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Down in the Dirt v059

this writing is in the collection book
Decrepit Remains
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Decrepit Remains, the 2008 Down in the Dirt collection book
Good Health Care

Robert Mitchell

    Mr. Martinez had worked as a gardener at the Tansen Cancer Research Center ever since it had opened over five years ago. It was a good job, and he was employed directly by the hospital, instead of a landscaping firm.
    Therefore, he received an excellent retirement plan, two weeks of vacation a year, and even a good health care plan, though Tony Martinez rarely needed it, except for that time he hurt his back lifting a sack of fertilizer. In fact, he and his whole family seemed to have prospered, along with the general finances of the hospital.
    Almost since it was built, the hospital had vaulted into worldwide notoriety for their unusual success in treating a variety of different cancers. Their percentage of remissions was way above normal, and they had remarkable success treating many degenerative diseases as well. In fact, they hardly advertised at all, and by word of mouth people flocked to the facility, often after giving up hope at other institutions.
    And, with this success came the problems that all businesses experience when they reach capacity—they ran out of parking. So, one morning Dr. Donald Grady, Administrator of the Tansen Cancer Research Center called Mr. Martinez into his office to discuss the problem.
    “It's very simple,” explained Doctor Grady, pointing to a map of the clinic grounds laid out on his desk. “We have a parking problem. Now, if we remove this tree here, it would free up four parking spots, all within easy walking distance of the lobby,” and the gardener leaned forward, noting where the doctor pointed.
    Tony Martinez frowned, realizing which tree the doctor indicated. “Doctor, are you sure you want to remove that tree?” he asked.
    “Of course. It's the only one left that can give us any space. See?” and he swept his hand across the map with a flourish, indicating what seemed completely obvious to him. “Is there a problem?”
    “Well, no Sir,” replied Mr. Martinez. “But the people, the sick people, they enjoy the shade of the tree, especially during the hot summers. I think, I think it is a good tree.”
    “Of course it's a good tree. It's a pecan tree, isn't it?”
    “Yes, Sir, and very old. I heard from the neighbor it was the favorite tree of Father Benito, planted by his own hand.”
    “Who was this Father Benito?” asked Dr. Grady, now showing some interest. The doctor had moved to El Paso only a few years ago to take over administration of the facility, and was not familiar with the local history.
    “Some say he was a saint, healing the sick and tending to those who had little. He lived a very long life, and this tree is all that remains of what has touched his hand.”
    “Does the Church recognize him?”
    “No Doctor, and I do not know why. It is a great mystery.”
    “What finally happened to him?”
    “It is said he was recalled by the Church, and left abruptly. But, there were uprisings at the time—some say he never survived his journey home.”
    “An interesting story,” said the doctor. “But, I'm afraid I really can't do anything about it. I've already called the contractor, and he'll be in next week to take out the tree, and lay the concrete and curbing.”
    “Yes, doctor. But, I hate to see it go. I have often rested in its shade myself. I will miss it.”
    The doctor patted Mr. Martinez on the back, herding him to the door. “I understand. But, we all have to make sacrifices for the good of the facility, and we simply must have that extra parking space.”
    “Yes, Dr. Grady.”
    Tony finished his work that afternoon, and wandered over to the huge pecan tree. He gazed up at the leafy boughs. The limbs spread out above him, so green and full of life. It made him happy just to look at it. And, its shade protected at least a dozen cars in the parking lot from the heat of the blazing sun.
    Ever since he began tending the grounds, Mr. Martinez noticed that people preferred parking within its shade. It was hot in El Paso most of the year, and he was sure the customers would miss it.
    He leaned against the tree, noticing the width of the bole—it must be at least three feet across, he concluded. Yes, it would take many years for another tree to give the shade this one provided for the customers of the Tansen Cancer Research Center.
    That evening he told his wife about the tree they would cut down. She was not pleased. She also had heard the history of the tree and the man who planted it.
    “Must they?” she asked her husband.
    “Doctor Grady has decided,” he replied. “There is nothing I can do.”
    His wife had lived in El Paso all her life. “I understand the previous owner wanted the tree left alone, or else he would not sell the land to the hospital.”
    “Really?” Her husband had not heard of this.
    “Yes. That is why it has a spot all its own.”
    Mr. Martinez said nothing, thinking of the tree, and its grateful shade.
    “Can they do that, just chop it down?” she asked.
    “I guess they can,” he replied.
    “It is not right,” concluded his wife. Then, their children entered the dining room, and the tree was not mentioned again.
    The week passed as normal for Tony Martinez, and each day he ate his lunch under the shade of the big pecan tree. He would lean back against the bole of the tree, and shut his eyes, and the hot breeze of the Texas desert somehow seemed cooler, and the air sweeter. He would miss the tree.
    Finally the day came, and a crew arrived with chainsaws that bit into the ancient wood. Tony Martinez watched from a distance, with a sense of depression upon his soul. Soon it was done, the tree was gone, its wood likely sold to make furniture, though this thought did not comfort Mr. Martinez.
    Next day he noticed the barriers, and the drying curb and sidewalk. The hospital had been able to get four large parking spaces out of the area. No doubt Dr. Grady would be pleased. But, Mr. Martinez noticed the frowns of the customers who came to park. No longer was there any significant shade to be had. They would return from their treatments to the hot and stifling heat of their cars.
    The weeks continued on, and the customers came and went, though some never came back again. Others were driven away in dark vehicles with highly tinted windows. Mr. Martinez knew where they were headed, and crossed himself.
    And, the mortuaries did do a good business for a while. But then, Tony Martinez noticed the clinic had fewer people to see the doctors and staff of the Tansen Cancer Research Center.
    Business was down. The hospital reduced its staff, and Dr. Grady lost his position, replaced by a wiser man, more in tune with modern treatments, the clinic staff had said.
    Though Tony Martinez kept his job as gardener, the clinic never again experienced the popularity it once possessed. However, Dr Grady would have been pleased of one thing, for the hospital now had plenty of parking spaces for all its patients.
    And each day Mr. Martinez, who once basked in the blessed shade of the Holy Tree, reverently touched the leaves of a small pecan tree in his front yard, planted there by himself, from a little sapling he had transferred some five years earlier.



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