Where I'm From

"If you don't know where you're from, you'll have a hard time saying where you're going." Wendell Berry

Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon

Berry and Lyon are Kentucky authors both of whom I have had the privilege of meeting, which is why I am even attempting this.

Sarah and Suldog both wrote very moving pieces. The prompts, as well as another lovely example, are here.

Here goes . . .

I am from polyester, from Purity milk and Sesame Street.

I am from the white brick house with the big backyard, musty; plaster walls that were impossible to paint, gravel driveway in a neighborhood of blacktop.

I am from the snowball bush, the dogwood tree, the grape arbor.

I am from Thanksgiving dinner and music, from Mimi and Balbie and MamaEmmy.

I am from the reticent and the performer.

From plain and smart.

I am from Methodist meets Baptist turns fundamentalist after a brief visit to Presbyterian. I am from confusion, despair, unforgiveness, self-righteousness, religiousness without spirituality. I am recovering.

I'm from Tennessee, England and France, from egg milkshakes, chicken and dumplings, pot roast, and turkey with sage dressing (always separate).

From the Revolutions (American and French), the Rebel, and the Yankee.

I am from the slide projector, the reel-to-reel audiotape, the photo album, and the piano. I am from love and tragedy, loss and redemption, prejudice and tolerance, despair and hope.