Activity Outcome
  • Students will be able to identify the characteristics of a creation myth by creating their own.
Relevant Course Outcome
  • Students will be able to identify and analyze the textual, historical, and cultural contexts of works of literature.
  • Students will be able to read works of literature closely and thoroughly.

Instructions
10 Activity points

Write your own creation myth! Think about the elements of a good creation myth as we have talked about them in class and as you have read in your readings. Then pick "something" (person, place, thing, emotion, world, new universe, etc.) and create a myth explaining its creation. (Examples from past classes: coffee, sunglasses, love, hatred, etc.)
  • Create a Discussion Post on this page
  • Entitle your Discussion Post with the "something" you have chosen.
  • Post your creation myth.

Looking for something extra to do? Artistic types, how about making a drawing to go with your story?


Lily and Me.jpg


The Creation of a Father…..

By: Peter A. Gramazio


In the beginning, there was a child who was raised in a loving family. The child’s mother taught him many things- how to laugh and how to love. The child watched his mother intently over the years, seeing in her all the things he would one day hope to achieve. The child went to school, and learned about letters, numbers, and saw in his peers other qualities- some good and some bad -that he assimilated into his own sense of being. When the time came, the child decided his own path for his education, choosing a different high school and a new beginning for his education, away from a society that he knew in his heart was not his own.

Thus the child became a teenager.

The teenager continued being raised by his mother. The years passed, and the teenager began to worry that there was no one in the world that would love him. He watched with a sense of detachment, and with a countenance that some mistook for arrogance as the drama of high school unfolded around him, many not understanding that he could not fit in, and that it was not arrogance that hindered him, but the want of something more. Something intangible that they could not yet see for themselves amidst the contests of popularity, fame, and youthful rebellion.

And so the teenager graduated alone, never knowing what it was like to be in love.

The summer passed, and the teenager became a young man. He purchased a car, and although he still lived with his mother, the young man experienced a freedom he had previously not known could exist. The time came for college, and the young man fell behind in his studies, desperately trying to experience what he felt had been denied him in the past. His grades suffered- except for one: military studies. The young man left the college, but within him a spark had been ignited, one that would grow over the years, and bear with it a sense of belonging, of completeness.

Years later, the adult signed the paperwork to enter the military, feeling as though it was the only place he could ever belong. He then became a soldier.

Through his years in the military, the soldier saw many different countries, and experienced many different cultures. He kept in touch with his mother, though he rarely was able to return home. The friends he had formed as a child were all he carried with him; high school and college were both blurry memories. In all his travels, he never found someone that completed him, that made him feel whole.

Years later, the soldier met his wife.

What caused the soldier to marry a woman so quickly? What caused him to let down his safeguards and let her become the focus of his personal world? The soldier- and the man -never knew the answers, not completely. Life was bliss for two months, as the soldier and his wife prepared to go to Germany. Then one day, the soldier and his wife got a telephone call from the medical clinic, telling them that they were going to once again become something more.

They were going to become parents.

How can I tell you, little one, how I felt when I heard the news? I know that your mother is no longer with us, and I try every day to instill in you what my mother instilled in me. When I first held you in my arms, I knew that your father was what I was meant to be, though my own father passed from this world when I was but four years old.


I watched you grow, feeling bruise you got, crying for every sadness you experienced- even though I did not always show it. I felt your pain every time we moved, and rued the situation that kept you from knowing the family that I had been raised in.

And, although separated from you throughout the years by deployments and adversity, no deployment was ever as difficult or as rewarding as the battle I fought to keep you and your siblings in my life when you mother tried to take you from me. Through the years that followed, it cost me everything- my military career, the second marriage to your mother, even the loss of my own mother; the matriarch that held my family together.

Was it enough? Was all I had enough to enable you to grow into someone whole?

Rest easy, father, for it is not what you have given me that has made me who I am. When I was a child, you held me and sang me to sleep at night. You taught me how to laugh, and consoled me when I cried. You reminded me that I was a child, and was not to take on the burden and responsibilities of my mother.

You never disparaged my mother, and encouraged a relationship with her on behalf of all of us, despite knowing what difficulties it would bring to you. You gave us that of yourself; the gift of unselfishness and sacrifice, the gift of unconditional love.

It was more than enough for us. You taught us as you were taught, raised us as you felt we ought to be raised. You gave us values, morals, and made us feel as though we could do anything we wanted. You starved while we ate, wore rags while we were clothed. You showed us what love was, never relenting, even when we felt that you were too strict or uncaring.

I now see that there was purpose behind your instruction; never once did you stop loving us.

Close your eyes, father and rest easy. You have taught me all that you could, and what I shall teach to the little one growing inside of me. Unconditional love, sacrifice, friendship, support, and a thirst for life are all gifts that you have given me that I shall always treasure.

Yes, father, they were more than enough.

So now the daughter holds the father, and instead of the child entering the world, the adult is now leaving it. Yet the daughter does not look away, and allows herself to cry freely. As she watches the chest slowly stop its rhythmic rise and fall, she places a hand on her stomach and smiles.

Little one, she thinks, this man is who I want you to aspire to be. I know that you won’t be exact, and you might make mistakes along the way, but learn as he learned and love as he loved. Learn from your own father, but never forget that I am who I am because of mine.

Placing her lips against her father’s cooling brow, the daughter says her final goodbye. No, she thinks, not her final goodbye. She will carry the lessons that her father taught her for the remainder of her days. The immortal and hereditary gift of unconditional love.

She smiles, and pauses at the door as the lights dim and extinguish. You always were, and always have been- she muses as she begins taking her first steps knowing he will no longer be there -my father.