Now that I’ve got your attention, let’s talk about the Kellett School.

And, yes… there was a suspicious death. Someone murdered the Kellett Tree.

It happened a while back. You’ve seen them. Those contorted evergreens that have been knocked sideways by some power they’ve had no control over—most likely the wind—and then somehow reestablished their upwards growth. Fortunately, there are a few other similar trees around.

The original Kellett Tree was like no other on campus. I first saw it when I was standing in the old pump house in front of WAK. I was sipping coffee and waiting for a class to begin at Old Main, and glanced towards Nash center. There, in a grouping of three trees beside the curved walk to Nash, was a tree that had been bent to such an extreme angle it was hard to believe it had survived the trauma.

As I stood contemplating the tree, I felt a sort of kinship to it, having been knocked down myself with the unexpected loss of my career before receiving new hope through an equally-unexpected chance to finish my degree. I noticed that the top of the evergreen was reestablishing a path straight towards the sky. The Kellett tree had overcome whatever had beaten it down, and it was stronger for the experience.

That top part of the tree seemed, more than any other portion, to symbolize the work of Lakeland College—specifically the mission of the Kellett School, helping to reshape the lives of those who have experienced similar fates. The pump house became a regular stop on those days I had classes at Old Main.

I thought about trying to convince the college to recognize the tree as an official symbol of the Kellett School, but never got around to acting on the idea.

Then one day early last year I took a sip of coffee and looked towards Nash. There were only two trees in the group. The Kellett Tree was gone, and in its place was a stack of firewood.

I was furious. I felt that my new life had somehow been chopped down with the tree. I began searching for someone to blame. Had the tree somehow upset somebody, who had then stalked and killed it in cold, uh… sap?

Had an accident occurred, or was it simply a thoughtless act by some uncaring punk with an unregistered and unsheathed chain saw? Might the wind have finally prevailed?

The answer provided no closure because there was no one to punish. The college had begun preparing for its sesquicentennial celebration, and the area in front of Old Main—between Krueger Hall and Nash Center—was slated to be transformed into the new campus entrance. All the existing trees were to be removed and new ones planted. The college itself had done the dirty deed, albeit with the best of intentions.

I’ve decided to not make the same mistake twice. I won’t remain silent while those other unsuspecting bent trees might be in peril for who-knows-what devious reasons. I’m using this column to call publicly for the naming of a Kellett Tree—at least if a proper one can still be found. There are a couple of possible candidates south of the student center on either side of South Drive, and one at the south end of Verhulst Center.

If a good one can’t be found, there’s an alternative. The brick sidewalk across the new front entrance is laid near the site of the original tree. A commemorative brick, or a plaque beside the walk could mark its position, and we wouldn’t have to worry about anything happening to another tree over the course of the next 150 years or so.

Yeah. That’d be nice. Maybe even better.