Green Eggs and Ham

It seems appropriate to share this playful Seussian-celebration in recognition of his estate’s decision to place their focus on the humanizing substance of his books, while setting aside those titles that serve less noble ends (because of imagery and words we now recognize as fostering a “less than” attitude toward others).

But I have another reason for sharing this today. A certain dear friend finds herself facing a major life challenge these days—a long and uncertain medical recovery—and she asked people to share things that might make her smile. I know her well enough to believe this meets that bill.

In this poem, borrowing the title of a favorite Dr. Seuss book, I playfully recall that Margaret and I reconnected nearly 20 years after dating in college, only to discover, with quite happy abandon, that love was waiting for us all over again …

Green Eggs and Ham

You are like green eggs and ham;
And me?  I am like Sam-I-am.
I did not ever not like you,
But long ago we seemed quite through.
Our lives and loves led different ways
For 18 years and a few days.
But then our paths again criss-crossed,
And we reclaimed what once was lost.
Now we were kids at thirty-nine;
I thought that you looked mighty fine.
Our kids would blush and roll their eyes
When through the walls they heard our sighs.
But we were love and young at heart,
And could not keep our parts apart.
True, we married rather late,
But true, as well: late sex is great!
I’d do that and you’d do this;
With gentle touch or longing kiss.
From heavy sighs to heaving hips,
From limbs to lips to fingertips,
From nippled breast to inner thigh,
From silky shaft to twinkling eye,
With tender trust and playful fun
In many ways we two were one.
Who would have thought such love could be,
As love has been for you and me?

So it is honest that I am
To say you are green eggs and ham.
For I would bed you in a boat,
And I would do you in a coat,
And I would bang you in the rain,
And in the dark, and on a train.
And I would roll you in the hay,
And in the park—both night and day.
And in a car, and in a tree,
You are so good, so good, you see!
So I would touch you in a house
At the sink beneath your blouse
Or in a field, or on the floor
Or pressed right up against the door.
Yes I would make love here and there,
Say!  I would make love ANYWHERE!
My love, you’re like green eggs and ham,
And me? I am like Sam-I-am.

drw / 01.06.2005

Public theology? Really?! Read my last much more somber post on ecological crisis. Making peace with … coming home to our earthy bodies—including the delights of being bodied (amid trusting vulnerable, joyful mutuality, and enthusiastic consent)—is one way which we learn to receive and care for the profound goodness of creation. 🙂

Not to get all “philosophical” about sex, it is, after all, simply sweet joy, but as Frederick Buechner observed, “Vocation is where your own deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.” In this sense, the deep personal/shared ecstasy of sex is one essential aspect of a sacred economy. Absolutely essential and an end in itself (an echo of grace in our own lives), but paradoxically, its “end-ness” is also a “for-ness.” It is in the circulation of the holy across the whole of our lives that we come to fulness.

* * *

David Weiss is a theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, doing “public theology” around climate crisis, sexuality, justice, diversity, and peace. Reach him at Read more at where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” Support him in writing Community Supported Theology

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