Where I'm From

I found an interesting "poem" template on another blog (can't remember quite where at the moment). I gave it a try and it was lots of fun to write, but I hesitated for a week or so to publish it here. Disclaimer: I am not a "real" poet, or even a "real" writer for that matter.

Where I’m From

I am from Melmac dishes and the big box of 64 Crayolas,
From the Singer Featherweight and McCalls patterns;
Blue station wagons and a yellow split-level house.
I am from Danish Modern and sliding glass doors, from
ice plant-covered slopes and apricot trees perfect for climbing.

I am from Advent calendars and summer days on the beach.
I am from sharp tongues and curly hair and a penny saved;
From Mary Ethel and Mary Angeline,
From the Tallmons and the Aldens and the Winslows.

I am from lakeside campgrounds and water skiing every summer;
From Saturday morning chores and
Too-tight school shoes at Gallencamp’s.
I am from Dad’s one-line songs;
From look-at-me-when-I’m-talking-to-you and stop-crying-or-I’ll-give-you-something-to-really-cry-about.

I am from Jesus loves me and the old rugged cross,
From Sunday School quarterlies and Salvation Army officers.
I am from starched petticoats under puffy dresses;
From Sunday evening sings and Saturday evening choir practice.

I am from the Golden State and Santa Ana winds, the Hill with ocean views,
From the best brownies in the world;
From taco casserole and homemade bread,
And apricots dried in the sun.

I am from proud pioneers and visionaries who saw possibilities,
Nurserymen; pineapple growers;
English kings and Methodist circuit riders;
From plumbers and teachers and builders
and wagon trains across the prairie.

I am from black paper scrapbooks
And slide shows at family gatherings;
From Grandma’s knitted afghans and Moremama’s colored glass displayed in the window,
I am from red felt Christmas stockings tucked safely in Mom’s cedar chest;
From use it up and wear it out, from make it do or do without.