I'm tired of defending my reaction to the poisoning of the trees at Toomer's Corner.
I was sad. I was upset. I was angry. I was irrational at first.
I was hurt.
And I wasn't alone.
What outsiders don't understand is this ordeal isn't entirely about those two beautiful, gnarled 130-year-old live oaks that stand at Toomer's Corner. Losing a landmark with that much history is difficult, to be sure, but there are fully-grown replacement trees. There will always be a Corner.
It's about the memories I have as a little girl of my mom walking me up to Toomer's after 22-14.
It's about my mom's college roommate (whom she met potluck at Auburn in 1975 and along with another hallmate, was best friends with until the day Ann died of ovarian cancer almost three years ago) insisting I accompany her to that fantastic 2001 Florida game that we won on a field goal in the rain. I hobbled down to Toomer's on what turned out to be a severely sprained ankle. I was in a cast for weeks after that, and it was worth every second.
It's about a sea of people and toilet paper after an Iron Bowl. And a bigger sea after an SEC Championship. And, though it didn't seem possible, an entire ocean after a National Championship.
It's about seeing people you know after games like those. Some are your best friends and some you haven't seen in a while. And never meeting a stranger. They're all family.
It's about how the the cheerleaders, the band, and the team ride by Toomer's on their way back in town following a road victory.
It's about how nearly every Auburn fan has stories just like these of his or her family and friends and the Corner.
The thing that hurts the most about this situation isn't that some crazy person poisoned old trees in the name of a football rivalry. It's the memory of a kid on his daddy's shoulders screaming "War Eagle." It's parking miles away and sprinting to throw toilet paper at a tree. It's how good that lemonade is. It's that picture split between Toomer's in the 1800s and Toomer's today. It's about the Corner and how much it means to Auburn and to Auburn men and women.
That is what "Al from Dadeville" attacked when he poisoned those trees. He attacked an integral part of our culture.
There are more tragic things that happen in the world. Even beyond that, trees die everyday. I get it. But I don't want to hear it right now.
Give me a moment, or perhaps several, to recover from the gash in my heart.
Auburn is about more than football. Auburn is more than a school. It's a close-knit community and it's a way of life. God and family and hard work. That's Auburn.
Someone attacked Auburn and it makes me sad.
So leave me alone about it for a little while.
