It was the summer of 2020 when I arrived in Albuquerque. I was eager to explore my new surroundings and began taking long walks in the cool of the evening. Pandemic precautions kept most folks at a distance, but I was getting to know my new neighbors by the things that adorned their homes and yards. As I walked, I noticed an uncanny proliferation of tree stumps—most knee height but some taller than I. These arboreal vestiges felt lonely, sad, and a little quirky. They gave me pause and brought to my mind the Woodmen of the World tree-stump tombstones that dot cemeteries across the country.
Woodmen of the World is a fraternal organization dating back to the nineteenth century. The Woodmen believed in the dignity of a marked grave and so provided for their members, as part of the death benefit, a tombstone shaped like a tree stump. More than a few folks bought in to the idea. To warrant such a marker one need not be a lumberjack; the sawed-off limbs were meant to symbolize a life cut short. As I contemplated and compared the odd ruins of urban trees to those stone monuments carved to resemble them, I wondered why anyone would want to have a tombstone in their front yard.