"Getting the Knack"

In the south we often ask of new acquaintances, "Where are you from?" In my county (Iredell) I've heard it phrased, "Who are your people?" In our Writer's notebooks we will explore our own cultures, our definitions of home, our roots, our place in the world. We may record what we learn directly from children as they respond to literature along with us.

You will have a "starter" for six or seven notebook entries for the term. Please enjoy your writing. We will give up the "oughts"...what a piece ought to be. Hopefully you will "season" your notebook with poems, quotations, your own insights or simply idle thoughts.

The first starter is "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon.

Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon

Where I'm From

I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening, it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elmwhose long-gone limbs
I rememberas if they were my own.
I'm from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I'm from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I'm from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.
I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress boxspilling old pictures,
a sift of lost facesto drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments--snapped before I budded --leaf-fall from the family tree.

Where I'm From

Where I’m From
By Sarah Borders
With thanks to George Ella Lyon



I am from Palmolive Soap
From White Rain Shampoo and Old Dutch Cleanser
I am from the red clay that
Stuck to white socks and saddle shoes
I am from the dogwood tree
Outside our dining room window
Blooming for Easter.

I am from tomato sandwiches on light bread
And cold wave perms
I am from white gloves, Easter dresses and Bermuda shorts;
From Margaret O’Brien and Natalie Wood
I’m from silver punch bowls and the silver screen
My mother was from the “Haves”
But my daddy was from the “Have Nots”
“We were poor, but we didn’t know it,” the Gastons say.
I am from a red coupe with a running board and a Bel Aire Chevie
I am from O Say Can You See
And Jesus Loves the Little Children and
The Lord is My Shepherd, I shall not want.

I am from Chopin’s Polonaise and “Let’s Pretend”
From the swing in the strong oak tree;
I am from Davie Avenue School and the First Baptist Church;
From fried squash and bananas with peanut butter and Aunt Kat’s fruit punch;
From my daddy’s lap, and my grandmother’s porch glider.

Under my bed were Belk dress boxes filled with ribbons,
Wrinkled valentines, baseball game stubs,
“Five Minute Date” cards and pressed Easter corsages.

I am from gray scrapbook pages with yellowing scotch tape
And jerky home movies;
And boxes of collectibles not long ago moved from my mother’s dust-free attic
To my very own garage,
Where my very own granddaughter loves to rummage around…
Perhaps to discover
where she’s from.