I have not known as many treehouses as I would like to have known, therefore, this history of the treehouses I have known is going to be alarmingly short.

1. One kid I knew had a tree house. It may have been Brock Paul. It may not have been Brock Paul. Whoever it was, his father made it because he liked to do things for his kid, like take him to Cardinals baseball games with his fourth grade teacher. This treehouse I always wanted to go up into (and really, it was less treehouse and more strategically placed wood landings plus a ladder), but I don’t think it ever happened. Kid was kind of stingy.

2. My first girlfriend had a treehouse that she had built with her father. It was amazing. Her father had designed their real house, despite not being an architect, and had incorporated some secret passageways into it, so the treehouse was sturdy, spanned two trees, and had all kinds of ropes and swinging things—it was a place where one could conceivably have lunch, and then make out for an hour. (But, no, we didn’t make out in the treehouse.)

That is it. 

If anyone has a treehouse they have known that they’d like to share, SUBMIT! or email it to monkfishjowls@gmail.com. This post is happening because I have been thinking about Ewoks a lot lately.