This commentary all started from a quickly posted Facebook picture of my dad having lunch at the Old Dairy after a morning of tree planting at Horn Field Campus. I captioned it, “He keeps showing up with more trees. I can’t imagine how many he has planted. At the end of the day, count how many trees you’ve planted.”
It was early November and Dad insisted on coming to Horn to plant more trees before the ground froze, which is a common occurrence actually. And his trips from Galesburg always include lunch at the Old Dairy because pie is important and good coffee too. During the busy fall season at Horn I didn’t give much thought to his impact of gifting trees other than giving him a quick shout-out on Facebook, as we easily do nowadays. But our friend Heather replied to my hastily posted photo and inquired if I’d like to add my woman’s voice to this series about the guy that is known as the tree man, Ray Pheiffer, my dad.
I’ve had the winter to muse over how best I could relay the true impact of my dad’s actions over the years. Where did it all begin anyway, his interest in trees? Was it purely utilitarian by providing an income? Has it morphed into something much more over the decades?
One of Dad’s first full-time jobs was with the Monmouth Power Company where he learned tree care, back when they used metal spikes to climb the trees. I don’t know how long he worked there but I do know that the skills he obtained then became a part of his identity. Dad then started farming, and he also worked at and retired from Butler Manufacturing. However, he always had tree work to do on the side for friends, family, neighbors, local cemeteries, and the like. He had a large boom truck, multiple ropes, saws and poles, and many ‘branch managers’ as he likes to call us.
I didn’t pay that much attention as a young girl, but when I returned home as an adult, I became acutely aware of his tree handling prowess, knowledge, and reputation. I witnessed him remove trees from places that seemed unimaginable. He has the mastery of rope use to guide the falling of limbs like no other. The amount of risk and adventure associated with such tasks were not lost on me.
Trees and forests were always a part of our lives. As a child, my “jungle gym” was a mature maple tree, and my playground was the forest floor of the pine trees planted on the farm for a windbreak. I recall Sunday drives from the backseat of the car which seemed to take forever just so we could see more trees. A few I recall visiting were White Pines and Starved Rock State Parks, and Big River State Forest near Oquawka. His tree knowledge did not come from textbooks that I know of. Experience. Trial. Error. And come to find out, he has been a long-time member of both the World Wildlife Federation and the Arbor Day Society. I am the daughter of the tree man.
No higher education degrees or shiny awards abound, nothing named in his honor, but his generosity to WIU and to many other places that hold meaning to him will stand the test of time. For many of these gifts, he will not directly benefit, but these trees will provide habitat and comfort and beauty to many for a long time.
How many trees has he planted over his lifetime? The number is vast and unknown, but he can probably remember most of them, which ones made it, and which ones didn’t. And what kind they were. And he not only planted them, but watered them methodically and slowly, not to waste any water that had been hauled in for this life-giving chore. And he never asked for a receipt.
Thomas Fuller is quoted as saying, “He that plants trees loves others beside himself.”
So at the end of the day, ask yourself, how many trees have you planted?
Mindy Pheiffer is Director of Horn Field Campus.
The opinions expressed are not necessarily those of Tri States Public Radio or its license holder, Western Illinois University.
Diverse viewpoints are welcomed and encouraged.