What do salt breezes, palm trees, sand outside the door, and the Santa Ana winds have to do with turn-of-the-20th-century Brooklyn? Not much—only my introduction to Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, a defining moment in my life.
(This is a revised post from 2014 and contains affiliate links from which I may receive a small commission at no extra expense for you.)
I’ve never resonated with a character as much as I did with Francie Nolan. She was a bookworm—like me. She romanticized life—like me. But she also, yes like me, was pragmatic. I realize that pragmatic and romantic don’t usually mix well, but that’s the beauty of humanity. We don’t always make sense.
Somewhere in my twelfth year, Mom showed up in my room with a book. She just handed it to me and said, “It was my favorite book when I was a kid.” Mom knew how to make you want to read something by stating something about it, making it available, and dropping the subject.
As a kid, I devoured books in the space of just a couple of hours.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn was no different. I don’t think it took more than three or four hours to get through it, but I did something different with that one. I immediately read it again and with an eye to one particular scene.
When I say a “defining moment”, I’m not joking. I probably rushed past less compelling places, but I distinctly remember slowing as I read about Francie and her father walking to the school she’d decided would make her life perfect.
Then the scene appeared—the scene that changed my life.
I’ve read it countless times since. Francie and a packed classroom of other poor, hungry children watch as the teacher holds up a tiny pumpkin pie—I always imagined it the size of a Banquet Pot Pie—and offers it to the class. No one was willing to admit they wanted it. Those tenement kids had pride, I tell ya.
Just as the teacher started to drop it into the trashcan, Francie jerked her hand up, asking for it. The other kids snickered, feeling superior in their ability not to take a handout, but Francie’s solution was to explain that she wanted it for someone else.
And she promptly devoured it on the way home.
Monday morning, the teacher asked about how the people liked it. And Francie concocted a story about twin girls who had been on the verge of death by starvation until they had that little pie. The teacher listened and pulled a “Mom” on Francie. She simply said, “That’s an awfully little pie to save two lives.”
Of course, Francie confessed it all. The poor girl was convinced she’d get a sound spanking—or worse, a letter home. But that teacher said something that still whispers in my heart when I’m writing. She said,
“Francie, a lot of people would think these stories that you’re making up all the time were terrible lies because they are not as people see the truth. In the future, when something comes up, you tell exactly how it happened, but write down for yourself the way you think it should have happened. Tell the truth and write the story.”
It’s interesting how a defining moment in my life was also one in hers.
That day, I discovered that I wanted to be a writer (not why I wanted to write… that I share HERE. No, this was THAT I wanted to write). Finally, I had a solution for what I hated about life. I hated the truth. It was never how I thought it should be. I hated lies even more. What’s a girl to do? That teacher knew.
Write.
Oops…posted on the wrong blog. Well the above post is now in the correct place and the above blog response I have NO IDEA how to move…
This one was also great to wake up to. I can totally envision this whole scene with the beer cans and then the black widow spider. Gold thing you just got a slight burn. LOL
The youngest son of my second family was given a BB gun when he was about 10 or so. Every one was so surprised that he would be given one allot with all the rules. He was a kid with a ton of energy and one to think after he did something.
He would often go out with his dad shooting. One day he saw a spider, not a black widow, but a spider on the inside of the sliding glass door. No he didn’t smack it or push it out the door. He went to get his BB gun and shot the sucker. Like you he hit it… But unlike you he shattered the whole sliding glass door. LOL. That phone call to his dad did not go over well. Needless to say the BB gun was put away for a few years and he had to work off paying back for the widow VEEERY SLOWLY through chores and other things… (Think he probably paid a small dent in the actual cost, but it made its point. When he finally got his BB gun back a few years later he always took it outside…)
I can totally envision this whole scene with you and the black widow. It is so very you in a great way. 😉
Aw, who cares which one? You commented. That makes me happy!
Alicia says:
October 13, 2014 at 5:57 am
I love this blog post. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is one of my favorite books, as well.
I love the scene with the pumpkin pie and the teacher. They always did know how to “find things out,” even in more realistic situations. LOL.
Francis is such a great character. I can see how parts of you would relate to her, especially in regard to your creativity.
Loved this. Great addition to your other blogs, but these are more about you and your experiences.
Thanks for passing this along…. A nice piece to wake up to.
I love this blog post. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is one of my favorite books, as well.
I love the scene with the pumpkin pie and the teacher. They always did know how to “find things out,” even in more realistic situations. LOL.
Francis is such a great character. I can see how parts of you would relate to her, especially in regard to your creativity.
Loved this. Great addition to your other blogs, but these are more about you and your experiences. 😉
Thanks for passing this along…. A nice piece to wake up to.
I think there must be a group of us as romantic,but pragmatic. Having a blind mother who never saw me but taught me to describe the world to her must have caused part of that. My father was never able to finish school,as he had to care for his family when his parents died,but was one of the most intelligent men I ever knew. He devoured books and gave me A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. I never knew we were poor. I loved buttered saltines. I never fit in at school, older than my years and so serious. That you for sharing. You are a blessing to us.
I love-love-love learning about new books & people. So glad we “met” this weekend, and can’t wait to hear more from you. Can tell you’re a kindred-spirit-word-girl! Gonna go find this one!
Just this morning, I thought of the scene where Francie and Papa walked to the new school. We were driving through a small town on our way home after a weekend away, and we passed a house that immediately made me think of the one Francie chose to be her fake address. I almost laughed out loud just now when I saw that you’d referenced that scene. What are the odds?
I love that book. I’ve probably read it over twenty times. You captured it beautifully.
BTW, it had never occurred to me before reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn to butter crackers, but real butter, slightly soft, plus a nice, crisp Saltine equals a delicious little treat!
That was one of our favorite snacks when I was a child! Buttered saltines. mmm…
Thank you for sharing. I’ve never read the book, but have had many very hungry children in my home, who have made up stories of how much food they always had to eat. I knew it wasn’t true, and later they would come to me and tell me so. They said it makes it easier to pretend your having a big meal, when all they really shared was a little bit of cat food. My heart and soul went out to these many children, and the short time of love I could give them, and share about how much God loved them, and He would always be beside them and protecting them. Most went home again, very few get adopted. I wish I could make sure we never had children go hungry, but I just have to trust that God will tale care of them. I get told so many times by well meaning friends, that I can’t save the world, but I haven’t quit trying. Chart on a, keep writing, Your such s inspiration to me.:-)
Thank you for sharing that.