Friday, July 22, 2011

I am From...

I am from hand washing dishes, scrubbing bubbles and pine sol.

I am from Camden Ave. From the detached garage and the alley in back and from riding big wheels down the front steps.

I am from my green blanket and rainbow wallpaper.

I am from the marigolds, that scent still on my hands.

I am from the steadfast and humble, Chapman and Swenson and Puetz and Gordon.

I am from the raised voices and the grace. From eat your vegetables and clean your room.

I am from the pop up camper, nights by the fire, grasshoppers in a coffee can teetered then tottered.

I am from the public and private with green and gold plaid.

I am from the schools, Hayes, Jenny Lind, Olson, OLV and BCHS.

I am from Catholic and Methodist. From begging to go to church then skipping church for the golden arches.

I am from the city and the suburbs and from the English, German and Swedes.

I am from unpasteurized and powdered milk; from homemade donuts and cabbage hot dish.

From the sandbox ice cream parlor and summers with cousins in corn crib playhouses, weeks at the lakes Washburn and Coffin. From the men who farmed and built homes and machines all their days long and the women who made homes and nurtured.

I am from musty basements where yellowed pages of the story hide.

I am from He who was and is and has counted all my hairs.

I am using this template for a poem by George Ella Lyon
that I saw on Stephanie's blog.


  1. Absolutely stunning. "I am from musty basements where yellowed pages of the story hide." Love.