One Seed Can Change the World
by Michael Katz
My family had just moved into a house on Strathmore Lane in Rockville
Centre. It was 1957 and I was seven then. I remember that morning,
because my sister had been playing her phonograph record of Elvis
Presley's hit song, "Love Me Tender." For hours, she had been playing
that same LP 33 repeatedly. Was I ever glad to get out of
the house.
On that warm spring morning, my punch ball bounced into my neighbor's
backyard. After hopping over this small picket fence, I looked
around. I was astonished. I had found myself in the midst of a
secluded sanctuary, where exotic flora and Japanese Red Maples
encircled an amazing rock pond. Rising up from behind the pond
grew an old gnarled wisteria vine, which draped its leaves and pink
blossom pedals down to the water, like a shower of green flakes of jade
and abalone.
Darting between the submerged rocks, I marveled at the black and
vermilion colored goldfish. And without warning, a deep quivering
voice spoke succinctly. My heart throbbed. I turned towards
the direction of the voice. Hunching over a briarwood cane, an
old lady stood motionless, like a stone statue chiseled from white
alabaster. She wore a faded pastel housedress beneath an ashen
fishnet shawl and a three-inch brown tortoise-shell clip that held up
her long cream-colored hair in a bun. Miss Cogan, a retired
schoolteacher, was eighty-eight years old. Spying through her
gold-rimmed thick bifocals, I noticed her cloudy blue eyes.
"There were some boys from across the street and they were back here
disrupting the rocks in the pond the other day. I caught them
trying to catch the gold fish and I scared them off. I know that
you would not do such a thing. I noticed that you enjoyed
watching them swim in the pond and I saw you looking at the plants and
trees. If you would like to come into my yard, I would prefer
that you use the gate next time. You have my permission.
Does my unexpected guest have a name?"
"Yes, sure I do!" I replied defensively.
"Well of course you do. I'm sorry; my question was
misleading. What is your name?"
"It's Michael, Michael Katz, I live next door."
"Well, Michael Katz, it is my pleasure to meet you. My name is
Miss Cogan." The elderly lady extended her crooked arm. I
shook her soft, wrinkled hand. To my surprise, I soon discovered
that we shared many interests: plants, trees, wild birds, and
art. Walking slowly through the garden, she pointed out the
different varieties of plants and trees.
"This one here is a special gift from a bird." She reported,
while aiming her crooked finger towards the flowering plant beside her
knee. I gazed at its broad green leaves and small violet flowers
that cascaded down like a cluster of tiny bells.
"It was started from a seed that traveled over a thousand miles before
it reached my garden. It is not native to this part of the
country. Another unexpected guest brought it right to this
spot." She chuckled expecting that I would need to know
more. The wily schoolmarm had said only enough to bait my
curiosity. Confidently, the old pro waited.
"How did this plant get here, Miss Cogan?" She smiled, as I
asked. Shifting my weight to the other leg, I waited for her
answer.
"It's an interesting story. How would you like to join me for a
cup of tea inside?"
"Yes, thank you." I tried to sound experienced knowing that it
was the first time anyone had ever invited me for tea. The
neighborhood rumor that old-lady-Cogan was an evil witch had entirely
slipped from my memory.
"I will put on the water." Miss Cogan escorted me into her house
and then to an embroidered burgundy club chair in her living
room. Moving very slowly, she tapped and thumped the wooden
floors with the hard heals of her laced-up ankle-high black leather
shoes. I scanned the room trying to avoid whiffing an unfamiliar
aroma, which permeated her cozy cottage. At first, I thought it
was the scent of mothballs and homemade chicken soup. Finally, I
had to conclude that it was the smell of an old house and an old woman
living together for a very long time.
Rays of sunlight passed through the laced curtains into the dining
room. A rainbow reflected off a dangling glass prism from the
chandelier and shimmered onto the faded white linen tablecloth.
Bordering a fieldstone fireplace, shelves of books covered all the
walls. Displayed across the top of the marble mantelpiece were
crystal glass figurines. Everything had a special place. I
felt honored to be her guest.
"The flowering plant that you asked about came to my garden by a
migratory bird. Some birds come back in the spring after spending
their winters in the warm south." Miss Cogan paused during her
explanation, poured the tea, and then continued speaking.
"That plant is actually a flowering weed and grows wild in the tropics
and some subtropical climates. Tropical climates are different
from here; the weather is much warmer in the winter."
"How did the bird bring the plant here?" I repeated my question,
wondering if she had forgotten.
"The bird swallowed the seed, migrated up north, and in its droppings
the seed found its way into my garden. Did you know that the
beautiful islands of Hawaii came about in this same way?"
"No." I waited curiously for Miss Cogan to continue.
"At first, the Islands of Hawaii came from under the sea.
Volcanoes beneath the ocean erupted. The molten rock or lava
poured into the sea forming hills and mountains. After it cooled,
islands of rock jutted out of the water. And then, it took many
years for the wind and rain to erode the rock. This volcanic rock
crumbled into smaller and smaller pieces, eventually forming rich
topsoil. Just like the wild flower in my back yard, a flying bird
above left its droppings. In these droppings, there was a seed
and it sprouted in the volcanic soil. Over the course of
thousands of years and many birds, wonderful flowers, orchids, and even
trees covered the islands. And, it all began with one seed from a
migrating bird."
A new world opened to me on that morning. I listened until her
fascinating exposition concluded. She smiled at me and asked, "a penny
for your thoughts?"
"One seed can change the world," I replied. The old lady
chuckled.
"Yes indeed; one seed can change the world."
