I am from the backseat of endless drives down interstates to the tune of “Strawberry Fields Forever” playing on the 8-track, rest stops and picking up hitchhikers in “Clyde” – the old Chevy van we’d helped to paint camoflauged, who “ran on dinosaur blood”. I’m from camping out with my sister and brothers in the back of “Bonnie”, the winged station wagon who carried us from Mississippi to the great NW, in search of something more. I am from canned mackerel on plain bread sandwiches passed back, which tasted so good to hungry children.
I’m from knowing that we’d always be moving soon and not thinking about it much, except that I hated new schools. I am from miles of wide open road, wondering over how the moon traveled with us always, and how the dew glistened on the spiders’ webs in the sparkling morning light as I stepped outside of our wet little tent, eager to discover what adventures awaited me… reminding my Mother of Alice in Wonderland, from freezing one snowy winter night spent on the lip of the Grand Canyon, forgetting myself as I took in the awesome morning sight…
I’m from feeling aloofly at home as I sat down to breakfast in the woods of Oregon, or dinner at our big rental house in mountainous Washington, with the wooden floors and hidden closets… the house where my Mom told me about boys, and I read The Chronicles of Narnia for the first time, in a week, wishing that I could escape to another world too…
I am from inside the walls of the rose bushes, where my sister and I stuck crayon pieces on all of the thorns to protect ourselves, and pretended to “keep house”, “operate” on stuffed animals and “have school”, forbidding our brothers’ entrance, lest they join the club and do as we said.
I’m from the warm sunshine in the apricots and hiding in the apple orchards, with their rows of trees and discoveries that never ended… where we children ran wild and free while parents worked endless hours high up on ladders, picking fruit for a living, oblivious of our make believe world and innocence lost. I’m from watching the Indian lady doing her bead work, fascinated by her dark beauty.
I’m from stained fingers, picking blackberries with my Mother, for a delicious cobbler cooked in cast iron, over an open fire… from learning to enjoy the solitude and privacy of leaving all of my troubles behind… Anonymity was my warm blanket… never knowing what scenery to expect next, taking each day without expectations… but hoping to stay sometimes.
I am from sitting around the fire at dusk, listening to Dad jamming on his guitar, seeing him hopping around to the happy tune he played on his harmonica, shyly watching all of the new, yet strangely familiar faces, amused by the hackey-sack circle, dancing with the children, but secretly wishing that my eyes were painted like the older girls’.
I’m from drawing fairy tales for hours, a dragon larger than myself painted on the cabin wall, eager to hear my Dad’s accolades. I’m from hours of reading and creative restlessness, from William Lee II, a vagabond known to his friends as “Hippie Bill” and from his ever faithful bride, gentle Mary Katherine.
I am from a Mother whose family had a strong Christian faith, loved by her war veteran patriot Father, a strong, tall man who would never leave, and who stands quietly beside his wife still, after 60 yrs. -she- his childhood sweetheart. They spent a lifetime planting and harvesting together, teaching others to do the same, hoping endlessly for their daughters’ futures, and now for their grand and great-grand childrens’.
I’m from my Mother’s long, white fingers walking me down a path alone, her thoughts distant… as she sketches pictures of her children huddled under the roots of a giant tree, and recites stories of princesses in castles… hoping for her own prince’s soon return. I’m from Grandparents up late at night, ready to receive us with open arms, expectant eyes, providing new toys, Raggedy Ann with a heart, lacey dresses, t.v., fancy nightgowns, and fresh sheets, fish frys with cousins to visit, and lives to wish for.
I am from a Father whose family worked hard for everything they have, his Father marrying his Mother to make honorable his arrival and striking it rich as an engineer because that sign-up line was the shortest at college. I’m from a Father who spent his life trying to appease the guilt of not living up to felt expectations, a Father who loved much, but ran from more. I’m from his lifetime searching for truth… from his wrestling with every bit he ever found… I am from his abrupt departure from this world… and from clinging desperately to the smell and feel of him, to the hope that he knew the Truth at the end…
I’m from “can’t never could” and “Children should be seen and not heard…”, from hearing “What’d you learn today?” when I got home from school and my Dad pouring suspiciously over my textbooks, eager to right all of the monotonous “brainwashing”. From Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven and “Why don’t you skip school today?” and “You can stay up and join us if you be quiet and listen, and you might learn something too.”
