The Giving Tree
In Vancouver, we stopped to look around near a one thousand year old tree in Stanley Park. Visitors could walk beneath the hollowed area at the base of the historic tree. I watched in horror as a grown man, with a woman and child in tow, took out a knife and began to carve into the underbelly of the tree. I said nothing. A few weeks later, my silence haunts me. When I was young, I had no problem calling out adults decades older for acting unfairly or inappropriately. I can think of a handful of occasions without effort. Why is it that I find myself so timid, now that they're my peers? Rather than confront the man, I walked away so I wouldn't have to witness the abuse. Complicit. Was I afraid of how he would react? Maybe. But I think maybe the root of my inaction is more despair than fear. So I somehow prevent the man from desecrating the tree... There are a hundred ancient trees lining this road that his blade coul...