If you want to know why this message is at the top of every post, read this post.
Jackie posted a challenge to create a post based on the "I am from" poem by George Ella Lyons. I had so much fun playing with this format. Here is my version:
I am from wood, cut fresh to build a house,
from Heinz ketchup,
catfish caught by cheating (with fish food and a dip net),
hushpuppies, French fries and fresh picked strawberries.
I am from green hills and muddy rivers, sticky hot and icy cool.
I am from the cotton fields of
and the dirty, funky streets of
I am from
stopped only by the Pacific.
I am from one-hand-short-gin-rummy-after-fishing
(so everyone could take a bath),
and practical jokes and lots of giggles.
I am from Smith and Spence; McElhaney and Meyer,
and Choctaw, Chickasee, Cherokee and Tangipahoa.
I am from the lines of
Edna Jane and Kirby General; Gideon and Anna Pearl.
I am from passion and laughter and carpenters.
From the Easter bunny who left hundreds of eggs
by the campfire in French Settlement.
From Santa Claus who hid my magic kit
in the wood box the year I found out his secret.
I am from “a can’t never could” and the belief
I can do anything if I have love in my heart.
I am from church on Sunday; Wednesday too…
until I got old enough to question
all the hypocrisy I saw there
and refused to return.
I am from Baptist and Methodist and Judaism,
but it is my Indian blood and the miracles I’ve seen
that taught me God is real and everywhere.
I am from
the place of birth but not my home.
I am a love child, my arrival hidden
from the world and revealed in lies.
I am a foster child from
until my parents could write
their my story.
I am descended from those kids that
ran off every teacher
I am the daughter of a glider pilot war hero,
and the strongest woman in the world.
I am from photos in the back of my head,
vivid color snapshots taken by my mind’s eye.
Memories and stories from here and yon,
ripe with characters bursting to be heard.