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.
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