Where I am From

Saw this on my friend's blog (For Good, For Awesome) and loved it. Took me a couple of a days to sit down and actually do it, but I'll post the directions below and then my poem. If you do it, please post in on my wall so I can read, too!

Where Are You From?
"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 Lyon 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.

I'll give you the template here. You can search on "where I’m from" and find many others who have taken the time to do this valuable exercise. More often than not, one person having completed it, will encourage all their brothers and sisters to complete the poem template for their parents and each other.

Glad you stopped by. Since posting this in 2005, I've written two books I'd like you to know about: Slow Road Home ~ a blue ridge book of days; and What We Hold In Our Hands: a Slow Road Reader. Both are described at slowroadhome.com and can be ordered here.

The WHERE I'M FROM Template

I am from _______ (specific ordinary item), from _______ (product name) and _______.

I am from the _______ (home description... adjective, adjective, sensory detail).

I am from the _______ (plant, flower, natural item), the _______ (plant, flower, natural detail)

I am from _______ (family tradition) and _______ (family trait), from _______ (name of family member) and _______ (another family name) and _______ (family name).

I am from the _______ (description of family tendency) and _______ (another one).

From _______ (something you were told as a child) and _______ (another).

I am from (representation of religion, or lack of it). Further description.

I'm from _______ (place of birth and family ancestry), _______ (two food items representing your family).

From the _______ (specific family story about a specific person and detail), the _______ (another detail, and the _______ (another detail about another family member).

I am from _______ (location of family pictures, mementos, archives and several more lines indicating their worth).


Where I'm From

I am from hand me down bicycles, toys and clothes, from Gospel Bill and a sandbox that was a beach, a desert and a kitchen.

I am from the house on North Parker with the rolling green hills, magnificent oak trees, prickly gumballs, surrounded by a forest filled with forts and an evil dictator, a crunchy gravel driveway and hot summer days.

I am from the land filled with dogwoods and cat tails.

I am from family nights and laughter, competition, from the Smiths and the Glazebrooks, now a Mueller and proud of a first name passed down to me.

I am from the loud and loving.

From no matter what you do, I will always love you and no matter what you decide, all I care about is that you love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind.

I am from Abba. Wonderful, Merciful Savior, Precious Redeemer and Friend.

I'm from Greenville and Lawrenceville and California all at once, from bean burritos and chicken and dumplings.

From the time Mara pushed me off the tiny trampoline because she wanted to and I sat on the ground and cried while a picture was taken in case I ever forgot about it, wearing a leotard of course, with a mushroom cut of course, and the world of dressing up, or rather, fighting over who got to wear the blue dress...the green one itched.

I am from in my warm living room, hanging on my walls, living down the street from them, from a place where family surrounds me, where I can't forget about those who I love and how they love me, a place that reminds me of how I grew up, loved first by my Father and always by my family.