Dear Anna,

Don’t ask me why this letter has taken weeks to write itself. I have asked the same questions and have no answers. I do hope you’re still at Basic Training by the time the letter gets to you. Or I’ll add it to the list of things I’ll never forgive myself of. Especially since I’ve already bragged to Roger that I’ve written you. (LIAR)

Your mother reports you are doing well despite some conflict with teenagers (there are probably a lot of them there). Unfortunately, I have little advice to give in that department. As an officer I frequently avoided dealing with the first term Airmen, mostly because I didn’t really need to. There’s always a Sergeant. Except for one time when my Sergeant forgot to pick up his new first term Airman at the Frankfurt airport and she called me from the Airport Help Desk in tears. I got involved in that one.

My two cherry trees continue to suffer from black spot disease. Hang on, let me look up the actual name.

My two cherry trees continue to suffer from Blumeriella jaapii. This is the fourth year in a row. It’s become a part time job every morning to go out and clean up the fallen foliage, hoping that I can reduce the spore spread. In my research I know that the fungus releases the spores during wet weather, so I try extra hard to clean up right before rain.

I just can’t get it under control.

This will be the fourth year that the two trees will be completely defolliaged (defolliated?) by the end of August. Drew, the arborist, suggests fertilizer treatments and an antifungal. But when I asked him if I should cut one of the bigger cherry trees down to help with air flow, or if I wasn’t doing a good job of cleaning up the leaves, he looked at me quizzically, which makes me wonder if he knows anything about Blumeriella jaapii.

Regardless. I continue to be concerned for all my trees. The Tulip Poplar out front remains my favorite, but now that she’s alone (her friend, the Ash Tree, succumbed to the emerald ash borer a few years ago.) I worry about her roots in this heat.

I wanted our grass to look nicer, so I hired a lawn company, and they’ve been spraying the yard. Killing all the clover. Which just makes my yard that was 75% clover now look like a desert. This fall I plan to put down fresh dirt, grass seed, and mulch around the trees, which reportedly helps keep tree roots cool.

I worry about my trees, Anna. The Japanese maples along the sides are all loosing their leaves up top. What is that called? Dieback? Something like that. My hornbeam got a split down the truck from fungus, and now one side droops down something fierce.

What else is happening? Oh, I’ve been restoring the side table of a dear friend. Its an old, rickety thing. Mahogany legs and poplar top with mahogany veneer. I took it apart to sand, and have been absolutely defeated by the spindle legs. I now regret getting rid of my lathe, because I could have just mounted it and sanded the little crannies easily. I’ve tried several different ways to mount it to my drill, tried several different sanding blocks of different softnesses. And Anna. It’s defeating me. Last night I spent four hours and got most of one spindle leg sanded. Now I have to do the rest, because I can’t have one sanded and the rest not. I took a little break to glue some supports back together that I broke while disassembling, only to realize that the glue I was using needed to have one side damp (I should have read the instructions) because it cures with the evaporation of moisture. I got the glue all over my hands and went to wash my hands off, and then it started curing on my fingers. –stupid—

And then I said, “oh well” and went back to sanding. Only to realize by the end of the night that the mahogany sawdust was sticking to the glue on my fingers, and now I have reddish fingers.

Reddish fingers and a poorly sanded spindle leg, and a huge piece of replacement mahogany veneer waiting for it’s new home on top of the poplar.

We’ll add it to the list of pain and suffering I inflict upon myself through silly decisions.

I hope you are doing okay at Basic. I never did. I had two semesters of school at Norwich subjected to drill sergeants and yelling and silly basic training style antics. Sleep deprivation, homesickness, and my desperation to please created a stew pot of weeping. I sucked at almost everything I did, Anna. I consistently racked at the “bottom third”. I was a poor runner, had little to no upper body strength, and predictably cried when someone yelled at me. I knew intellectually what was happening, but couldn’t seem to get my body to cooperate.

Then I spent a summer at “Field Training” between my Sophomore and Junior year, (The Air Force’s officer training for ROTC students). It was much the same style. “Get off the bus! Move faster! Why are your shoelaces flying around?? Are you trying to fly away? You’re not a pilot yet!” Despite a solid two semesters of getting yelled at previously, my body reacted again with tears.

Struggle bus. Every day.

But I didn’t quit. Turns out they can’t force you to quit for crying. Though maybe they should be able to.

I continued my lackluster officership through till Major. Consistently ranking bottom third with my peers. Continuing to cry. (WHY??).

I trust you’re doing better than I did. Though things like that tend to test different things for different people. My trial was being terrified and homesick and weepy. Some people’s trial is “this is incredibly stupid” and continuing to stick it out with the hopes that things will be less stupid later.

OH! I forgot to tell you! Guess what plant volunteered in my back yard this summer!!?? An AMERICAN PERSIMMON TREE. I realize that it’s not going to fruit unless I get a tree of the opposite sex next to it. But its so young I don’t know what it is yet. Absolutely thrilled.

I know from personal experience that military training can be all consuming, please do not worry about writing me unless you have a magic cure for Blumeriella jaapii. Anything else can wait for when you get done and we can swap stories.

Thinking of you,

Lisa

(ret. Major Phillips)