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“You can’t kill a willow!” Polonia’s Resilience Symbol Exactly a year ago we harvested the best batch of pussy willows ever.   Ron and Dave trimmed and cut so hard the neighbor ran out of her house, yelling, “You killed my tree!”   I responded, “Your husband knows. Ask him.” I added, “You can’t kill a pussy willow.”   Steaming, she stomped back inside.   Lech Solecki, the resident-immigrant who planted the tree, knew this. 2020’s harvest filled an entire car garage bay.  Then C-19 hit.  Government closed our churches, as ecclesiastics succumbed with a wrestler’s, “Uncle!”  The year of the unknown numbed us.  We slowly succumbed to bleak announcements of infected percentages and places of worship fined for exceeding half-a-dozen worshippers. Following restaurant rescue tactics, some considered drive-by palm distributions.  Police then blocked church driveways as leadership proclaimed, “Forbidden!”  For the first time in 60 years, I did not weave a single palm.  No procession, no

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