Green Eggs and the Grecian Origins of Mother's Day

“I do not like that Sam-I-am! I do not like green eggs and ham!”  I carefully read aloud from a bright orange book almost as large as I was.  Pages of colorful foxes, boxes, and ever-present green eggs and ham slowly turned as I proudly stood on our kitchen linoleum, reading my first book.  My parents beamed with pride and my older brothers could not help smiling at my enthusiasm for a book they too read to the family when they came of age.  After this rousing rendition of Dr. Seuss’ “Green Eggs and Ham,” Dad pulled some food coloring from the cabinet and fried two “real” green eggs for my breakfast.  Although I similarly “did not like green eggs and ham” at the time, now I’ll never forget my introduction to the world of literacy.

Literacy, for me, has been an adventure.  New worlds opened with every turning page as I found myself in the strangest of classrooms: learning compassion with Black Beauty on the streets of London, studying determination with Laura Ingalls on the prairies of the Midwest, discovering my faith with Aslan in the heart of Narnia, and glimpsing true glory in sacrifice in the heroes of Tolkien’s Middle-Earth.  None of these great works would have been on my reading list without the support of my family, however. Through the years of homeschooling and high school, my parents and siblings have always been there to recommend literature, encourage me in my poetical mishaps, and share spontaneous discussions of books I have recently read. I have them to thank for my fondness for books from an early age, which blossomed into a love of reading and a passion for writing in my teenage years.  I consider my family, and more specifically, my parents, to be my greatest literacy sponsors.

For example, a few years ago I wrote a short story called “The Origins of Mother’s Day” for a Greek literature prompt.  I decided to submit my story to an online magazine for publication and kept the project a secret. A month passed, and I began to worry that my story would never be published - maybe the style was not good enough, or my quirky narrative of the Greek goddesses establishing Mother’s Day was too strange to be interesting.  Finally, a few days before the holiday, my story came out. I was ecstatic! To see my own writing on an official site with a professional font and graphics was more than I had ever dared to expect for my little story.

Then came the final test: how would my parents react?  I decided to show my Mom the story in the online magazine and see what she thought.  Submitting this story was my first attempt at publication; my confidence would have been dashed by receiving a sharp word of criticism, or even by a dismissive request to “look at it later.”  Naturally, Mom was not likely to do either of these, but anything seems possible when you allow yourself to be vulnerable in asking for the opinions of others. Nearly shaking with nervous excitement, I warned her not to look at the screen on her computer until I found her Mother’s Day surprise.  Although I had been very careful to say nothing of my endeavor, Mom likely had an idea of what her surprise was; mothers usually have a mysterious knowledge of these things.

“Okay, you can look now,” I finally opened the link to the story and held my breath.  When Mom saw the title and read the author’s name, she nearly yelled! She read through my story several times, appreciated the pictures and fancy font, and laughed at the corny Greek mythology puns.  I was filled with gratitude because her reaction was even more excited than mine was: over the next few days, Mom shared the story with our friends and family and even referenced a line from it often. I’ll never forget how she finished reading the story, gave me a big hug, and said the story was the best Mother’s Day present she had ever received.

Cisneros, the author of “Only Daughter,” had a similar focus on parental support in her story: she also sought the appreciation of her family in her pursuit of literacy.  Unlike in my childhood, she suffered the censure and ridicule of her brothers and father as she discovered her love for writing. In her narrative, Cisneros lamented her father’s apathy toward her work, “Everything I have ever written has been for him, to win his approval” (102).  She only wanted to experience the same joy of sharing her writing talent, and hoped to express herself more clearly to those she loved. After many years of belittling her interest in writing, Cisneros’ father finally read through one of her manuscripts. To his daughter’s immense surprise, he was delighted by her story and praised it to their extended family.  She considered his long-awaited recognition of her skill as a writer “the most wonderful” thing that happened to her in that year (Cisneros 104).

Cisneros desperately needed this approval; constant rejection from her father and brothers limited their familial relationships, and damaged her confidence as an author.  To her, critics’ reviews meant little in comparison to the one critic she sought to please: her father. It is ironic that his lack of sponsorship became her impetus for improving her writing; with support earlier in her career perhaps Cisneros would not have had the same incentive to excel.  This absence of encouragement in her life built up to the moment of acceptance and joy that Cisneros shared with her readers. Finally she became more than just one of “seven sons,” but a daughter with her own abilities, needs, and dreams that could not simply “be erased” (Cisneros 103).

I am grateful that I do not face the same struggles with an unsupportive family that Cisneros had to overcome.  Instead of ignoring my feeble attempts to write, my parents celebrate my efforts. These two scenes from my literary history highlight their continued “sponsorship” of my reading and writing (Brandt 72); without their support I would not have had the courage to submit poetry for various contests, take an AP English class my senior year of high school, or keep plugging away at “Rose,” a short story I am composing.  While now Mom and Dad do not make green eggs and ham every time I read a new book, I know that they are always eager to read my reflections or poetry.

When I look back on these two memories, I realize that the strong interest I have in literacy could only come out of such positive experiences.  Although literacy itself is enjoyable and worthwhile, it was my parents’ constant encouragement that provided the strong foundation for my love of reading and writing.  Literacy has opened my mind and my heart to a knowledge of God, myself, and other people that I never could have attained on my own. Through reading I have been confronted by the brokenness of humanity; but I have also caught a glimpse of truth, goodness, and beauty that inspire hope in its healing and restoration.  In writing, I have flung words into space and they have returned to me, faithful messengers of the indescribable adventure that is life. 

Works Cited:

Brandt, Deborah. “Sponsors of Literacy.” Writing About Writing: A College Reader, 3rd Edition, edited by Elizabeth Wardle and Doug Downs, Bedford / St. Martin’s, 2017. pp. 72. Originally published in College Composition and Communication, vol. 49, no. 2. May 1998, pp. 165-85.

Cisneros, Sandra. “Only Daughter.” Writing About Writing: A College Reader, 3rd Edition, edited by Elizabeth Wardle and Doug Downs, Bedford / St. Martin’s, 2017. pp. 101-05.