Was it you, or was it That Other Reader who commented on the big ash tree, now missing from the front yard at 304 S. Wheeler? It is now a resident of the barn out back, all cut and split and ready to keep the Queen plenty warm next winter--and for several more winters to come, I hope.

Jerry Don Kibbe was aware of the ricks of firewood stacked in our barn. He knew, too, that The Publisher's prized Norwegian maple must also come down. He told me the other day, "Dick, this country is in bad shape when a man has to cut his shade trees for next winter's heat."

Yess'um it was heart-breaking for me to stand and watch as Jerry Cato and his merry band of sawhands dismembered and cut the giant into firewood. Yet, it had to be done. For the 108 years (I counted the rings, twice) the stately ash withstood rain, wind, heat, hail, ice, drought and lightening, not to mention onslaughts by several varieties of bugs, worms, beetles and borers.

One hundred and eight years; that's a long time. Sallisaw was just ten years old when the ash was a stripling slip showing few signs of the mighty tree into which it grew. Jerry estimated it to be 70 feet tall, but we forgot to guess at its spread, which was ample, to say the least.

The ash's long-time friend, the sycamore, still stands as a solitary testimony to old age. The sycamore is slightly bowed, like a ) but that simply shows its long-term accommodation to the now-absent ash.

Just a few houses had been built along S. Wheeler Ave. in 1898, even though it was recognized as "Sallisaw's leading residential area" by local newspapers and photographers. Wheeler itself was not paved (the concrete didn't come until 1934) and I doubt that it even had the blessing of gravel in 1898.

After Grandad W.D. built his home next door, over on Ida St., the ash served as shade and a scratching post for the milk cow and the horses, after its shade spread far enough to shelter the chicken yard and the barn.

In later years, I took over command of the ash, building forts, foxholes and redoubts under its welcome summer shade, from whence I watched as the 1940 Hollywood film crew came up Wheeler with the string of jalopies and their owners and the owners' families, all of which were hired to portray the famous Joad family and friends in John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath movie spectacle. After the Joads, here came the cavalcades of tanks, jeeps, half-tracks, cannons and other materi