the trees’ destruction
satisfied something in soul
of man who felled it

On a hillock back of the girls’ dormitorv there was a nice stand of second-growth hardwoods, mostly maples and beeches — the same in which I played the part of Daniel Boone with my trusty broomstick rifle. In the middle of this little woodlot there was one towering tree that had somehow escaped the ax and saw when the village was built. I do not recall what sort of tree it was except that it was a hardwood, and it was a noble tree, rising far above all the other trees, a landmark visible from any¬ where in town. Now there lived in Benzonia a man who served in some official capacity; member of the county road commission or the county surveyor’s crew, or something similar. This man looked upon this tree every day, and apparently it offended him. It had survived, the only tree in the whole township that dated back to the original forest, and he seems to have felt that he ought to do something about it. He consulted the blueprints on which the village had been platted and discovered that this tree grew right in the center of what had been marked out as a highway. The highway had never been built, and never would be built, because it would be a dead-end street at each end, it led neither to nor past anything of consequence, and to build it would have required the builders to cross two deep ravines. It was wholly impractical, and everybody knew it, and to this day it remains unconstructed. But the plat said there was a roadway there, and the big tree was a trespasser. So this petty official got a few men with saws and axes, went up to the hillock, and cut the tree down.

It came down with a soul-satisfying crash and it lay, butt-end upward, on a steep hillside, leaving a flat stump as broad as a dining room table. It stayed where it fell, slowly rotting. Nobody cut it into logs or did anything else with it; nobody had ever intended to do anything with it, it was just a big tree that deserved to be laid low. A number of people shook their heads and made noises of disapproval, and my father, thinking that the tree was on ground owned by the academy, lodged a protest. But there was the plat, the tree grew in the middle of what had been laid out as a public highway, and nothing could be done. Presumably its destruction satisfied something in the soul (if that is the word for it) of the man who felled it. Anyway, what was one tree more or less in Michigan? It was gone, and my small sister found that the big flat stump made a fine place for her to play house with her dolls.

From Waiting for the Morning Train: A Michigan Boyhood by Bruce Catton (Doubleday: Garden City, N.Y., 1972).

But the plat said there was a roadway there, and the big tree was a trespasser. So this petty official got a few men with saws and axes, went up to the hillock, and cut the tree down.

Presumably its destruction satisfied something in the soul (if that is the word for it) of the man who felled it.

This passage of Mr. Catton’s came to mind when I read the article, ‘Zombified’ C.D.C., Hobbled by Cuts, Struggles to Fulfill Scientific Mission by Apoorva Mandavilli science and global health reporter at The New York Times.

Ms. Mandavilli writes:

For decades, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention was the undisputed global leader in public health. Its scientists helped train health officials worldwide. In the United States, it was the primary source of guidance for prevention and treatment of diseases, including diabetes, H.I.V. and the seasonal flu.

But after a year and a half in the cross hairs of Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s drive to remake public health policy, the agency is a skeleton of the powerhouse it was.

The changes have hindered the C.D.C.’s ability to respond to outbreaks as measles spreads at home and Ebola abroad, and to issue timely guidance on vaccinations as cooling temperatures kick off the respiratory season, according to current and former employees. State and local health departments, which rely on the C.D.C. for resources and technical advice, have been stymied by delays. Entire divisions have been shuttered, including teams that worked on smoking, sexual violence, child abuse and falls among older adults.

From the very first day of Mr. Trump’s second term, when he withdrew the country from the W.H.O., his administration has sought to upend the nation’s health policies and align them with his political priorities.

Last year, an H.H.S. official directed the C.D.C. to award a no-bid contract — a rarity for the agency — to Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute to explore whether immunizing pregnant women would lead to autism in their children, a theory that Mr. Kennedy has espoused but that has been debunked by numerous studies. To pay for the research, the C.D.C. took $362,000 from a program that provides free vaccines to about half of American children.

The agency’s dysfunction is alarming public health experts even outside the country, who had long relied on the C.D.C.’s expertise during global crises. At a recent meeting of global flu experts, Dr. Jernigan said, “people truly believe that we are less prepared now and less capable of having a coordinated response than we were before the pandemic.”

I asked myself, what was it about the CDC being the undisputed global leader in public health that offended the man running the United States Deptartment of Health and Human Services?

Where was this plat that said there was a roadway there in place of the CDC, and the CDC was a trespasser. So that this petty official could get a few men with saws and axes and cut the CDC down?

And now that the CDC has been ‘zombified’, does it its zombification satisfy something in the soul (if that is the word for it) of the man who felled it?

I mean, who wouldn’t want to upend a nation’s health policies and align them with political priorities.

Anyway, what is one life more or less in America?