THAT'S WHAT NEIGHBORS ARE FOR

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For a lot of people, the days of the close-knit neighborhood are gone.

I am fortunate that such is not the case for me. And how, you may ask, do I know that for certain? I can sum it up in five words that I said to a neighbor the other day: “Can I borrow your chainsaw?”

You see, only a neighborhood ripped from the 1950s sitcom era would share that kind of life bond. Sure, you may borrow the occasional cup of sugar or wheelbarrow or kidney from a neighbor. But a chainsaw? That’s the kind of lending that comes only with the steepest of trust.

My need for a chainsaw arose when a branch from a willow tree in my back yard decided that it no longer enjoyed its horizontal direction and opted for a vigorous nosedive onto my fence. Fortunately, the fence was strong enough to support the weight of the branch. Had it collapsed the fence, of course, it would have been my neighbor’s fence. As I surveyed the damage, I realized that the branch had not fallen completely off of the tree, but rather had just splintered enough to point down.

I was going to have to finish the job with the power you can only get from a chainsaw. Sure, I could have used a hand saw. But would a hand saw render you temporarily unable to hear and arms that flopped like jelly? I think not.

So I went to see my neighbor, Tim. Tim and I have used chainsaws together in the past, on a wood cutting expedition. We both appreciate the exceptionally manly power that is a chainsaw.

The beauty of a shared love of such machines is that not only was I excited about borrowing the chainsaw, he was excited about letting someone borrow it.

Tim is always eager to offer up his chainsaw. It’s a way to say to everyone, “Hey! I have a chainsaw!” The men of the neighborhood value this. The women just don’t understand. Tim showed me how to use the chainsaw (“Hold this end. NEVER hold this end.”) and sent me on my way. My neighbor Dave, whose yard my willow tree was encroaching upon, was going to assist in the dismantling in the branch. One thing is certain: It is never difficult to find good help when chainsaw use is involved. I was pleased to see the ease with which the chainsaw tore through the branch. I cut it into small, manageable chunks of about 12 feet, which then had to be cut into smaller, more manageable chunks of about five feet, because the manageability of a 12-foot chunk of willow tree is about as manageable as a Chrysler. Willows, it turns out, are only slightly less dense than iron.

When Dave and I finished our willow chainsawing, we prepared to return to the saw to its home. Dave, it turns out, is a thinking man’s chainsaw partner. Dave remembered that he had several trees down in yard, and we should probably take the saw to those. I mean, since we had it out and all. After we felled a few more trees, we searched valiantly for more things to bring down, since we had the power. (”Come on Dave, the deck is just cluttering up your back yard. Let’s open this baby up!”) Alas, all of our chainsawing had been completed, and it was time to return our saw to its rightful owner. I look forward to needing to borrow the chainsaw again. And I am sure Tim will be eager to assist. After all, that’s what neighbors are for.