The following is my recollection of a recent discussion over Sunday dinner with certain members of my family. Names have remained the same to incriminate and embarrass the innocent. I may have completely inventedtaken some poetic license as to the exact dialogue but the general sentiment is there. Since I can’t remember how this conversation began I am going to start in the middle and let the highly intelligent MoB readers figure it out:
My Little Brother Justin: I can’t read that book to my kids. I cry after the first three pages. Every time.
Me: Which book?
Little Bro: The Giving Tree.
Me: Really? You actually shed tears?
Little Bro: Yup
Little Bro’s lovely wife, Venessa: Me, too.
My mother (to me): You mean you don’t cry when you read The Giving Tree aloud to the boys?
Me: Uh….no.
My mother: Don’t you know what it’s about??
Me: (offended) Of course I know what it’s about .
Little Bro: (as if I said I didn’t know what it’s about): It’s about children growing up and moving away and not needing their parents anymore. Doesn’t that make you sad?? Are you some sort of sociopath? Do you cry at ANYTHING?
Me: I cry every time I watch Steel Magnolias, Terms of Endearment and Beaches…and, um…. whenever I listen to Sarah MacLachlan. I am perfectly normal.
Venessa runs to fetch the book so my family can watch me read it aloud without crying, which I refuse to do. I watched the O.J. Simpson trial and I know what happens when you try to prove a point through re-enactments. (If the glove doesn’t fit…) So the family proceeded to analyze why I don’t cry when I read The Giving Tree. I suggested that it might have something to do with the huge, creepy picture of Shel Silverstein on the back of the book – which gave me bad dreams as a little girl.
But truthfully I never gave this a lot of thought. I didn’t realize that crying was required. Now that I did, I pondered my obvious insensitivity and came to the conclusion that I have always embraced The Giving Tree as a happy book about unconditional love and friendship. I never actually felt sorry for the tree because it wanted to give all these things away – and the boy comes back in the end so that’s all good. As an adult, I have gifted this book to many grown friends who were important to me…many who didn’t even have children at the time. These were friends who I wanted to know how happy they made me, how much I enjoyed giving pieces of myself to them, and that I would always be there for them in life. That’s not sad. It’s wonderful, right?
Sniff.
