I Am From Bushy Eyebrows (slice 14)

OK, confession. I have been staring at a blank screen for a long time tonight. Finally, I decided to do some revisions on something I wrote last summer in a Digital Storytelling workshop. I was happy with parts, but other parts just didn’t satisfy, even though I worked on it a lot of hours. Since it is an “I am from” piece, maybe it will never be final, since through life our perspective on where we come from shifts, as we mature through life experience. Here is the current version:

I AM FROM BUSHY EYEBROWS

I am from bushy eyebrows, big ears, and “a good thing you didn’t get the Hayes legs”

I am from old country names- Lyman and Norcie, Pluma, Easter, Loray, and Verrena- and common ones, too- John and Martha, Frank, Ed, and Dick

I am from My Old Kentucky Home and Back Home Again in Indiana, from hills and hollers and stars above, and city lights and suburbia

I am from beans and ketchup, fried chicken and cornbread in an iron skillet, from liver breaded and deep-fried by a sneaky mother and White Castles my dad brought home by the dozens

I am from cherry pie with candles birthdays, sisters with matching dresses, white gloves and hats Easters, turkey and dressing with dumplings Thanksgivings, and too many presents to count Christmases

I am from four kids sitting on the floor with Dad in the middle, eating popcorn Mom popped in a dutch oven on top of the stove, watching The Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday nights

I am from summers that started with listening to the Indy 500 on the radio, trying to keep track and fill in the chart from the Indianapolis Star, from watermelon seed spitting picnics and swimming at Braod Ripple Park

I am from the church in the wildwood and Southern Baptists transplanted to the North, from hellfire and brimstone preaching, yet finding the love of God, from coming to Jesus and getting saved, a born-again believer

I am from Sunbeams, Sunday School, and GA’s, from memorizing verses by heart until they became my heart, from growing up to marry a preacher

I am from dirty work-worn hands and a soft, comforting hand on a feverish brow, a good old boy and a strong woman

I am from starting poor and working hard, from nothing but love…

And love has been enough.

Here are the bushy eyebrows and big ears (John and Martha):

Here are the four kids:

                                              Me (Diane) with Mom and Dad (Dick and Verrena)

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This entry was posted in faith, home and family, memories, reflections, SOLSC March 2012, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to I Am From Bushy Eyebrows (slice 14)

  1. Becky says:

    Wow, this is powerful. Maybe because we seem to have some similar history, but probably it is your succinct yet very descriptive sentences.

  2. girlgriot says:

    I love “where I’m from” poems, and yours is wonderful. We are from such different places, but I saw some of my history in your poem, too!

  3. Chandra says:

    I LOVE this. I feel like I must have come across these poems before (I was an English major, after all), but this struck me as new. Definitely planning to slice at my lunch hour now! And I love your play of language–using simple, surface things to speak volumes. Awesome.

  4. Mandy Chock says:

    “I am from” poems are one of my favorites! I actually find them somewhat challenging to write because you want them to be entertaining, yet heartfelt. Of course my favorite lines from your poem are: “I am from starting poor and working hard, from nothing but love… And love has been enough.”

    Thank you for sharing.

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