Welcome to early spring, otherwise known as the Invasion of the Bradford pear trees.
They’re blooming, seemingly everywhere you look.
Many of you already probably know this, but some might not: Bradford pear trees are an invasive species. They are considered an invasive species because they overwhelm native plants and are hard to eradicate, especially once they start to spread. Might be why we are seeing more and more of them each year in thickets as we travel Platte County highways and byways.
There’s an online publication entitled “A guide on why you should never plant a Bradford pear.” I love trees as much as the next person and I even love cute tree huggers, but reading up on the Bradford pear gives an interesting perspective. Did you know Bradford pear trees are banned in some states? Sounds like a myth but it’s true. Check with Google to confirm.
“Bradford pear trees are banned in several states, including South Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Virginia,” Google confirms. Plus many cities are encouraging residents to remove these trees.
The more you know.
Apparently I’ve never taken the time to sniff a Bradford pear tree. Previously unbeknownst to me, they have an odor. According to Google: “Some say a Bradford pear tree smells like rotting fish. Others describe it as like urine or animal waste.”
Sorry to get so graphic. I’m glad this isn’t printed on scratch and sniff paper.
Public service announcement, for informational purposes only, and not to boast about lavish travel plans and whatnot. You won’t find me in the office Thursday or Friday. But go ahead and call if you want. The office phones will be forwarded to a live voice, just not my voice, (Hello, Cindy?).
By the time many of you read this I’ll likely either be asleep in a hotel room in Paducah, Kentucky or will have already arrived at my destination in a suburb of Knoxville, Tenn. On the agenda is family time in eastern Tennessee with oldest daughter and her hubby and three young ones, two of whom are no longer all that young.
Don’t take the next sentence as a complaint because it’s not, as I love what I do and enjoy the constant interaction with readers and newsmakers. But I haven’t spent a night away from Platte County for 14 months. That’s what happens to all sole proprietors, not just me. We often get glued to the job with little or no chance to escape. For example, last summer many family members took a couple of out-of-state trips to the beach and other fun places but because The Landmark’s newsy summer of 2024 was full of non-stop wild and crazy, I had to decline the opportunity to partake in the family fun. So I’ll be busy partaking over the course of the next few days.
And then I’ll be hanging out in the Broadway Historic District in Nashville for a few days and nights in May, in search of something called Hidden Bar located below Printer’s Alley. And then, depending on the yet-to-be-announced date of the game, I’ll be back in Nashville for a couple days in the fall when the Chiefs travel to play the Titans there. The football stadium in Nashville has a perfect location, within walking distance of all the activity on Broadway Street.
So don’t feel sorry for me, I plan on making up for lost time.
Paducah is a word that’s fun to say. Try it. Paducah sounds dirty but really isn’t. I love saying Paducah out loud for no reason at all, especially in the car on long road trips.
I’m gonna start using Paducah as a code word for all kinds of things.
Did I ever tell you about the time 32 years ago when I was helping coach a group of 7-and 8-year-old girls in softball? This is a true story. In fact I wrote a whole column about it after it happened in the summer of 1993 (check your stash of old Landmark editions).
One evening we were warming up before a late season tournament game, and in a grassy area near the main field I’m soft tossing underhand pitches to one of the young girls who had not shown to be much of a hitter. I felt bad for her, because I’m a softie like that. So as I’m tossing these pitches to her, I keep getting closer and closer in hopes that the shortened distance will improve her chances of hitting the ball. Then boom, you guessed it, she made contact. Very hard contact. That vicious line drive was like a heat seeking missile, and it hit me right in the Paducahs. A little girl who hadn’t hit a ball hard all season had suddenly hit three balls with one swing.
I wanted to tell her “nice hit” but I was speechless. Not because I didn’t know what to say but because I couldn’t breathe.
I was assigned to coach third base that night. Always the gamer and understanding that the show must go on, I gutted it out and performed my duties despite the throbbing Paducah pain. I had never before wanted a game to end so quickly. When the game mercifully ended, I crawled into the very back of our minivan, got as horizontal as I could, undid my pants and checked on my Paducahs. One felt like Mars, one felt like Venus. The east side of Paducah had suffered the brunt of the storm, but the west side had also been hit by softball-sized hail. I asked my wife to drive me to my longtime family doctor, who thankfully was still in his office. His nurse seemed curious to get the details, smiling but empathetically professional at the same time. When the doc took a look at my Paducah region, his first question was “Did you throw up in front of everybody?” I did not, Doc, I did not toss my Paducahs, but thanks for asking. He then got more diagnostic and clinical, saying: “It’s a good thing you came in. Seriously, a guy could lose a Paducah in a situation like this.”
Doc (RIP, he has been gone awhile) then gave me the treatment plan: “Go home, lie down flat for 24 hours with some rolled up towels and an ice pack placed directly underneath your sack of Paducahs. Keep the whole Paducah area elevated. You need to keep your Paducahs elevated for 24 hours or this could get serious.”
So that’s what I did. Our old school doc even called my house the next day to make sure that I had stayed home from work and was following the Paducah Plan. I was empowered by the fact that he felt as strongly about preserving all of Paducah as I did.
Anyway, all is well. Happy to report everything in Paducah and the surrounding area survived and it’s still a thriving community.
(Talk with Foley about all things Paducah via email to ivan@plattecountylandmark.com)
