was only one), and scheduling times that the crews could access the back yard to deal with every possible tree. Most people were rather cooperative, with many actually requesting we take down ALL their trees. "Too many leaves and bugs and such a big mess" was the common complaint. Quite a shock for a forester that loves all things tree and tree related.

What The Best-Dressed Bug-Person Is Wearing This Year

This being February on the East Coast, the weather was less-than-cooperative a good portion of the time. Most often alternating between cold, overcast gray, and blowing-sideways sleet and rain. Conditions not all that un-familiar to a dirt forester, but still, something that had to be dealt with on a daily basis.

Luckily, I had brought all my bad-weather accoutramon with me from the forests of the west. Large waterproof Pac boots, wool socks, plenty of fuzzy fleece, rain gear (coat and all-important pants), wool mitts with outer coverings, and a serious fleece stocking hat and 'necker', all rounded-out with a Sou-wester, plopped on my head to complete the 'outfit'.

The locals I worked with got quite a chortle when they spotted my 'getup' the first few days I wandered about the city with them, and they took to calling me the 'Big Green Michelin Man'. I could tell they were quite pleased with my outfit, as well as themselves.

Though quite content with my appearance providing much-needed comic relief during a boring job, once the horizontal sleet fully kicked-in, I'm pretty sure I could have purchased a small used Ford with all the offers I received to sell my 'odd-duck' outdoor clothing, once my crew discovered how warm and dry I was on the inside. I never did get a car, but did stay very comfortable while working in the city.

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But What About The Umbrella?

When working back at home, the primary gist of our work-day in the forested mountains involved gathering data for timber inventory, which required hiking great distances through the steep woods, then standing about for an hour or two on a 'plot', with a metal tatum (forestry talk for a fat metal clipboard with pencils inside), writing down all sorts of necessary tree data. Rain or shine, or in any and all sorts of worse, nasty-bad weather, we kept on working, no matter what transpired.

And though we used waterproof paper on our tatum during these trying times, the stuff was only good for a few hours in a major deluge, before it reverted back to it's original form of wood-pulp. Particularly if you made a mistake and had to perform an erase. A true detriment to future, correct translation of the all-important data.

This is where the umbrella thing comes in. Believe it or not, one of the most useful tools I discovered while working in the woods in the rain and snow, was the standard golf umbrella. This simple piece of equipment, tucked under one arm and propped up on the shoulder, kept all the heavy rain/sleet/snow and tree-slush at bay, and allowed for clean writing of penciled data with no major problems arising from above.

There was only one small catch to this wonderful piece of gear. One should NEVER attempt to walk to the next plot with the umbrella in the 'up' position. Amazing what crashing headlong for twenty chains through the seven foot-high wall of a Rhododendron and Ninebark stand will do to a punny golf umbrella in 'full furl'. Something you only attempt once.

Off To The Goodwill In NYC

Back to the big bugs in the Big City. Once in New York, I discovered I'd gone off and left my all-important large umbrella back at home in the closet. Oh dear, what to do? The only answer...head to the nearest Thrift Store...and buy a new, used umbrella.

I was rather shocked at the sticker prices and the major lack of 'good stuff' in the stores of thrift in NYC. There just was not that much of a selection. After a couple of bus rides on my first day off to different stores, I finally found a place with a few umbrellas. No major golf-types were anywhere to be found, but quite a few 'parasols' and 'fold-ups' could be had, which just would not do.

Finally, one really nice umbrella surfaced for a whopping $9.95 at the next store I visited. A bit steep by my normal thrift standards, but I'd never seen an umbrella quite like this one in all my born days.

The thing was an off-color pinkish-red, with large black roses embroidered all around the lower areas, 'just so'. It WAS rather colorful, and the thing made me feel quite the dandy as I popped it and wandered about the store, practicing my best 'Twirl'.

Yes, this one would do quite nicely. I re-furled my new umbrella, paid the clerk the ridiculous cost + tax, and jumped on the bus to head back to my waiting hotel, dinner, and prep for the next day of work.

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Rain Rain, Go Away. And You With The Goofy Umbrella, Go Away Too!

Jump ahead a few days, to the next major rain-squall event. By this time in the job, I'd been assigned a different couple of guys from somewhere else, to walk about going door to door with.

Evidently, one of our workers somewhere in the city had been chewed up by a nasty dog, and they were putting more of us together for job safety. I believe this was a defensive practice, much like our age-old adage of bear-encounter survival from the woods back home. The good old ' "Run Away, Run Away" -- Victim Dispersal Bear Theory.' Summarized very efficiently by the statement..."I don't have to outrun the bear, only you two."

