The Cycle of the Dogwood

I love this story of the Dogwood tree. When I was a child a friend of mine (using the term "friend" as loosely as I use "father" to describe the monster that paid their bills) lived down the street on a lot with plenty of grass (he had to hand pick the dandelions "every day, god damnit."), fairly dense perimeter woods and Dogwood trees. I remember the small twisted trees that spotted the plush green lawn and the beautiful oversized white flowers that marked the coming of Spring every year.

I wish I could remember this boy's name. He was an abrupt kid who, I now have no doubt, was living in an abusive household. He carried these violations over unto others in the neighborhood, and I'd sincerely be interested to know what became of him after they shipped him off to military school. (I believe he is the young man who told me the about the birds and bees: "One person lays on the other person's butt for an hour and then they have a baby.")

The young man's father taught me about the cycle of the Dogwood. That a long time ago the Dogwood was a tall majestic tree that filled forests with grand flowers that could not be seen elsewhere. The tree was so abundant and strong that it was frequently used in construction and was actually used to build the crosses used by the Romans to crucify criminals. After Jesus had his day in the sun God got pissed and told (?) someone, the person that started spreading this story no doubt, that in remembrance of this day the Dogwood would never again be capable of growing to it's full form again. Now we have the dwarfish twisted and feeble Dogwood seen in my young acquaintance's yard.

What's the moral of this story? I don't know. For my friend's wicked father it was to teach us that if we touched this sacred relic of Jesus' last day he'd, "break your god damned arms." I think he might have done just that, or at least laid on someone's butt for a while.