I am from a Mother’s songs of faith sung over me as I tread into slumber… a woman whose voice was the one constant in my world, wrapping me in blankets of peace. I am from her stories, her dreams… filling me with hope, promises of a future planned for me by a Heavenly Father who had no beginning, and has no end, He Who has always been and sees even me… I am from trusting that He IS, and dreaming of growing up to be a wife and a mother.
I am from going to church with my Grandparents, and falling asleep on my Papaw’s arm, from Grandma sending me to VBS Southern Baptist style – she even put my hair up in ponytails with fancy ribbons. I’m from slipping into church together with my parents only a few times, before Dad gave up, proclaiming that “they all put me in a box because of how I look with my long hair”… only to realize that he put them in a box too.
I am from confusion… hearing the preacher man that came to our house to talk with my Dad… Why wouldn’t Dad listen to him? I’m from wanting to go to church, but wanting to honor my Father’s wishes that I would not… my Father who claimed to love the Lord and be a Christian, but twisted the Scriptures to justify his drinking and drugs in the same breath… when I asked. I am from discontentment, and wanting to get away, but sorry when he left… which was often.
I’m from Okies and Southern Belles, beans for dinner again and peanut shells on the floor, the big jug of red, red wine (remember that song?) with rationed *green* brownies and Grandma’s homemade ice-cream and famous comfort food; home-made biscuits and tomatoe gravy with bacon.
From the Mississippi family that grew all of their food and built their own home, from little Mary Katherine who was teased by her uncles and spent days alone in her room until her parents worried over her… who loved to pray to Jesus, and soon grew up and gave her innocent, trusting heart to William Jr. only weeks after they’d met. He’d certainly swept her off her feet, with his dreams of the future, Father’s business and private jet. After marrying they moved right into communal living in a “Jesus house”… the beginning of promises unkept… Dad rushing dutifully to serve and support everyone else, forsaking us, those to whom he owed his life… his allegiance.
I am from a wounded family whose precious memories are stored mostly in our hearts alone, from a long line of artists and dreamers held up by their pragmatic counterparts. I’m from my Dad’s telling me to “Look real hard at what you see… Now close your eyes, and take a picture, so that you can remember this, and see it later.” I am from wishing that we had more photographs to help me retrieve so many lost memories, forgotten places and moments, buried treasures and a childhood mostly forgotten. I’m from siblings scrambling over a couple shoe boxes worth of pictures triumphantly discovered at Grandma’s that document all 5 of ours childhoods, bargaining over who gets which ones…
I’m from a childhood memorialized by the trinkets left us when our Dad departed, meager portions from his hitchhiking traveling adventures… from years wasted in confusion and anger afterwards, from forgetting the songs that had been planted in my heart… from sinking down to the depths of despair -yes, my middle name is Ann(e) *lol*- for years… from which I looked up… and remembered that He IS. I’m from the prayers and efforts of others… from finding the hope of NEW LIFE in a Book… His Word… from meeting a Father who will never leave us.
I am from Redemption… ashes turned to beauty, from Restoration and all things made new… from Deliverance, freed from controlling addictions, from His putting into me what I cannot give myself, Forgiveness. I’m from His mending all of the broken places… one by one, year by year. I’m from His Promises for a hope and a future Fulfilled, from my prince, my knight in shining armor showing up at just the right time and taking me to build a castle for our own children.
I’m from running and hiding under the table at the sound of thunder, only to realize that He resides in the midst of the storm, and that His Mercy Seat is my covering. I’m from realizing that I’m now the vagabond, on a pilgrimage still ~ adventuring to another world afterall, the Celestial City of Zion.
thank you Sparrow~ I’ve been meaning to do this for some time.
me & my lil sis… so long ago~
Beth, this is beautiful!
Thank you Jenny!
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Beth – so many poignant memories stored up inside you. Thank you for opening up your heart and letting us “see” you – you have a very sweet transparency – God bless you and your family.
Very beautiful, Beth. I saw that on Sparrow’s blog and saved it for “another day”. You’ve kindled the fire now and I’m eager to get it done.
BTW, I happened across your blog while visiting Glenys’ blog this evening. She’s such a sweet internet friend, I’ve “known” her for some time now. She’s a blessing.
I’ll be back to see you again.
~Angela
Hm, looks like my trackback made it here, but my comment didn’t. Sorry about that.
I just said that it was a great first post to read – found your blog through the feed on homeschooljournal. I’m looking forward to checking back in and getting to know you better.
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Oh, you’re welcome Island Sparrow, and thank you!
Angela~
Hi, and welcome, I’m glad to *meet* you. Good, I’m glad to have further inspired you. I’ll be looking to reading yours!
