While I drove him home, he sat in stoney silence. On
arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked
toward
the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the
tips of the branches with both hands.
After opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation.
His tanned face was wreathed in smiles, and he hugged his two
small children and gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward, he walked me to my car. We passed the tree, and
my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I
had
seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help
having
troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't
belong in
the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them
up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the
morning, I pick them up again."
"Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to
pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging
up the night before."
The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse
had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire
made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and
now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.