por Luis Carlos López
Hispanic Link News Service
This Christmas, I bought Shel Silverstein’s classic children’s book The Giving Tree. I chose it for Adriana, my little sister. I discovered the story — about a tree that responds to a little boy’s many wishes — in my college sophomore year while tutoring inner-city grammar school kids in Los Angeles.
At 11, barely half my age, Adriana is a fledgling, gifted writer. I’m a year into my career as a reporter. A year ago, my gift to Adriana was going to be a composition expressing my admiration and love for her, which I would submit to the campus newspaper. I borrowed the title, “Catcher in the Rye,” but after writing and rewriting a few hundred words, I failed to finish shaping it. I never pushed the “delete” button, either. Last month, as another Christmas approached and I watched Adriana grow in height and spirit, I decided to resurrect my project.
Pecking away at my computer’s keyboard, I sensed Adriana looking over my shoulder, which often happens when I’m at home working on assignments.
I braced for her critique to ring into my right ear.
“Ah, man, no wonder he’s a writer!” it came, flattering her big brother’s effort in an otherwise empty room. Standing behind me, she read my words aloud. They began: I see my little sister counting her change, trying to add up all her coins. Not knowing why, I ask, “How much do you need?”
“Twenty dollars,” she says.
“Why do you need $20?”
She is reluctant to tell me. I resort to big-brother wile and persuade her to reveal her secret. “I want to use the money to buy people presents,” she relents. “People” is code for “la familia,” not just parents and siblings, but everyone. Uncles, cousins and aunts, you name it.
I reach into my wallet to give her $20. She pushes my hand back and tells me she wants to find ways to raise the money herself. She loves December 25 not for the joy of seeing an assortment of presents under the tree with tags bearing her name, but because, like Silverstein’s tree, she takes an active role in giving.
My thoughts fl ash back to an incident that happened when I was 12. Mom and Dad took us three boys to Shakey’s pizza parlor, an unexpected special treat. They grinned and poked at each other and teased up a suspenseful mood. “We have something to tell you guys,” my mother finally speaks. Then she breaks the news: “We are having another baby.”
My younger brothers and Mom and Dad cheer and hug. I don’t. I dissent silently. Crap, I think to myself. I don’t want another sibling. Eight months later, my mom brought the López family addition home in a pink blanket. I ask if I can hold it. My mother proceeds, gently, to place Adriana in my arms. I fear the baby is going to cry. Adriana doesn’t. She stares at me with the most innocent eyes I had ever seen. They tell me all she wants is to love and be loved. She lets me wrap my arms around her. No protest. No tears. That day I learned how Holden Caulfi eld felt when he saw the “F–k You” sign on the bathroom stall. When I wrapped Adriana in my arms, I wanted to shield her from the crassness and violence of this world. I wanted to be her catcher in the rye. Of course I can’t.
“All the kids kept trying to grab for the gold ring, and so was old Phoebe, and I was sort of afraid she’d fall off the goddamn horse, but I didn’t say anything or do anything. The thing with kids is, if they want to grab for the gold ring, you have to let them do it…” The López family already knows Adriana’s life is something extraordinary.
But someday we will have to let her grab for the ring herself. This year, I gave her the book and my completed composition. She is mi muñeca, my doll. She distributed her batch of handmade presents and later handed a note to me: “Thanks for being a good brother. I really loved my present. I hope you know that you are also my giving tree.” Adriana wants me to teach her how to be a reporter. If she only knew what she has already taught me. Hispanic Link.
(Luis Carlos López is a graduate of Arizona State University. He is a reporter for the Hispanic Link News Service in Washington, D.C. An earlier version of this column appeared on the USA Today College blog. Reach him at lclopez4@gmail.com)