And these two new fellows I was now working with in NYC? They did NOT like my new umbrella. First time I popped it out, they just stood and stared at me for the longest time. They soon recovered... "What is THAT"?
"It's my new umbrella."
"It's pink, with FLOWERS on it!!"
"It keeps me dry when I'm taking notes."
"Not with US, it's not !!"
Evidently, they were not as taken with the pinkish-red color and nice black rose embroidery as I was. Some people just have no sense of style.

In short order they both 'requested' that I walk at least fifteen feet ahead or behind their location whenever on the move with the umbrella , and neither of them would go up to the door to ring the bell with me, if I had my umbrella out. Not sure what the major objection was, but they sure objected.

I still used my fancy umbrella whenever it rained, but just kept my distance from them whenever it was deployed. I was not sure what would happen if a person-eating dog found me at a door by myself, and luckily I never had to find out. We all worked together for another week or so, and our little arrangement seemed to work out just fine. They were not all that interesting to talk to anyway.

In due time I was assigned to a different crew, (don't think it had anything to do with my taste in rain accessories), and these new people all possessed MUCH better fashion sense. They actually LIKED my rosy umbrella, which made me very happy. Plus, I got to have more people go up the steps and ring the doorbell with me, which made me feel much safer in the dog/bear random-dispersal department.

All Good Things Must Come To An End

As with all grand adventures, the time came to exit the Big City, and head back home. And I was not about to leave my classic umbrella behind, unlike the Goodwill toaster, hotplate and other cookware I left for the hotel maid as I departed. (The $300/night Hilton people just did not seem all that appreciative of we 'self reliant' visitors.)

On the day of departure, I wrapped my nifty umbrella in brown paper, and with my other luggage in tow, headed to the JFK International Airport and the large beyond, beckoning from the West. Once at the airport, I procured one of those $3 pushcarts, piled my luggage on, and proceeded to wander all about the airport, trying to figure out where in the heck I was supposed to be, to properly leave the state.

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"Sir, Is This A Brick In Your Luggage?"

I soon found my gate area, and all-too-soon found myself in a spot of trouble with the TSA folks, which I suppose is a story all of it's own. However, I can say for sure, it was somewhere in all this fracas of the security absurd that I lost my precious, pinkish-red, rose-embroidered umbrella.

For some odd reason, the TSA guys in little red theater jackets had a real problem with my baggage. Seems their X-ray machine balked at the large, antique brick I had stuffed at the bottom of my huge, army-green duffle luggage. (It IS a cool brick. Complete with ancient NYC writing on the face, found in a creek while working in a major park. Not something you would consider leaving behind!!)

After some rather intense, heavily spectator-ed battle with my green army bag, and never even reaching my precious brick, the TSA guys in red coats finally gave up, and in rather halting English, finally asked -- "Please Help". I stuffed all my boots, rain gear, clothes, Frisbee, under's, socks, tatum, and spurious 'other stuff', now spread all over the enormous stainless steel table, back into the huge canvas bag, and went about my airport business once more.

Oh Dear, Where's My Friend?

I was only about twenty yards into the gateway from the TSA area, when I realized something was amiss. MY FLOWERY UMBRELLA WAS NO LONGER WITH ME!! I looked all around my cart, backtracked the entire floor, retracing my steps as I went, all to no avail. My pinkish-red, black rose umbrella was now long gone.

There was no proof available, and I suppose I could have dropped the umbrella somewhere in my early walkabout with the cart, but I'm fairly certain I had it with me when the security spectacle started. This could be construed as overly-paranoid, but I'm pretty sure someone wandered off with my special umbrella when all this business was going on with the TSA agents.

I had no time to find and discuss this whole thing with the Police or Lost and Found, as the huge loudspeaker system was shouting at me to board my plane in short order. I was crestfallen, but had no choice. I could not miss my flight, in search of my umbrella, so I abandoned the thought of finding my stylish, rainy-day popup, and headed for my gate.

As we took off and banked to the west over the Big City below, a small lump soon appeared in the back of my throat. All I could think about was my special umbrella, somewhere down there, in the concrete and metal, noise and confusion of that big, sprawling Metropolis, all alone, in the hands of some who-knows-who. My special, pinkish-red, black-rose umbrella.

I only hope whoever ended up with it gave my rainy-day friend a new, excellent home, and my umbrella occasionally thinks of me, whenever those people pop it open in a heavy, sideways rain of NYC.

~ FINTO ~

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