Did you ever read The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein when you were young? Or perhaps you read it to your children or grandchildren? Even though it has been one of the most popular children’s books since it was published in 1964, I have always found it thoroughly depressing. How could that little boy just keep taking and taking from the tree? Especially when the tree demonstrated such pure love and generosity? She said “yes” to his every request, and yet, until his dying day, the little boy focused only on himself and his own needs and never noticed how he had pillaged the tree of all she had to offer (leaves, fruit, branches and trunk). How could someone be so thoroughly self-centered and oblivious to the generosity surrounding him?
After I read The Giving Tree to one of my daughters years ago, I immediately put it in the giveaway pile and never wanted to see it again. (Here is a link to a video reading of it if you want to hear it for yourself).
Why do I bring it up now? I was feeling like the tree last week as my daughter prepared to move across country for a new job. She needed a good amount of support as she navigated the complicated process of resigning from her job…coordinating details regarding the move…and processing the complicated and conflicted emotions of this next step of independence as she moved far from home and family. I could never strike the right balance of encouragement and nurturing when we spoke. If I was encouraging and offering advice, she wanted a silent shoulder. If I listened silently, I wasn’t being supportive. Through it all, if she called I answered. If she texted, I responded immediately—always happy to help in any way even though more often than not our calls or text chats ended with one or both of us hurt or angry.
Somewhere in the midst of her emotional ride and stepping onto my soapbox of feeling like the tree in The Giving Tree, I realized that our arguments weren’t all about her needs. I realized how deep my own emotions were—not because we wouldn’t see her as often as we do now, but because it was the next big step in her separation as an adult. Of course, I am not unique when it comes to the complicated emotions of becoming an empty-nester. Every parent goes through this at some point. The critical lesson for me was that while I needed to tend to her, I secretly wanted someone to tend to my emotions also.
Parents need care and support, too. But I don’t believe that children are programmed that way. How could they be when they start the world as what I fondly call “libidos with legs,” making constant demands on their parents for their most primal needs and wants. And through it all, the parents are the strong, solid suppliers. We feed. We bathe. We clothe. We sing. We swing. We throw balls. Later in life, we drive, coach, pay for a litany of lessons and clubs—and all this culminates with our little birds flying off to their new homes, jobs and families. When that happens, we have succeeded as parents. Hopefully, we also have taught and modeled generosity and care so that our children learn to give as well as take.
It is easy for the younger generation to view their oldsters as not needing care and support. After all, their parents are strong, stoic and always there—just like the tree was for the little boy. Most parents work very hard to hide their personal challenges from their children because we don’t want to frighten them or we assume that they won’t understand. While well-intended, does this show of strength unintentionally create a false sense that the parent is always “fine”?
Somewhere between parents presenting themselves as super-heroes and children pushing for independence, a gap is created. It’s not until parents are elderly and frailty sets in that children become aware of parental needs.
Back to my interactions with my daughter last week. After seeing my own emotional role in our interactions, I told her how much I had missed out on in my relationship with my own father in my 20s and 30s because I was so focused on being fiercely independent. I defended myself against his input, fearful that his suggestions were actually critiques. He may have been giving support, but I was hearing criticism. And both of us were missing out on a balanced mature relationship.
When it comes to parent-child relationships, we are missing out if parents hide their real selves from their children…and if children are so busy taking and pushing for independence that they miss the amazing resource they have right under their noses.
The Bottom Line: It is not about simply being a giver and a taker. It’s about the relationship formed between the tree and the boy…between parents and children. We are all givers and takers at different points in our lives. The question is where you want to be on that spectrum. We all have the ability to be generous, loving giving trees. And we all have the capacity to be little boys.
The best option is to be both.
