The Trouble Tree

       The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old
  farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A
  flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw
  quit and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.
  While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On
  arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked
  toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree,
  touching the tips of the branches with both hands.
       When opening the door, he underwent an amazing
  transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and
  he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.
  Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my
  curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had
  seen him do earlier.
       "Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I
  can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing for
  sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and
  the children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night
  when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again.
       "Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the
  morning to pick 'em up, there ain't nearly as many as I
  remember hanging up the night before."

FROM:
Jimmy Caton aka Choctaw
choctaw@alaweb.com