My childhood home is in a southwest neighborhood of Chicago. I lived there for 23 years. "My" tree was situated on the other side of our front sidewalk, on our grass, closest to the street. It was always the last tree to lose all of its leaves, and it was very, very cold out by the time it had done so. At the time of the event, I was a teenager. A passionate personality by nature, my emotions were triggered by the city of Chicago workers, who had come to cut down "my" tree. I literally wrapped my arms around "my" tree, (a tree hugger in the literal sense of the term), and refused to move. This prompted phone calls that needed to be made. Eventually, the city workers received permission to let the tree remain. It has been nearly 40 years. Sometimes I drive through my old neighborhood. Part of my reminiscence is about "my" tree. "My" tree is still there. That makes me smile.