Where I'm From

I thought that I would do a positive, or, at least more positive post, then last night. I'm not really ready to vent my story on here quite yet. So, hopefully this will do for tonight. I've been waiting a while to do it, and this seems like the right moment. This is from a link that a friend of mine used at one time, I'm sure many of you will recognize it.


"If you don't know where you're from, you'll have a hard time saying where you're going." Wendell Berry, among others, has voiced this idea that we need to understand our roots to know our place in the world. A poem by George Ella Lyons is called "Where I'm From." I first heard it read by Appalachian poet Rita Quillen. Six months later, we used it as a writing assignment in a class taught by my friend Elizabeth Hunter at the Campbell Folk School in North Carolina. The poem lends itself to imitation and makes a wonderful exercise of exploration in belonging.

I'd like to suggest that you give it a try. The prompts have a way of drawing out memories of the smells of attics and bottom-drawer keepsakes; the faces of long-departed kin, the sound of their voices you still hold some deep place in memory. You'll be surprised that, when you're done, you will have said things about the sources of your unique you-ness that you'd never considered before. What's more, you will have created something of yourself to share--with your children, spouse, siblings--that will be very unique, very personal and a very special gift.


Where I'm From

I am from two places. Where the water meets the coast and where the dust sleeps at night, from homemade bread and cinnamon rolls, from orange crates for table chairs and clothing with no brand name.

I am from a house on the beach with wooden floors and one on a busy street with a horse corral on the side, sandy front yards, small lawns and dusty side yards, from where the smell of the ocean would call me out on my Big Wheel for miles and the beauty of the stars at night, made up for the constant brown during the day.

I am from the starfish and the sand, the dust and the heat, sea grass and tumbleweed, the ponies and the snakes.

I am from LifeSaver books at Christmas and Slurpees after school. I am from Hansens, Martinsons, Griegos and Howells. From Grandpa Martinson and Grandma Howell, strict but fair, loving and fiercely dedicated to family, 4am doughnuts with Grandpa and then off to collect golf balls in egg cartons or a run with Grandma Howell because she was a sergeant in the Marine Corps shortly after women were allowed in and never wanted me to forget that I was every bit as good as a man and could do everything better.

I am from a family torn in ten directions, from siblings fiercely dedicated to one another and determined to create stronger future family generations. I am from nomads who travel and succeed, military men and women. I come from a family where the men are good and kind and loving. From a father who taught me how to work on engines, sew a dress, cook a meal and tell a story.

From the Indian legend of Falling Rock and the Oties who howled at night and the magical whistle that keeps you from spilling the ice trays.

I am from hard corps Lutherans from the church whose smell I remember to this day, in the middle of a flat desert field, Ascension Lutheran.

I'm from the Southern part of Mexico and the distant lands of Ireland. From the Gas Lamp District, surfer's paradise and Scripp's. From the capitol of California, desert racing and the county fair.

I am from Mexican soup after soccer games and 5lb. lasagna.

From a fiercely Irish grandmother straight from the homeland and a grandfather who loved me despite the fact that she didnt. From a grandfather who was a teacher and never allowed me to doubt myself or my worth. From a grandmother who sparked my sense of curiosity and adventure.

I am from pictures on hallways walls, worn out black and white pictures, old girl scout bracelets made when grandparents were children, the smell of the ocean, the feel of the water on my feet and face, from stained glass and avacado trees that enrobed the back yard of my aunt and uncles house in San Diego like a hundred foot umbrella. From taffy pulling in the kitchen with my cousins to building forts in the desert.

I am from horseback riding and sheep showing, from surfing and boating, four wheeling in the desert, hours on the blacktop marching, snow skiing and fishing, camping and homemade ice cream.

I am from chaos and peace, strength and weakness and all things up and down. I am from a place that isnt perfect or always beautiful, but created the person I am today, so that I can create beauty and love for my children.