This doesn't appear to be a letter but a loose scrap of paper. It bears the name of the young man who was my guide on the pilgrimage to Chapel Hill, NC around New Year 1998.
In Athens, GA there is this tree that owns itself. It lives on one of those typical southern streets named after a flower where one side is restored Victorian home and the other side is something less. Some may say that all trees own themselves and this is likely. The land was left by a boy who loved and was loved by the tree. (I'm assuming we've all read that book) he became a man and more and when he left this earth he remained in his love for the tree. The land is donated to the tree and circled by a foot of concrete fence. A plaque commemorates the occasion. If all trees owned themselves than this one owned the boy.
We make our own barriers, city limits and titles to tie us to the earth. The tree has that natural right. It needs not compete, it takes up space and that is enough. The tree that owns itself owns us. For all our ideas about belonging and our respect for our wishes, even after death, the tree continues on in ignorant bliss. One man's last wish will mean nothing but a quaint story. The story the boy at the record shop told me when I visited charming, Athens, GA.
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