Where I'm From

“Where I’m From”

I am from endless sky, long hot summers, Rainbow bread and rabbit-eared television. From Nehi orange and cinnamon rolls hot from the oven.


I am from a cracker box house, gray-shingled, single bathroom, and three sisters giggling as the breeze riffles the bedroom curtains. From prairie grass bent in the wind, horny toads, and rainbows after a hailstorm.


I am from hopscotch on sidewalks, skate keys, and limbo under the broom handle. From lilac bushes, fingers black from cherry picking, baby chicks and playing nursemaid to orphaned bunnies.


I am from the land of pump jacks nodding against a purple and scarlet sunset, the noonday whistle, daddy leaving for the graveyard shift.


I am from Mike and Pat, supper at six o’clock, Avon calling, and pennies saved for a spinet. From German prayers at Thanksgiving, Grandpa’s whiskey jug, and Granny’s rice pudding.


I am from second pew on the right, Easter bonnets, Just As I Am, and baptismal waters.


I am from No Man’s Land, long stretches of time in the state of the Alamo, from Boomer Sooner and a college parchment stamped with RN.


I am from keep your nose clean and to the grindstone, laughter around the oak dining table, the snap of playing cards shuffled, and a family of storytellers. From elbow grease and belief in the American dream. I am blessed and rich in family and love and grace.


What I am not is a poet, but when I saw this writing prompt on one of the loops I frequent, I was mesmerized by the music in the simple words of this poet form and knew I had to write my own “Where I’m From”. Even more, it made me realize how wonderfully crafted and uniquely made we are and how our experiences have shaped us. We all have rich stories springing from the basic elements of our pasts—the concrete facts, the hurts, the victories, the sensory details that give texture to our lives and wings to our words.

I’m reminded all over again of the tremendous responsibility it is to string together words that edify and heal and bring laughter to the lips of readers. What a glorious privilege!

You can craft your own “Where I’m From” using the template of George Ella Lyon here.

CAFE SPECIAL OF THE WEEK - Ice Cold Watermelon

July already. I don’t know about you, but summer in the South means it’s too hot to even think about firing up the cook top or turning on the oven. We’d much rather be fanning ourselves on the patio or packing up for a family picnic. And no righteous picnic in the South is complete without a sweet wedge of ice-cold watermelon. So, today at the Café, we’re taking a break from our usual recipe and keeping it simple. Have a seat and pass the watermelon. The salt shaker’s right there in the middle of the table.

While you're enjoying your watermelon, I have another treat in store for you. In honor of the mother-fruit of the South, I’ve invited Patricia Neely Dorsey, a poet from the great state of Mississippi to share a bit of verse from her book, Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia – A Life in Poems.

SOUTHERN LIFE
If you want a glimpse of Southern life,
Come close and walk with me;
I'll tell you all the simple things,
That you are sure to see.
You'll see mockingbirds and bumblebees,
Magnolia blossoms and dogwood trees,
Caterpillars on the step,
Wooden porches cleanly swept;
Watermelons on the vine,
Strong majestic Georgia pines;
Rocking chairs and front yard swings,
Junebugs flying on a string;
Turnip greens and hot cornbread,
Coleslaw and barbecue;
Fried okra, fried corn, fried green tomatoes,
Fried pies and pickles too.
There's ice cold tea that's syrupy sweet,
And cool, green grass beneath your feet;
Catfish nipping in the lake,
And fresh young boys on the make.
You'll see all these things
And much, much more,
In a way of life that I adore.

Copyright 2008 Patricia Neely-Dorsey
from Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia-A Life In Poems

Aren't there some yummy images in there? Patricia Neely Dorsey's book of poetry is "a true celebration of the south and things southern." Patricia tells us, "There are so many negative connotations associated with Mississippi and the south in general. In my book, using childhood memories, personal thoughts and dreams, I attempt to give a positive glimpse into the southern way of life. In my book I try to show that there is much is more to Mississippi and the south than all of the negatives usually portrayed. I invite readers to Meet Mississippi (and the south) Through Poetry, Prose and The Written Word."

You can learn more about Patricia here or order a copy of her lovely poetry here.

Thank you so much, Patricia, for sharing with my readers.
Now, for all of you at the café, a couple of questions:
How do you eat your watermelon? Free-styling with the melon in both hands and juice dripping down your chin? Or on a plate with a fork? Salt or no salt?
Personally, I don’t think there’s a wrong way to eat watermelon. Enjoy a wedge today. And stay cool.