Hung hammocks have been heisted

The fourth floor of the Albertsons Library on the north side; the top of the Stueckle Sky Club facing east; a top floor Multipurpose classroom at sunset – few spots on campus have the views that can clear a student’s head. There is, however, one view that will never be had again.

 A certain tree on the Quad held between three and five hammocks. This may come as a surprise to some, but to others and myself this certain tree until recently was a place of refuge, holding one of the most peaceful views on campus. I could lay in the hammocks of that tree and see straight through the well-trimmed branches to the sky above.

A few weeks ago, the hammocks disappeared. They were quite obviously hacked down with a blade, as the ropes holding them had been cut clean.

I first heard about these swinging sit-spots from a friend whose child was not limited by the limits of inquiry. He saw the boughs of this majestic pine stretching all the way to the ground and thought: What is inside that tree? And the answer was far more interesting than one could have possibly hoped.

I myself am hesitant to admit the exact location of the hammock tree, but to the truly perceptive the secret should be obvious. If a 6-year-old can find this spot, I certainly hope that a great number of university students can too.

There’s a part of me that thinks the removal of these hammocks might be my fault. I showed my friends and talked openly about it when a passerby asked what I had been doing underneath the tree. When I got comfortable with the dynamic of the tree itself, I drew a lot of attention by riding my bike across the grass and into the bowels of the tree without so much as slowing down.

Did some groundskeeper witness this event and enter the tree to investigate? If so, for what reason would the hammocks be a detriment? Maybe the concern was for the grass around the great pine, as traffic was increasing in the area.

The hammocks were obviously placed there by an expert hand. Bent on some kind of statement of environmentalism, they were made from old bed sheets or curtains, so it seemed. I never doubted the integrity of the structure, however, and wished often for the supplier of the hammocks to come ambling through the tree so I could find out.

I’m reticent to hang any sort of notification up in the tree. As embarrassed as I am to admit this as a journalist, I don’t know where to begin investigating this. Do you know anything about this situation?

DALE EISINGER
Culture Editor

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