A dear old friend of mine is not doing well these days. I'm speaking of one of the largest urban parks in the United States, Houston’s Memorial Park.

This year’s historic drought has severely impacted much of Texas and Memorial Park has not been immune from its effects.

I often like to go for a run around the Seymour Lieberman Exercise Trail (a 2.93 mile run that is used by nearly three million health fanatics every year). You could not help but see the telltale orange tag on numerous trees that needed to be removed.

I'd read the stories on CultureMap detailing how the Houston area is expected to lose 66 million trees due to this year's drought, 10 percent of the 660 million trees in the area, how Memorial Park could lose up to 80 percent of its trees itself. But the full impact of this did not hit me until I finally saw what the park looks like with the trees cut down.

The gaping holes I saw were much worse than I ever imagined. It was as if an insane maniac with a chainsaw, hell bent on destruction, was let loose to do appalling damage. These trees have survived hurricanes, ice storms and high winds, but finally succumbed to lack of water. More than 5,000 Memorial Park trees (mostly red oak and pine) are already scheduled to be taken down and removed.

During a recent run, I thought of the history the trees were witness to. Before becoming a park in 1924, the area was known as Camp Logan and was the site of a horrific riot in 1917 that resulted in the deaths of four soldiers and 16 civilians. In the end, a total of 19 men would be executed, and 41 were given life sentences.

It’s hard to imagine such violence took place where people now seek tranquility from the big city hustle and bustle.

Thankfully, the trees have also seen happier moments such as Arnold Palmer winning the 1957 Houston Open Golf Tournament (collecting a purse of $7,500), at the 18-hole Memorial Park Golf Course which opened back in 1936, along with countless picnics, family reunions, art festivals and people simply seeking refuge in a little bit of nature.

So where do we go from here? Henry David Thoreau said it much better than I ever could when he wrote these words in A Succession of Forest Trees:

"Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders."

I, for one, hope we have faith in new seeds and that future generations can expect new wonders for one of Houston’s magnificent gems.