Jax~
Hi, and welcome! I’m so glad that you found me, and I so enjoyed reading your own reflections. Thank you, and I look forward to your visits, and to moseying on over to your place again too.;)
blessings~
My sister uses this with her Senior English classes. She has them write their own “where I am from” poems. I will put our families version on my blog soon. Thanks for the look inside your heart. It makes me love you more.
WOW! Beth, this is absolutely beautiful. I read it and savored it again and again. You are an incredibly gifted writer. You have captured both the beauty and the sadness of your childhood in a very vivid and graceful way. Thank you for sharing this.
*GRINS* okie dokie Sister artichokie.
So I have dressed up a better BLOG that I will use to communicate with yours on here….I would have done this so much sooner, but classes made me feel drained, and I was feeling “skittish”.
I have “I am From” posted on my Blog, but as a much more abstracted poem.
It is on the Website link I am leaving here. Too long to fit as a comment (go figure)
Argh..Blogger is being slow this morning.
So here is the undressed up version of me getting the link to you.
MY BLOG (heh) IS AT THIS LINK NOW
http://musingmorninggracepoems.blogspot.com/
Hi Athena!
Yeah, that’s a great idea… you’ve got me wondering how my own (albeit little) kids would like to do this sometime? I’ll have to tuck it away for the future.;)
And oh, you’re welcome. I so enjoyed writing this. And I do hope that you’ll do the same, so’s I can see inside of you too (hmmm… that didn’t sound too good, did it?! LOL). *smiles*
(((love & hugs)))
Hi Steph!
You’re such a great writer, that I’m truly honored to have you say so. I’m so glad to hear that you were able to see the beauty too… I so didn’t want it to come across as dark or depressing, because there was so much love and beauty, even in the midst of all the heartache and brokenness. Life truly is mysterious.
It was my pleasure to share, thanks for reading it!! Now, your turn! heh!
Dearest Alicia~
Hey sis! I went to your new blog, LOVE it!! But yeah, blogger is on the major fritz, it took f-o-r-e-v-e-r for your site to load! I tried to comment but blogger kept “redirecting”, so I’ll try later. And your post is NOT too long for my comments box, GIRL!
So, b/c I’m your sis, and I therefor I CAN…and to keep them both together (since they’re two parts of the same story and all) I’m posting a copy of your “where I’m from” here too. *smiles*
***Alicia’s “where I’m from…” (which she wrote before reading mine, so as to not be influenced by mine~ since so many of our memories are shared.)
I am from orchidee coloured tassels, glass beads,
banana apples,
from Hostess Twinkies and Martha White self-rising flour.
I am from the communal harvest cabins with pastel chalk drawings on the walls
…being resourceful, remaining contagious,
and from morning tiny chimes.
I am from the red wood pine tree, magnolias, linen, the lichen, foxgloves,
from yellow dust specks in the window frame.
I am from No Birthday Presents,
stubborn defiance,
from Julia Lou, Lee Chandler and Grandma Holder.
I am from the determine-minded traveling
from controlling environments.
From “Sugar is just like a drug.”
From “Read with a Dictionary beside you.”
I am from Vacation Bible School, Speaking in tongues,
From outdoor Sermons at the break of Dawn.
I’m from Oklahoma City, Ireland, and tomato gravy with biscuits.
From the when Julia walked out on her family,
Peeked through the window at husband and her children eating in the kitchen, the when she returned she found cleared countertops.
From my Great Traveling Aunt Dorothy who patented a slide ruler.
I am from chifforobes, paper boxes, bookshelves, plastic cases, vases, stuffed animals, books, drawings, pressed flowers, and leather bound journals.
all flecks of gold floating in space
from the LORD’s super nova stars exploding into ONE WORD.
*******************************************************
Oh, I love, love, LOVE it!! Yours is so elegant and beautifully written…took me back too. Mine is so much more… *er* shall we say, wordy! *LOL* I just love the refined simplicity of yours.
I’m adding you to my blogroll (of course!) and look forward to keeping up with you more this way. ;^)
Isn’t it funny that we both mentioned the biscuits and tomatoe gravy! LOL How could we not, eh? Having you do this too sort of reminded me of how we used to play that game of agreeing upon something to draw, and then would compare and contrast our drawings of the “same” subject matter.
I love your photo montage, set to the smoky sweet voice of lovely Norah Jones… I’m going to have to do that meself!
It’s nice having you visit my *place* on the web, makes it feel more like home around here.;)
Miss, miss, miss you and I am SO proud of you!
