A Lesson in Frail Gray

Once there was a tree . . . and she loved a little boy.

“So begins a story of unforgettable perception, beautifully written and illustrated by the gifted and versatile Shel Silverstein” —HarperChildrens.

Yeah. I could have written that review once.

Hardly a person I know hasn’t at least heard of “The Giving Tree,” by Shel Silverstein, and most who’ve read it, male and female, seem to like it. (Wikipedia summary)

I used to love that book. I used to give copies away.

Then I hired a crayon whose color was Frail Gray. Frail Gray was a victim. She was always suffering a catastrophe. Every dark cloud followed her. She always needed nurturing. Nothing ever seemed to be her fault.

Frail Gray had a baby boy. She loved him dearly. She was still breastfeeding him when he was four years old. He’d get sick. She’d get sick. He’d get sick some more. We’d lose about two weeks work while they were taking turns. Yet nothing would be said, because being sick was not her fault. She was just the victim.

“Oh poor Frail,” people would say. “She’s sick again. Poor thing.” No one pointed out the cause was that she’d never weaned her half-grown child. That was inappropriate. It was personal—not our business. Besides the first to say something would then become the villain. That was Frail’s secret weapon. Cross her plans of victimhood and you’d become the villain.

The more I watched this crayon work, the more I saw her get her way. She took control and did her thing and made people feel like they were helping. My favorite was “My husband’s professor’s daughter was involved in last night’s robbery. I can’t possibly come to work today. I must sit with them at their house, and I'm bringing them a rhubarb pie.”

I had no point of reference from which to analyze this statement. My sanity fought my humanity. My thought processes were muddled, and my head was in a twist. I couldn’t tell her to be unkind. The concept of reverse manipulation was amazing.

Watching Frail Gray is when my inner dialogue on "The Giving Tree" began. Is the tree truly benevolent or some kind of cloying victim? After all, the boy never does say, “Thank you,” to the tree. Did I want my son to read a book that carried this subtext? He could end up a doormat or worse, turn a shade of Frail Gray.

The answer has to lie inside the mind of the giver. Because the act of giving up yourself cannot make you a victim. Mandela proved that giving can be a noble thing. Still not all who seem to suffer have the heart of a Mandela. A friend said, "Every act of giving really goes both ways." Maybe the reverse is true as well. “Any act that goes but one way probably is taking.”

Frail Gray was not a victim, but a taker.

What Frail Gray took was my belief in ‘The Giving Tree.”

You could say I was the victim of a victim.

—me strauss Letting me be