Window on Writing: Where I’m From

She issued a writing challenge based on a poem by George Ella Lyon titled Where I’m From.  

She offered a template link.

Here’s my attempt, but I think I deviated from the template.

I am from black-and-white two channels

antenna perched on post turned

to fuzzy and not-so-fuzzy

by hand in all weather

window open.

From always Ford, Appian Way, Campbell’s, and Evening in Paris,

and Avon lipstick samples in the mail.

From Soupy Sales, Ed Sullivan, Sky King,

Kenny Roberts the Jumping Cowboy,

and Tigers baseball.

I am from the little house

three rooms for five

kitchen cupboards chartreuse

and gray formica table,

hemmed by woods

and buttoned with a propane tank.

Four log cabins heated with kerosene

for company and customers

hunters and National Guard

and a single-seater outhouse

inhabited by snakes.

I am from the birch tree and the Juneberry

the blueberry bog, wild strawberries, spore-spotted fern forts,

morels, and green pads with yellow bobbers

floating.

I am from one-at-a-time tinsel on the tree,

playing cards, Paul Bunyan tales, rowboats and bluegills

and Thunder Bay pike.

I am from James the shanty boy and Edwin the dulcimer player,

from William the gardener and fresh-picked rhubarb dipped in sugar.

I am from Grandma Dummer (dew’-mer) and books of the month,

crochet hooks and limburger cheese,

with old-fashioned candies, hard and cream-filled.

I am from poets and musicians and readers and artists and builders,

and practical jokers.

From paper and pencils and pages,

manual typewriters and carbon.

I am from clean-your-plate-or-no-dessert

and do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do.

I am from the Golden Rule and the Ten Commandments

letters to Aunt Emma (Sister Lucinda)

Baptist friends

a box of scripture verses

and Sunday funnies.

I am from a pleasant peninsula, a water-winter wonderland,

the Great Lakes State.

I am from unleavened pancakes, ambrosia, broiled chicken,

and tiny morsels of liver swimming in catsup,

swallowed whole,

soft-boiled eggs and sour cream on everything.

I am from the scent of pipe tobacco and sawdust, coffee and cigarettes,

railroad ties and forest fragrances

and strains of Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.

I am from the Horizontal Queen of Horseshoe Lake

with the fishhook in her cheek,

a bartender with his name on a bullet,

and a wrestling-loving grandmother.

I am from albums black and white and wedding check stubs,

crocheted dresses and a gold-gilded pitcher,

an Alpine costume that no longer fits and a plastic-flowered crown.

I am from wood and earth and water,

feathers and fur and scales,

from greens and blues and browns

and deep white snow.

Window open.

Linking today with Glynnis Whitwer. Head over there and read her offering.

And if you choose to give this a whirl, please come back here and let me know in the comments so I can learn more about you.