When we lived in Oak Ridge many years ago, a tree in our yard fell down but not all the way. It wedged into another tree and needed coaxing to the ground. My husband sought some assistance in making that happen, so he called my brother to come to the rescue. After all, who else would you call on to orchestrate a delicate procedure other than levelheaded never-take-chances C. Long?
He arrived on the scene in ghostbuster eagerness to tackle whatever tree, or monster, needed tackling. And so they began. Initially he and Barry did what great minds always do when strategizing the fate of a tree -- they huddled in the yard, looked up, down, and around, studied the slope of the land, made predictions and then came up with a Houdini-style plan that involved a rope.