I wish that I could be there at your graduation…;(
I’m sure you’ll be beautiful.
Kiss your littles for me, and for the rest of our crew.
Tab sure has been reminiscing of Belle lately; “I wish that I could invite Belle to ____, Belle would love ____…”
You’re in our hearts and prayers, always.
love,
your sister
Now that I have read it I must say
OHHHHHHH BETH
*sob sob* ME TOO ME TOO
it sometimes seems to be too overwhelming to begin writing these places we are from, you took me home sister, a thousand words over, you took me home.
Holding your Hand~
Alicia Suzann
Beautiful…amazing…and I’m so glad I read this…your heart shines throughout…
Hey Alicia~
I thought that you might appreciate that little trip down memory lane.
(((xoxoxoxo)))
Hi Dawn~
Oh, thank you. I prayed that it would. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.;)
Don’t forget me! I was a part of that!
Uncle Al!!
Hi there! I know, I need to email you, huh? Yes, you were a HUGE part of that story, weren’t you!?! You probably remember certain aspects of those days better than I, having had a totally different (adult) perspective.
I know that you remember us pesky girls begging you for another ride, among other things! 
I was thrilled when Mom told me that you wanted my blog’s address. It’s so nice to have you pop in here, please do make yourself at home here. It’s probably the easiest/best way for you to keep up with what’s going on with us. Thanks for leaving a comment. Michael keeps up with my blog here too, but he never comments on it.
Just this morning, as I announced to the household that my dear Uncle Al had visited my blog, Taba started asking me questions about you. And I fondly recollected to her that I’ll never forget riding on your shoulders…so high, felt like I was atop a giant, very safe and FUN!! *snicker*
No, worry not, you are never forgotten!
xoxoxoxox
((love & hugs))
You used to demand to be on my shoulders until I insisted that you ask me nicely, then you would say, “Put me on your shoulders, please.” Another thing was that I had to lift you so that you could touch the ceiling. That was a really big thrill for you and Alicia. About the time the pictures above were taken, you two did the best snake impersonations I’ve ever seen. You both would crawl without using your arms or legs and would hiss. I would then pretend that I was in mortal fear of the snakes and try to climb up the wall. It was my duty to keep you two amused.
OH! What a trip, how vividly I remember the thrill of trying to touch the ceiling, your laughter, refusals and my persistently begging you for more anyways! I don’t remember the snake impersonations though, LOL how funny! You were definitely a favorite person of mine.
~miss you, would be fun to visit again someday, let you meet my kids and all~
You were way too young to remember the snake impersonations. You would have been 3 years old at the time. I wish that I could make a trip out east, but I can’t afford the ever rising gas prices and I’m afraid to take my car out of central Oklahoma. I wish that I could get something that gets about 50 miles per gallon. The last time I saw yoo was in 1994 when you were visiting your grandparents. I seems that you took my advice and found the kind of man that you needed to find. It also looks like you live the life that your dad once wanted to do. Congratulations on both counts! Love, Uncle Al
I got around to reading why you love your husband. Things such as mechanical and structural aptitude along with chess playing, card playing, reading, and homesteading remind me of someone else I once knew. It doesn’t surprise me that you have acquired a massive library. I’ve got on too, it’s just that I never get around to reading from it. Since you like watching Jane Austen movies, have you see the latest version of “Pride & Prejudice” with Keira Knightly in it? The only other movie I’ve seen of Austen novels is “Emma” with Gwyneth Paltrow playing the lead. Your kids might like a modernization of it in the movie “Clueless”. That’s my input for now. -Uncle Al
Hi again Uncle Al~
and I have the BEST man ever! Our life together is wonderful, and yeah, I like to think that Dad would have been proud too. Some things in Chris certainly do remind me of Dad from time to time.
And yes, we’ve seen the Emma with Gwyneth (love it) and the older A&E version of that as well. The kids like these versions. They actually sat and watched MasterPiece Theatre’s “Bleak House” with me too! They love following the story line, and really get into listening to the language. N says he wishes that we still spoke with “old english”! LOL
I know what you mean about the gas! *sheesh* It’s CRAZY expensive nowadays!
And yes, I DID take your advice
You know, I have yet to watch the new P&P, but I adore the older A&E one, we own that one on DVD. I’m eager to see the new one, just haven’t made it to the video store in awhile, and they don’t have it at our library yet, so… I’m sure I’ll like it though, from what I’ve heard from Austen conisseurs.
Thanks so much for your input! Please do keep it coming. It’s so good to hear from you, always.
love & blessings,
Beth
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