Brilliance sometimes surfaces in physical forms. The power of imagination in some people is so vast and vital, it’s a living, breathing dragon. They’re not only able to weave a world around themselves but they also have the magic to breathe it out like a fire that never dies for the rest of us mere mortals. Theodor Seuss Geisel was one such mythical metaphor, and he actually existed.
Geisel died in 1991, but his birthday, March 2, is a day of celebration for every mind that was inspired by his work. So what do you know about the guy who taught your little minds how to fly?
Well for one, Seuss was a master of rhyming, duh. But take a moment to appreciate exactly how incredibly amazing it is that he rhymed in a way that produced a unique cadence in his work. So unique, in fact, that if read to fetuses while they’re in their mama’s belly, they actually remember “The Cat in the Hat” when they’re out in the real world and not a space monkey anymore.
Also, his name is actually pronounced fancier. “Zoice” to be exact and not “Soose;” so next time you’re trying out a line on that girl at the party, I’ll suggest opening with that if you never want to see her again.
He created the pseudonym “Dr. Seuss” because the guy was actually saving his real one for his debut at the Great American Novel, supposedly. But that’s just a load of bull in my opinion. He was made for creating utter nonsense and beautifully weird characters; a true story over a hilariously good story would’ve just landed him on the path toward F. Scott Fitzgerald’s drinking or Mark Twain’s depression.
Like all the amazing artistic minds to ever walk this planet, Seuss did not find writing success easily. It’s like a paradigm now and an absolute tribute to mankind’s stupidity that these poor, tortured artists always either have to blow their brains out, cut off their ears or put their heads in an oven to find that oh so elusive success.
Thankfully, Seuss did not have to resort to such morbidly entertaining means to finally find himself some fame. After having his first children’s book, “And to Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street,” rejected by 27 publishers—who hires these idiots?—he finally got it published when he was 33. It is worth mentioning he almost burned the manuscript.
The guy was also not a doctor—so many secrets, does your life not make sense anymore? Good, neither does mine. Although he thought about doing a Ph.D in English for like two minutes, he ditched that plan and went to Oxford University instead after studying at Dartmouth College. Yeah, the guy was a real underachiever, I mean come on, Oxford? Pfft. He has my heartfelt, weep with joy respect, however, for filling his notebooks at Oxford with nothing but doodling. How much more amazing can this guy get, you ask? Well, a lot more.
The story of how he met his wife is worth mentioning because of its absurdity alone. His classmate Helen Palmer (later Palmer Geisel) looked over his notebook one day and scoffed at why he wanted to be a professor. She instead told him he should draw instead because his flying cow was mighty fine and so obviously they had to get married. Lesson? Find someone who appreciates your flying cow.
Seuss is also one of the few people to earn a Ph.D by dropping out of graduate school. Before you internally combust at that awesome idea and how you can do it, remember children: He was Seuss and you are not, so don’t even go there. Dartmouth gave him his first honorary doctorate after he dropped out to pursue cartooning.
Although he claimed to write about children because he felt he had a great understanding of them, the truth may be more related to the fact he wrote his first children’s book in the same year the flying cow Helen learned she could not have children.
So what did the guy do? He created and greatly embellished on his imaginary children. When asked why a childless person could write so well for children, his signature response was always, “You make ‘em. I’ll amuse ‘em.”
So, a very Happy Birthday Week to one of the greatest minds in literature. Thank you for teaching us that, “A person’s a person, no matter how small;” “Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope;” “Why fit in when you were born to stand out?” and “Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them.”
Have any kind words about the good doctor? Send them to Maham at mhasan4@wisc.edu
