Goddesses and Veggies

I come from a long line of strong, intelligent women—women who weren't always able to pursue advanced degrees but who hungered after knowledge and treasured the riches of the past. Among their ranks are pioneers who sacrificed everything to travel westward in their search for religious freedom, a great-grandmother whose fit of laughter jump-started her heart after a heart attack, and a grandmother who taught me, as she lay dying from cancer, that pain is a part of life but misery is optional. These women transformed knowledge into strength and good humor and wisdom. In my mind, they each embody Veritas—that towering goddess of Greek and Roman Mythology.

Growing up, I worshiped my mother—Valedictorian of her graduate class, deep thinker, powerful mover-and-shaker, and all-around goddess. I wanted to be just like her.

My mom came to Boston for the first time in September, 2009. Together, we walked the cobblestone streets of the North End, made the pilgrimage to Louisa May Alcott's grave in Concord, and ultimately stepped through Johnston's Gate (passing the word “Veritas” inscribed on the columns to either side). 

 I watched her stand in Harvard Yard and breathe in the scent of decaying leaves. I saw her pause at the base of Widener Library like a Greek Goddess come home, corinthian columns rising above her. She even snuck into one of the lecture halls. Standing at the very front, near the podium, she was swallowed by the emptiness of the room, but her presence was more than enough to fill it. With absolute gravity, she wagged her finger and told me to eat my veggies and never talk to strangers. Now she winks and brags to friends that she has “lectured” at Harvard. (Goddesses do tend to have a great sense of humor.)

Four years to the month after that experience, I entered Harvard Yard again—this time as a student. I found myself giving a non veggie-related lecture at a Harvard conference, and instead of standing at the base of Widener Library, I was suddenly ascending the staircase and beeping past security. I didn't feel much like the Greek Goddess I had seen in my mother, but I did feel a sense of responsibility to her and to all of the goddesses who came before her.

I think I was drawn to Harvard for two reasons (among others): First, I sensed a rich legacy of learning embedded in the very bricks and mortar of these buildings—buildings that have survived for hundreds of years and will probably survive for hundreds more. I felt a deep respect for the past. Secondly, I believed that tradition is meant to built upon and that metaphorical buildings are constantly being raised and leveled in the name of truth. I wanted the opportunity to contribute something to the larger body of knowledge approaching Veritas.

On my journey towards graduation, I have experienced moments of frustration, moments of illumination, and moments when I just wanted finals to end and I didn't feel anything remotely as noble as an obligation to Veritas. Luckily, Veritas is patient, and she never gave up on me. (Neither has my mom.) I entered Harvard Yard through Johnston's Gate, and on commencement day, I will be entering the world through that same gate. I hope I can learn to bear the standard of Veritas with the same strength, good humor, and wisdom demonstrated by all the goddesses who came before me.

And yes, I'll try to remember to eat my veggies.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama!