I AM

"If you don't know where you're from, you'll have a hard time saying where you're going."

Wendell Berry

Over at Loni's place, she had a writing contest that I found out about too late, but I liked the assignment so much, that I went ahead and did it. The original template is here.

I must say that this was hard to do. Especially after reading some of the marvelous and inspiring entries to the contest. But after a bit, I approached this as an exercise for me and when I was done, I found it, in some ways, to be a tribute to my heritage. I am proud, with all it's meanings, of where I come from and who I come from. The good and the tough-to-share parts.

I Am From...
I am from a purple Schwinn bicycle, a Brownie camera, from Shake-N-Bake chicken, cinnamon toast and Kool-Aid.

I am from the suburbs of starter ranch homes, ‘ticky-tacky little boxes and they all look the same’, muggy summers and frozen winters, the mysterious smell of honeysuckle vines and cherry trees in the backyard on a hot summer’s day.

I am from the lilacs and forsythia, the blueberries by the side of the road and the blackberry bushes on the empty land behind the neighborhood, the sound of crickets in the basement.

I am from “I smell brownies” at the end of supper and crooked teeth, prematurely white hair, freckles and eccentricity, from story telling, entrepreneurship, from Anne McCooey and Agnes ‘Bridget’ Bedford and William Perkins Sr.

I am from the silence of misunderstanding and the wagging tongues of Aunts.

From my “mouth was going to get me in trouble” and “two wrongs don’t make a right”, as well as “turn the other cheek”, and “don’t let the back door hit you on the way out”, “by the gods of war”, and “Judas Priest” and threats of reform school, from the sound of a belt being snapped before feeling the sting on my bare bottom.

I am from catechism and 1st Communion. Kneel, sit, stand, sit, kneel. From Our Lady of the Angels Academy for girls. Further back, I am from Our Lady of Victory Academy.

I'm from shanty Irish farmers in upstate New York…really upstate, Michigan hot dogs, butter and sugar corn, raspberry jam, MacIntosh apples, corned beef and cabbage, and corn chowder, from Lake Champlain, Loon Lake and Fern lake.

From the woman who ran a laundry, with her husband, in the 1930’s and survived family tragedies of fire, drowning and mental illness while raising up to 9 children, the woman who survived the premature death of her husband at age 35 and raised 4 children on her own in the 1950’s, the salesman for Dupont who eloped with his bride and the man who helped build the Panama Canal and fought in the Spanish American War.

I am from the box of hair curlers sitting on my shelf that hold the last remnants of Nanan’s hair, 4 generations of black and white portraits hanging on my walls, from a silk Irish shawl now carefully preserved behind museum quality glass, a bright pink ceramic elephant and a ceramic sombrero serving dish. From pre WWII Noritake china and a scrapbooking tradition. I am from stories told time and again of daring adventures, hilarious mix-ups and crazy antics. I am from Maine lobster and a New England sensibility and frugality.

I am from that. I am all that…and more.