“The Giving Tree” is a perennial bestseller, and a lasting source of debate among readers. I’m more interested in the dialogue surrounding “The Giving Tree” - and how that dialogue has evolved since the book’s publication in 1964, and when I first read it in 1994 - than in the story itself. The book’s many ripples of meaning extend outward like the rings of a tree, making for fruitful discussion and questioning - a key aspect of the Jewish tradition and, more broadly, a pedagogical tool for kindling young people’s curiosity. Yet, readers keep returning to Silverstein’s text and the evergreen themes it contains. “We read it aloud every year for Tu Bishvat,” she said, referring to the Jewish celebration of the trees. My mom, who worked for decades as an assistant preschool teacher at the local JCC where I attended pre-K, said “The Giving Tree” wasn’t her go-to choice for storytimes, because she found the end to be upsetting.

I preferred the laughs and literal monkey business of “Caps for Sale” by Esphyr Slobodkina, or the cozy companionship of Arnold Lobel’s “Frog and Toad” series.

I don’t really remember my early impressions of the story, other than a feeling of sadness, but I know it wasn’t a book that I returned to often. The tree is described as happy, without an ounce of bitterness she is giving and forgiving until the end. She offers her leaves for shade, her trunk to climb, her branches to swing from, her apples to eat (and later sell for a profit), her wood for a house, and so on until all that’s left is a stump to sit on in his old age. It’s the tale of a tree and the boy she loves and provides for throughout his lifetime.

I must have been the same age when I first read Jewish author-illustrator Shel Silverstein’s picture book “The Giving Tree” (1964) with my preschool class. My Hebrew school music teacher was leading our class in the Etz Chaim hymn, sung as the Torah is returned to the ark: “Etz chaim hi lamaḥaziqim bah, v’tomkheha m’ushar / It is a tree of life for those who hold fast to it, and all its supporters are happy.” The song was a favorite of mine, both because I enjoyed the tune and the accompanying gestures, and because my dad’s name is Chaim, meaning “life.” I felt a connection.

Spread your fingers and twist your hand a bit like leaves swaying in a breeze or a wave hello - a kind of palm tree. I was 4 or 5 years old when I learned the sign language for “tree.” Rest your elbow on your opposite hand at a right angle.

Silverstein the giving tree