This first one is actually a compilation of memories. I saw this done on someone else's page (sorry I forgot whose!) and followed the links back to the original idea. It looked so intriguing and challenging, I just had to try it. (I love writing exercises of all sorts, but especially poetry) It is actually George Ella Lyon's poem with my memories plugged in. I am a few years late in joining in the original blog, but I hope no one minds.
I am from....
I am from saws, hammers, drills; from Lava soap and mix-it-yourself epoxy. I am from a place where anything could be fixed and nothing was thrown away.
I am from big pines, a small clubhouse and a cinderblock path. I am from the corner, model home. Snail foam, doorbell in the back, it smelled like oranges. And the brick, solar house with a lava rock moat.
I am from poinsettias, clematis, green thumb, green room; forsythia and pampas grass; be careful those leaves could cut you.
I am from cold peas and mushrooms, funny accent and big nose, from Cyndy and Otmar and Virginia Anne.
I am from count the pennies, "stand up straight", "are your fingernails clean" and horoscopes and biorhythms consulted daily.
From a father on the Titantic and 'this too shall pass'. From not drinking water because of what fish do in water and from "hungry? drink more water."
I am from a Lutheran baptism so maybe he'd go to church. From candlelight services on Christmas Eve and Sunday School with friends. From God mixed with crystals and psychics and knock on wood, throw the salt over your shoulder.
I'm from Albuquerque and Denver and Garbage Grove, from Munich and Short Hills, from freshly ground coffee beans; and potatoes, hard butter and cottage cheese.
From the Dad who got a coat from Rudolf Hess, instead of the train set he wanted, the Mom who was a debutante, and later flew around the world, the grandfather who so helpfully pulled over on the side of the road before dying, and his wife, still waiting on him 37 years later
I am from a cube of pictures on the coffee table and framed pictures crowding each other out. Slides forgotten in shoeboxes forgotten in washboards. Good times boxed away, with a need to remind.
(oops. I originally put Goebbles instead of Rudolf Hess. Just talked to Mom and verified the correct person ...now it's correct)