The Mighty Oak
A true story about love, magic, and New York City.
I’m going to keep it real with you: quarantining in NYC isn’t rainbows and butterflies. It’s hard to feel the natural magic of The City when the majority of its people are hurting—physically, mentally, economically. It’s hard to see the magic when once vibrant streets are now filled with boarded up storefronts and U-Hauls carting residents to “safer” lands… whatever that means.
Commenting on a quote claiming New York to be “over” because of remote work, Jerry Seinfeld said it best. In an opinion article for The New York Times, Seinfeld retorted, “Everyone hates to do this. Everyone. Hates. You know why? Because there’s no energy. Energy, attitude and personality cannot be ‘remoted’ through even the best fiber optic lines. That’s the whole reason many of us moved to New York in the first place.”
I was aligned with Seinfeld until I met Bea. New York City is different right now. It’s not producing the tremendous energy it’s used to producing because the people—the driving force of the city’s magic—are run down. Yet, within moments of meeting her, Bea transferred the magic of New York City into my soul once again.
You see, you don’t always have to see or feel the magic. Sometimes, you just need to create the energy for yourself.
Let this inspirational moment serve as a reminder to us all:
The Mighty Oak
I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. I’ve seen her there before—an unassuming upper-middle-aged woman with blonde shoulder-length hair, taking pictures of groups picnicking in the park. In the past, I thought her actions to be strange. My opinion didn’t waiver as she stood 50 feet away from the small group I gathered with, taking photos of us as we celebrated my boyfriend’s birthday beneath the shade of an oak tree.
In true New York fashion, we went on with our celebration, ignoring the not-so-subtle snaps of her iPhone.
“This is my tree,” we heard her say as she stepped closer to our camp of bedsheets sprawled across the grass.
“Excuse me?” We said.
“This is my tree,” she repeated before continuing her story. “I planted it years ago in memory of my late husband. In fact, it just celebrated its 13th birthday.”
After a few minutes, we discovered her name was Bea. She was smitten with our small gathering, particularly the ‘happy birthday’ banner attached to the low hanging branches of her tree—The Mighty Oak, she called it. Bea explained that the tree was planted all those years ago with hope that, when it became large enough, groups like us would gather under its shade. Now that it’s maturing, she likes to visit the tree and collect pictures of the groups she once dreamt of.
We learned that her husband once enjoyed frequenting the vast field we sat in, soaking in the vibrant energy naturally caused by gatherings of Brooklynites. The sounds of chatter, laughter, playing children, and barking dogs were music to his ears. It turns out that dogs, in fact, were the reason The Mighty Oak was planted in the spot we were sitting in, in the first place.
“When we came to plant the tree,” Bea explained, “we had no idea where the seeds would go. We picked this spot because a pack of dogs ran across the field, eventually gathering in the spot we’re standing today.”
Bea let us see the candid photos she captured from a few feet back and asked if we’d pose for a few more. Of course, we said yes—for while she was in awe of the irony of our small birthday gathering, we were in awe of her resilience.
For 13 years, Bea has patiently watched what was once a seedling grow into the natural protector it is today. Now, she enjoys standing idly by, soaking in the energy she quietly created, as The Mighty Oak does exactly what it was intended to do—provide a safe haven for park goers craving to bask in the thrill of shaded sunshine, connection, distant beats, creativity, and fresh air.
In the words of Jerry Seinfeld, “Real, live, inspiring human energy exists when we coagulate together in crazy places like New York City.”
That. That feels like magic to me.