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Erma Bombeck's family will dedicate a tree in the late humorist's memory at the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop at 4 p.m. on Saturday, April 21. Teri Rizvi, the workshop's founder, writes about the deep meaning of memorial trees.

In February, my husband's early Valentine's Day gift arrived in a wheelbarrow.

I watched a red Japanese maple tree being planted in his mother's memory a few steps away from the sturdy tree that blooms for his father near the Anderson Center on the University of Dayton's campus.

"This is the best gift ever," he proclaimed.

Everyone — from her five devoted sons to the family's servants in Pakistan - called her Apa, Urdu for "sister." Her formal schooling ended after fifth grade, but she devoured the newspaper daily and dispensed wisdom and compassion gained from a life that spanned at least 85 years by family math. Her sudden death of a heart attack in 2005 just days before a family visit broke our hearts.

When I walk over to grab a quick lunch at Kennedy Union, I take a moment to brush aside the mulch covering the plaque under the graceful branches of a Pacific sunset maple tree. My father-in-law's legacy comes into focus: "In memory of Shahid Hussain Rizvi Who Dedicated His Life for the Betterment of His Family and Education."

Across the world in Lahore, Pakistan, my in-laws carefully tended the mango and date trees that stretched majestically above the walls that encircled the family home. During my first trip to Lahore to get married 30 years ago, they proudly showed off the famous Shalimar Gardens, centuries-old Mughal-style terraced gardens — a peaceful oasis in an often-turbulent country.

On campus, the chapel bells remind us of the power of faith. In Lahore, the lyrical Islamic call for prayer can be heard in the streets five times a day.

Two religions. Two vastly different cultures divided by nearly 8,000 miles. Yet this couple, who never even visited America, would feel at home on a campus that values both faith and family.

The trees on the University of Dayton's sprawling campus often hold hidden and deeply personal meaning. Some of us can't walk under their foliage without stealing a moment to reminisce, to pray silently.

We know more than 1,545 magnolia, white ash, pine and other trees border pathways and stand like sentinels on the campus lawns and in the neighborhoods. Our scientists can calculate the reduction of the University's carbon footprint every time a tree is planted.

Yet neither is the true measure of a single tree.

Friends of James "Gerbs" Grabowski '89 recently donated a swamp white oak that was planted near the gazebo in view of the iconic Hail Mary statue. Gerbs, who died last summer, proposed to his wife Tracey at the gazebo in 1991. For generations to come, this mighty oak will shade other young lovers. A young friend of the family promises to "high five" the tree every time he passes it on his way to the library.

The family of humorist Erma Bombeck '49 chose a hardy hoopsi blue spruce to plant this spring near her Ohio historical marker outside St. Mary Hall. "They planted trees and crabgrass came up," the plaque will read. What better tribute to a delightfully funny writer whose newspaper columns chronicling suburban family life hung on the refrigerator doors of our youth?

During Reunion Weekend in June, the family of Congressman Chuck Whalen '42 will bless a dawn redwood tree in front of Roesch Library, which houses a collection of Whalen's Congressional and personal papers.

I know exactly how these families feel about these trees.

This spring, when the crimson leaves on the Japanese maple make their first regal appearance, their beauty will remind me what a tree's worth.

You can't put a price on it.

— Teri Rizvi

Teri Rizvi is associate vice president for University communications at the University of Dayton and founder of the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop.