Where I'm From

Blogging rules! My friend over at Behind the Stove (Babelbabe) posted her version of this poem and exhorted us to make our own. I found it a little hard, since my life was always on the move, not really made up of "Kodak moments." As a TCK (Third Culture Kid), I have listed many of my childhood homes (surprisingly, the list I made is not exhaustive). I am jealous of people who remember things like jello molds and brand names of foods they ate. They're jealous that I know how to say hello fluently in more than 2 languages. (English, Spanish, Polish, German)

Oh, one more thing: I've decided that this blog is mine, and therefore since I am a woman of many facets and talents, I will write about whatever pleases me. Be forewarned that a lot of library talk is coming down the pike: I had a lot of time at work today to "rough out" my notes from ALA (the American Library Association, in Chicago a few weeks ago.) I wrote and wrote and wrote. I think I will not make it one long post but a couple of shorter ones, grouped by topic. I've also decided that since I am a librarian, writing about library related items in my blog is work-related, so if I am working on a writing project for work, do not be surprised if it shows up here.

So without further ado, here's my poem:

Where I'm from: a TCK writes home

I am from phonograph records, from Post-It notes that say "I love you" and books in many languages. I am from packing boxes in the basement, and furniture from all over the world. I am from waffle hugs and pancakes that spell my name.

I am from the split level on Caddington, brick and yellow. I am from the third floor walk up in Bonn with the balcony, and the garden apartment we got after my mother got pregnant. I am from the Spanish style house in Ciudad Nueva, overlooking the resevoir. I am from the contemporary white house on Calle Guaymura, angular and modern. I am from the streets of Warsaw, buildings pock-marked with World War Two bullets. I am from Mother Embassy and Uncle Sam. I am from "get there the first year, get settled the second year, and get ready to leave the third year," my whole life until I was 27. I am from "If you don't like it now, just wait a few years for the change."

I am from the ghinko leaves in the mail from Grandma, all the way from New Jersey, marigolds every year for mother's day, even in Honduras, sycamore trees that line the Pittsburgh streets, the maracuja on our garden wall, the flowers every year on Valentine's day, the tomatoes every summer and pumpkins every fall. I am from zuccini and zuccini and zuccini.

I am from pictures and 16 millimeter movies and laughter, from Snoozer and Chirp, Tiny Van Diney and the Boonyackies.

I am from three families: one girl and two dead babies until 1982 when "the most beautiful baby in the world" made her appearance in March and crying on Christmas Eve a "bouncing baby boy" showed up in December. I am from phone calls over time zones and letters (before email) and the third era in 1998 when we were all grown up and living again in one house.

From "If you can't make a mistake you can't make anything" and my dad's shaggy dog jokes. I am "Bird," "Suds," "Fred," and Lily.

I am singing songs before Sunday School, I am walking home, away from church alone in high school, or sitting in the car in junior high to listen to Casey Casem's top 40. I am from five people going to three churches on Sunday morning and one more on Sunday night. I am from reading my grandfather's large print Guideposts in his leather green chair that we all wanted when Grandma finally died. I am from "What a Friend we have in Jesus" and "A mighty Fortress is our God." I am from skits and talent shows, helping Mom with Vacation Bible School, and Easter sunrise services overlooking the hills of Tegucigalpa.

I'm from Washington, DC, Washington, New Jersey, Paterson and Hackensack. I am from Holland and I am from Germany and England, from carrot cakes for my birthday, lemon merengue pies and broccoli, my father's two favorites. I am from salad every night and the clean plate club.

From Mom pulling clover from the lawn summer evenings, Dad frowning in the other room, the guitar lodged in my brother's hand, from Grandma making all those yarn covered hangers, from Granny buying Gunne Sax dresses on sale, from doing puzzles every summer at the lake. I am that brand new four year old who chipmunked peas in her mouth before she blew out the candles on her cake. I am from Scrabble games in three continents, Canasta, Sorry!, Solitaire, and too many games of Free Cell.

I am from albums that line the shelves in the guest room, pictures that sit on the piano, the porcelain balloon woman that now sits on my mantle, the family Bible that Grandpa accidentally put out in the trash.