Chainsaw parables, chapter one.

Right after Katrina hit New Orleans I went to an emergency responder training course. I believe Jim Robey was the trainer, but I can't remember if he uttered this observation. "To those people in charge of disaster relief, there is nothing more frightening than a truckload of the men's club of first methodist wheeling up, cranking their chainsaws as they jump from the truck."

I know what he meant, but almost everyday for the past couple of weeks those truckloads of wild at heart folks (some women are just as crazy) have been helping thousands of Alabamians see a little daylight in the darkness. Not all methodists, mind you, but all of the same heart.

I was in one of those groups Saturday. Rising early I gathered my gloves, my "wildthing" Poulan, a fuel can and my straw hat, jumped in my old pick-up truck, cranked up the radio, and headed toward the church parking lot. Country music was blaring from the speakers, or speaker, the left side doesn't work. 'I'm gonna love you, forever and ever, forever and ever, Amen." George Strait. Dang straight. The morning air was cool blowing into the open window as I drummed the side of the truck with my fingers. There was no point in rolling up the window as I would just have to roll it back down when I stopped since you can't open my truck door from the inside. Perfect Saturday morning. I had my tankard of coffee by my side.

The testosterone level was on the rise as I wheeled into the parking lot. The level sank just a bit as I remembered to get my 50 spf sunscreen to avoid the ridicule of a friend who admonishes me about such things.

A group of ten or twelve gathered, aimed and figured awhile, and headed to the Guntersville area. We worked all day. Two work groups. Four sites.

My work group started with four chain saws. We left the first work sight with one operable. But we kept on working.

There were many, many amusing, inspirational and downright scary moments Saturday.

But I saw something happen that I never saw before. I saw it happen twice. I had heard it could happen, but I thought it was one of those things people say can happen, but it never really does, like when you cross your eyes and they never really stick in that position.

The first time it happened was the most memorable because it was the first time. We were all working on clearing huge trees and limbs from a yard and fence behind a mobile home. Dalton was cutting into pieces a large trunk which had fallen, starting from the top of the stripped trunk and working his way back toward the huge root ball. At the same time Keith was working around a fence that he was trying to clear, right beside the big hole left by the root ball from the tree that Dalton was working on. When Dalton had shortened the trunk to about fifteen or twenty feet, the strangest thing happened.

The tree, which had practically been lying on the ground, slowly at first, began to rise. It picked up a little speed, and then all of a sudden, the huge trunk was standing back up, not quite straight, but standing back up just the same. Fortunately Keith was not standing in the hole where the root ball had been, because all of a sudden there was a tree in it. It was surreal. The same thing happened with another tree a bit later.

When Dalton removed enough of the weight that was holding it down, the tree was able to stand back up on its on. Not completely straight, but standing on its on again.

These few days after that ridiculous Wednesday have been full of frustration all across Alabama. We've been knocked down so hard it seems impossible to get back up. So many want to help,but the damage seems too much.

But don't give up. Just go out and keep lifting whatever weight you can off your neighbors.

Before long, you'll get to see them stand back up on their own.

It really happens.

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