Saturday Night Fun: Where I'm From

I am from a musical city, from Gibson Guitars and caroling bells.

I am from the red brick Craftsman perched on a wooded hill (with the best trick-or-treating neighborhood ever).

I am from the towering trees that assuaged the unhappiness, the rustling leaves who were my friends.

I am from a family that always gathered for Sunday dinner and from the woman who glued us together, from Kopp and Hartman and Taylor.

I am from gardeners who poured over seed catalogs as blizzards howled to hunters of morels and petosky stones in the solitude of the northern woods. 

From “a penny saved is a penny earned” and “try, try again.”

I am from those who believed in something greater than themselves, and lived the Golden Rule.

I'm from Kalamazoo and further back from Germany, Ireland, France perhaps, did I mention Germany and who knows where.

From the family rescued from the roof while the flood stole their piano, the children who gathered coal and asparagus along the train tracks to keep the family warm and fed, and the family shattered when their sister was slain on Christmas while wrapping her children's gifts.

I am from the memories secured in a big paper box, the ledgers, the album of nameless faces, the strength of women raising children alone, striving to feed them while hoping to protect them from life's uncertainties. I have inherited it all, tangible and otherwise.


This topic was suggested by Randy Seaver over at Genea-Musings.  To write your own poem start with the template found here.