An open letter to The Giving Tree

I could not get this book out of my head tonight....and felt the need to write about it. Here's the story in case you've forgotten the details:

The Giving Tree
by Shel Silverstein

Once there was a tree..... and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade. And the boy loved the tree.......very much. And the tree was happy.

But time went by. And the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone. Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, "Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy."

"I am too big to climb and play," said the boy. "I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money. Can you give me some money?"

"I'm sorry," said the tree, "but I have no money, I have only leaves and apples. Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in the city. Then you will have money and you will be happy."

And so the boy climbed up the tree and gathered her apples and carried them away. And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time... and the tree was sad. And then one day the boy came back and the tree shook with joy and she said, "Come, Boy, climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and be happy."

"I am too busy to climb trees," said the boy. "I want a house to keep me warm. I want a wife and I want children, and so I need a house. Can you give me a house?"

"I have no house," said the tree. "The forest is my house, but you may cut off my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy." And the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build his house. And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time. And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak. "Come, Boy," she whispered, "Come and play."

“I am too old and sad to play," said the boy. "I want a boat that can take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?"

"Cut down my trunk and make a boat," said the tree. "Then you can sail away...... and be happy." And so the boy cut down her trunk and made a boat and sailed away.

And the tree was happy.... but not really.

And after a long time the boy came back again.

"I am sorry, Boy," said the tree, "but I have nothing left to give you. My apples are gone."
"My teeth are too weak for apples," said the boy.
"My branches are gone," said the tree. "You cannot swing on them.”
"I am too old to swing on branches," said the boy.
"My trunk is gone," said the tree. "You cannot climb."
"I am too tired to climb," said the boy. "I am sorry," sighed the tree. "I wish that I could give you something------ but I have nothing left. I am just an old stump."
"I don't need very much now," said the boy. "just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired."
"Well," said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, "Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest." And the boy did.

And the tree was happy.

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I'm not quite sure what brought this story into my mind this evening, but once it was there, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I have warring memories of this book from childhood. On one side, I have the very charming, eye clouding nostalgic memory of adoring this story for the simple black and white illustrations that so beautifully exemplify the concept of self sacrificing love.

On the other side, I have the vivid memory of an indignant, overly sensitive 8 year old me fighting back tears as I hollered at my mom - "The Boy didn't DESERVE the Tree. How could he be so....so....SELFISH?! How could he cut! her! down!"

To be honest, knowing me, the latter is probably the accurate memory, and all warm fuzzy feelings connected with the story came about from later readings - but for whatever reason, I remembered the story tonight and was really troubled by it...and felt the need to write what my freshman English teacher called, "an emotional response," to sort it out before going to bed.


An Open Letter to the Tree:


Dear Ms. Tree:


Thank you for your cautionary tale. On behalf of all women who have been used by a man until they are little else than a lonely desperate lump, I feel your pain. I know what it's like to experience the honeymoon phase of a relationship - full of games, sharing, and laughter...the days all drifting together into one beautiful stretch of contentment that you naively believe will never end.
But as you know, they always do.
I too know the feelings of longing while you watch the boy, turned man, that used to enjoy only you- find joy in someone new...and the inner shivers of excitement and hope that course through you when they return in a moment of weakness.
Like yourself, I gladly offered my support and love hoping that I would find happiness in his joy - even if it was without me.
But I'm writing this letter to tell you in case no one ever has: The Boy was an ungrateful asshole. You deserve so much better than a man-child who used and ravaged you until there was nothing left of yourself for you to enjoy. You could have grown mighty and tall long ago. Given life to so many more thankful, kind people - had not your emotions and inability to let go of the past blinded you to your potential.
By the time you receive this letter, the Boy will most certainly have died. Good riddance. Please do not mourn the loss of said ingrate another day. Your story has inspired me to put an end to pathetic attempts at self sacrifice in hopes of winning back lost love - and I write this letter to remind you that tomorrow is a new day - and you have the ability to grow again and reach heights previously unattainable while pining after a dumb male. Your kind and giving demeanor will most definitely attract the right sort of man this time around - as long as you remember to respect yourself and not settle for the first thing that wants to climb your trunk and eat your apples.
Thank you again for sharing your story of years lost. Although I hurt for you that you suffered countless lonely nights, I rest in the wisdom of your age that you will do things differently this time around - and keep sharing your story in hopes that future women will avoid wasting their talents and gifts on awful boys.

All the best,
Esther