Our Giving Trees
Years ago, when I first read THE GIVING TREE (Shel Silverstein) to our young daughter, I was struck by the story. Simply put, the book depicts a boy’s relationship with a tree. The boy was always wishing for more and the tree gives it’s all for the boy. Finally, there was nothing left of the tree except for the stump; upon which the young boy (now an old man) sat.
I like living amid trees. Whether it is the massive white pines and fragile white birch of northern Wisconsin or the sturdy hardwood forests of east central Minnesota, the trees convey a sense of both physical and emotional comfort for me. These trees grew where they were intended, following the rules that nature provided. But, I was just thinking about the trees that are different, maybe even more special; those that grew regardless of their circumstances.
Outside of Bayfield, Wisconsin several rock formations jut out of the cold waters of Lake Superior. On these rocks there are trees growing. Possibly seagulls rested on these rocks long enough to deposit the seeds that took root in whatever soil and nutrients were there. Whatever the origin, the seeds took root. Some have grown from saplings to mature trees. These trees are not the beautiful trees of the forest. They are simply trees that survive under the most adverse conditions.
There’s an old stone warehouse that stands in the old mining town of Montreal, Michigan. Its’ windows are broke and the old wood doors are deteriorating. On one end of the building is a rusty metal slat stair leading to a landing. At some point in time, an oak seed found its’ way to this forgotten place. It took root under the landing. There it began to grow.
Undisturbed, it kept growing, its’ limbs reaching upward. It grew through the metal slats and just kept on growing taller. However, it also was growing in diameter at the base. Today, the tree takes on a peculiar shape. The trunk of the tree rests on the soil four feet below the landing…..another base formed ontop of the landing. This tree seems to only look upward, not worried about what lies behind (or in this case, below).
Several years a good friend died unexpectedly. I was overcome with sadness for his wife, his children, and for me. The next day I was driving in the North Country, not too far from the source of my beloved Wisconsin River. There are no dams at this point in the river so the spring brings rushing water and adventurous kayaking and canoeing. However, at that time it was mid-October. By fall, the rocks are visible and plentiful. The blue, rushing water is now still, almost a black color. The water reflects the pines, balsams and spruce that line the banks. On that particular October day another tree cast its’ shadow in the river. It was a bright gold Tamarack, not as tall as its neighbors, but so much brighter that it seemed to glow. The tamarack tree blends in the forest most of the year. It’s nothing special to look at. Then, just before it drops its’ needles, it turns this brilliant gold color.
The trees I’ve written about are the survivors, strivers, and shiners. If we are blessed and observant, we know people like these trees. If we are fortunate, they cross our paths in life. There are strong people; those that survive under the worst conditions. Through their strength, we are able to keep ourproblems in perspective. There are people that continually strive. They see possibilities where others do not. They help us to move past ‘what is’ and move towards ‘what can be’. Lastly, there are the people who, even for a brief time, shine so bright in the waters of mankind that we can never forget their presence.
If we choose, we can learn from the survivors, strivers, and shiners. Through these people we find hope, energy, patience, and appreciation. Simply put, these people make us better people I was just thinking that these people must certainly be our Giving Trees.