Tree Fort

This story is not about a specific day or event. This story is about an object—a tree fort. Not an ordinary tree fort, but something that was bigger than all of us.

I can't tell you the exact day, or even year for that matter, our fort was first conceived of. It was around 1974. It was strategically built in a large empty lot behind the church, adjacent to Weideman's truck farm.

Behind the Clyde’s home was a massive tree. I'm not a tree person, per se, so I can't tell you what kind it was. It was the kind of massive tree found in small towns—the kind legends were made of. It was so big around that it took 3 kids locking hands to reach around it. The first limbs were 20 feet off the ground. To build a fort in such a tree would have been too large an undertaking, except that we had my brother Kenny in our camp.

My brother Ken was a junior engineer. When it came to tearing things apart and putting them back together, there was no one better. He made counterfeit quarters. He made a go kart out of old pinto parts and a Wisconsin engine that did 60 miles per hour. Most of all, he had dreams. He and Jeff Slabaugh had a design for a submarine they were going to build to explore the pit behind Ester's house. He designed every one of our forts, including this one.

The first thing was to figure a way up the tree. We took railroad spikes and hammered them into the trunk—perfectly spaced. Then came the task of gathering building supplies. We asked all of our dads for lumber and nails—and when that didn’t work, we took what we could find like a band of Artful Dodgers.

There were all kinds of places to find stuff and we exhausted them all. We are not talking about some poorly built structure. All of our main support beams were 2 x 6's or 2 x 8's. It was sturdy. It was about 8 feet wide on the first floor.

We decided the tree was big enough for more, and Ken, being the engineer of the group, devised a second floor. It rose another 10 or 15 feet into the tree, smaller but just as sturdy. To get to the second floor, we ascended through a trap door and it provided security from would-be marauders. You never know who might want to take your tree fort. We were prepared.

The second level had drop-down covers over the windows in case of rock or BB gun attacks. We kept a supply of railroad rocks for firing at enemies if needed, (our favorite rock for throwing by the way). We kept a coffee can to pee into, just in case someone was actually daring enough to climb into "our" tree. And yes, we used that line of defense once. We were the rough and tumble Inwood boys, and like most Inwoodians, we didn't take crap from anyone. For my years there, we never lost a battle, we never needed to redesign—and the summer days spent 30 feet off the ground were golden, and have remained so in my memory, and always will. It was a blast.

We did all kinds of things in our tree fort. We were young and crazy, definitely not afraid of heights. We climbed anything we could get a hold of. We held meetings in the tree, planning things to do the next day. Often we found ourselves just sitting, shooting the breeze. It was right next to Weideman's barn. Some of the kids climbed onto the barn roof from the tree. I wonder today what our parents must have thought about our 30 foot palace in the air. Thinking back, it must have been scary for them on some counts—but they let us do it, and knowing what I know now, I love them for that. Back then, we were invincible and our parents let us believe it.

There are probably people who would say the Inwood kids of 1979 were little hellions, destined to never amount to any good. That may be true in some sense, but at the time we had something to be proud of. Yes, we got in trouble once in awhile and maybe we had too much time on our hands, but our tree fort symbolized what was good about Inwood. Resourcefulness, ability, desire and teamwork—just to name a few things that come to mind. When I think about what we accomplished, I am still filled with pride. Not one single parent was involved with the building. All the materials for the tree were hoisted up by the strong hands of rural kids.

We poured our sweat and blood into the work. I remember how it was a “big deal” to us—and how it remains so in my memory. I thoroughly enjoyed growing up in Inwood. I felt sorry for kids that never got the chance to live like we lived. I secretly hope every kid has a "fort" in one form or another. I'll never forget the magic of it all.