Though Laura Ingalls Wilder (1867-1957) and Betty Smith (1896-1972) were near-contemporaries and writers of autobiographical fiction, the two authors were worlds apart in their experiences.
Wilder is familiar to millions of readers for her Little House books, which track the life of the Ingalls family—Ma, Pa, and their three daughters—on the Great Plains in the 1870s and 1880s. Their transportation is a horse-drawn wagon and they live for a time in a sod house. Prairie fires, swarms of grasshoppers, and a long, cold winter bring them to near-ruin.
Betty Smith’s coming-of-age novel “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” is only a quarter of a century removed from Wilder’s stories, but life is radically different. In this mirror of Smith’s early life, Johnny and Katie Nolan, their daughter Francie, and son Neeley live in the tenements of Brooklyn. They too face hardship and poverty, living hand to mouth in a different sort of wilderness, where lack of money and education are the chief impediments to a decent life.
For decades now, young readers have taken inspiration and lessons in living from Wilder and Smith—grit and courage, resilience in the face of hard times, and the power of dreams and aspirations. Hidden away in their prose, however, is one tutorial particularly apropos for parents and their children today.
Broken Families
Until our modern age, respect for parents was a bedrock in the world’s civilizations and religions. The old Hebraic commandment, “Honor your father and mother,” finds its counterpart in Hinduism and Islam. Ancient Rome revered fathers and mothers both in law and in mythology. On the other side of the globe, Confucius called filial piety “the root of all virtue,” a concept that nurtured Chinese culture for more than two millennia.
The last 200 years or so have eroded that common creed of civilization. The winds and waters that have caused that erosion run from the Industrial Revolution to totalitarian assaults on the family to today’s radical individualism.
The latest trend in family fractures involves young adult children going “no-contact” with their parents, severing all ties because of real or perceived wounds, differences in politics, and more. Therapist and writer Paula Rinehart reports that nearly 1 in 4 adult children have cut off all ties to their parents, or more rarely, vice versa. No more communication. No more get-togethers on the holidays. No more visits with the grandchildren.
And here is where Wilder and Smith have some timely advice for us.
Flaws and Forgiveness
In “The Little House on the Prairie” books and the television series, Charles “Pa” Ingalls and his wife Caroline are based on Wilder’s parents. In many respects, the real-life Pa matched his fictional counterpart. He loved his family, contributed to his community, and was a hard-working, God-fearing man. As Little House fans know, Pa provided family entertainment with his fiddle and music, and Wilder credited “whatever religion, romance and patriotism I have … to the violin and my Father playing in the twilight.”
One quality Wilder admired most in her father was his sense of adventure, yet it was this spirit, as she well knew, that also kept the family financially strapped throughout her youth. Charles was a restless man, always on the lookout for greener pastures and bigger opportunities, and those moves brought hardships. Like many other adolescents of that time and place, Wilder several times had to work to help support the family when Charles came up short.
Her relationship with her mother was equally complicated. Evidence shows that Caroline showed more affection for her daughter Mary, especially after Mary went blind, than for Laura. Wilder saw her mother for the last time in 1902, shortly before Charles Ingalls died. Caroline died in 1924, and Wilder was unable to attend the funeral.
Yet in her books, which she wrote after her mother’s death, Wilder portrayed her mother as strong, good, and loving. Her portrayal of both parents demonstrated the understanding and forgiveness that derived from having endured adversity herself, the maturity of true adulthood, and the insights into the lives and travails of her parents these experiences provided.
Experience Is the Mother of Wisdom and Pardon
Betty Smith’s novel “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” and the 1945 movie by the same name depict Johnny Nolan as a lovable but irresponsible provider for his family—a singing waiter and an alcoholic. Likewise, in the film and in the book, his wife, Katie, is the hardnosed financial mainstay of the family, earning money working odd jobs and largely unsupportive of her daughter Francie’s love of school, books, and learning.
Betty Smith’s parents were German immigrants, with no Irish connections like the fictional Francie, but with that exception the author and the character she created are strikingly similar. Journalist Tim McAllister writes that Smith’s mother was a stern woman who often quarreled with her daughter about her dreamy ambitions. Smith was “closer to her father, who adored singing songs and telling stories around the tenement stove on cold winter nights; however, he was also a raging alcoholic who drank himself to death at age 40, just a few days after Betty’s 17th birthday.” Though exceptional in her academic work, Smith, like Francie, was forced to leave school to work and help support the struggling family.
As with Laura Ingalls Wilder and her parents, when we read “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” or watch Elia Kazan’s fine movie, we see in Betty Smith’s portrayals of her mother and father the maturity and understanding that come with lived experience. As an adult and a parent, she better understood the obstacles her parents had faced. In her novel she summed up their personalities this way: “Katie had a fierce desire for survival which made her a fighter. Johnny had a hankering after immortality which made him a useless dreamer. And that was the great difference between these two who loved each other so well.” In that brief appraisal of her own parents, we find a daughter and mother made wise by her own ordeals.
The Message
If you’re a young adult who’s thinking of freezing your mom or dad, or both, out of your life, think again. And if you have no children of your own, think doubly hard before declaring your estrangement.
Listen to what Smith wrote of Katie Nolan: “‘It’s come at last,’ she thought, ‘the time when you can no longer stand between your children and heartache. When there wasn’t enough food in the house you pretended that you weren’t hungry so they could have more. In the cold of a winter’s night you got up and put your blanket on their bed so they wouldn’t be cold. … Then one sunny day, they walk out in all innocence and they walk right into the grief that you’d give your life to spare them from.’”
All parents worthy of the titles “Mother” and “Father” know and have experienced firsthand the sacrifices and hard work that raising children entails. They also quickly realize that there’s no perfect guidebook for that journey, and parenting often means flying alone in the dark. They’re bound to make mistakes, but have you taken the time to consider the things in your life they got right, or at the little hidden or long-forgotten things they did out of love for you?
Real abuse may demand estrangement. Otherwise, before cutting those threads that link you to Mom and Dad—or for that matter, to any relative or friend—walk in their shoes for a bit. Try to see things from their perspective. Consider your own failings in the relationship and put in the work necessary to repair that damage.
“Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge them,” Oscar Wilde wrote. “Rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.”
Be one of the rare ones and aim for forgiveness. You may be surprised by the gifts you’ll find there.
