In my parents’ garden stood a great pear tree. It’s growth was a marvel, though its fruit were small and woody. Had they been softer and sweeter my father might have lived a few more years. As it was, they both died less than a couple of days of one another. First the tree, then my father.
There was plenty of space behind our house. The old man in any case would not have been able to work on the entire garden. There was no reason to bring the tree down, except for the fact that it had no use. So, my father, one day, took out his axe and saw, cut down the trunk and the branches, and stacked them carefully up in the corner of the yard. The tree’s stump however jutted out of the ground. It didn’t look good. The roots had to be dug out. The tree gripped on hard, but, in the end, my father won. He filled the hole, finally, with earth, flattened the ground, and went to bed, exhausted but satisfied. He got up early the next morning. As he always did. Shortly afterwards he fell over and was dead.
He knew heavy work could put his life in danger. He had only just come out of the hospital after a third heart attack. He was supposed to take it easy, as the doctors had expressly advised.
But work was his life. Already as a child. He had to help his father on the building site, carrying stones. He learned to be a builder, acquired a Master’s certificate, eventually running his own company. Exhausted from working on the site, he would still sit for hours in the evenings in his office, doing his accounts or brooding over estimated costs for new orders.
Despite his efforts things grew worse. It was no longer the time for companies with four or five employees. Through hard work he kept his head above water for a few more years. Then his heart wouldn’t play along any more. It forced him to slow down. He lost control of the business. The workers began to slack off. Deadlines weren’t met. He had to let the company go.
There was however more work to do. My sister and brother both got married. The young families each needed a home to live in. So my father had two more houses to build.
But these also came to an end. What was he supposed to do? Sit around the whole day – useless? Luckily, the garden was still there. There was more to do there than a little weeding and flower watering – and my father could work hard.
So the old, useless pear tree came just at the right time.
(Quoted from: Jupp Hartmann. The Art of Being Useless)
