A friend told me of the hours he spent as a child in a large cherry tree in his grandmother's backyard. The tree was very large and high, at least as he remembered it. He remembered the very first time he climbed it. He had to jump to catch hold of the lowest branch, and then pull himself by sheer muscle power up onto it. Then he could work his way up the tree. The tree seemed so high, that he got dizzy looking down, and yet, scary as it was, he couldn't resist climbing higher and higher. Finally he got very close to the top where the branches were thinner, and he could climb no higher. He stayed there, straddling a limb and holding tightly to one above it, swaying in the breeze with the leaves fluttering around him. It was an exhilarating moment for a seven-year-old. He was on top of the …