Where I’m
From
By Joy
Dickerson
I am from an old quilt
stitched by a grandmother
From pin-curls in front of Lawrence Welk
And now from Spiker Hair gel
I am from an older home
Repair-needing, well porched
Well-settled on its foundation, in its yard, in its town
I’m from pink petunias
From maple trees, seeds helicoptering down
I’m from singing and
planning
From Grandma Dickerson and Homer Burton
And close-knit sisters
I’m from fear and anger
“If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at
all” and
“My little Dickie birds”
I’m from preposterous
doctrine and an antique god with rapid mood swings
I’m from Appalachians who
refugeed to Springfield, Ohio,
Apple pie, string beans
I’m from the time Mom told
Dad she wouldn’t go any further without a ring on her finger
From driving the lawn mower up over a big rock (a capital
offense)
From family photos scattered now across miles,
households, hearts
I’m from the music that
spanned the lives of my grandparents, my parents, myself
You Are My Sunshine, Your Cheatin’ Heart
Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose
I Am the Egg Man, I Am the Egg Man, goo-goo-ga-joob
Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone
Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive
Beautiful Ohio, in Dreams again I’ll see
Visions of what used to be.
The second poem, "I'm from Grandpa," was produced from a writing conference and was an exercise in character development. I selected my grandfather Homer Burton as the character and then, as instructed, brainstormed a myriad of details from my memories. When organized, they became a poem.
I’m From… Grandpa
By Joy E. Dickerson, April, 1999
For
Homer Wesley Burton, 1901-1976
I’m from…
Jelly
glasses painted with pansies
Corn on the
cob
Hot dogs on
white bread
Mashed
potatoes in a big brown crock
I’m from…
Soap rough
with pumice
Sink
stained with rust
Potato
peels in enamel pan tossed out to the chickens
I’m from…
Cookie jar
on kitchen table, reliably full
Dahlias in
tin cans
Christmas
candy in crystal dishes
Big Chief
tablet and a pencil of my own
I’m from…
Gnarled
trees humming with cicadas
Buckeyes
snarling the lawnmower
Kittens
born on smokehouse steps
Black angus
cow in bathroom window chewing cud while I peed
I’m from…
You Are My
Sunshine, Down in the Valley
Your Cheatin’
Heart
Harmonicas, harmonies, and hymns
I’m from…
McGuffey
Readers and the King James Bible
Murmured
prayers at dawn
Amazing Grace
Just As I
Am
I’m from…
One Sunday suit
Finding comfort in the words of
Jesus
A better home a-waiting
And a
mansion with many rooms—even one for Grandpa
I’m from…
Castrating calves, baling hay
Decapitating
hens with an ax
Manure-stained
overalls, sweat-soaked shirts
Sun-reddened
forearms and neck, lily-white legs
Farm work that wouldn’t wait for
guests
I’m from…
Old rail
fences
Old red
barn
Stairs
and chutes ending nowhere
Sliding
doors, screen doors
Half
doors, trap doors
Gates, latches,
hatches
I’m from…
Farming
someone else’s land
Tending
someone else’s stock
Work horses
broad as elephants
Racehorses
slim as reeds
Black Angus
and white Charolais
Calves
of charcoal gray
I’m from…
Coalton
Cemetery where Anise is buried
His name
carved next to hers all his life
All
my mom’s life
Dahlias in
a tin can on the grave
I’m from…
Descending whine of semis out on
old route 35
The highway
breaking up the farm
Barns and
stables abandoned
As old age
came to them—and him
I’m from…
Tunes,
tasks, outbuildings, barns, abandonings
Ghosts,
shadows, songs, silences
Grandpa’s
grief, Grandpa’s blood
Grandpa’s farm, Grandpa’s love
I’m from…
A lot
uncried and a lot unsaid
Lost
love—and love not being enough
That’s what
I’m from
Amen,
Grandpa, amen.
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