I Am From...

I am in this class called SEED (Seeking Educational Equity and Diversity), and we do a lot with reflection and self-awareness. A few years ago, we were asked to write a poem called, "I am from..." talking about all the pieces of our lives that have shaped what we would consider to be our personal culture. Things change. Why didn't anyone tell me? Here's what I wrote in October '04:

I am from…

…a small town, Jiangmen China, Hibbing, India and St. Paul
bad perms, oxyclearasilnoxemaeverything and too much eye make-up
…salty not sweet, pieroghis and Chex Mix, wheat germ on ice cream
…the unconditional kindness of many, Grandma, David, Jill, Karen, my sister and brother
…the “basic track”: high school, college, marriage (oops!), grad school
…”recovering” Catholicity (not so tongue-in-cheek anymore)
…dance contests, Yellow Mountain, Split Rock Lighthouse, San Lucas, Hong Kong
…”Trouble,” “Crazy,” awkward, salty, bitchy and stubborn
…a “guy’s gal”
…crazy cake, campfires, fall and clean sheets
…MPR, Spook, Bono and my mother’s words
…mountains, water, nature, cozy cafés
…unapproval, emotional strife, bad attention, the wrong thing so many times
…perseverance, hope, drive and care

Below is what I wrote September '07:

I am from tulip wallpaper, no pop or fun snacks, and the swingset
from stitches between my toes, dance trophies and books
I am from the house at 936 East Third Avenue
with the smell of roast beef and chicken soup
I am from the peony bushes and the garden with peapods
The huge oak tree in the backyard that I never could climb, no matter what I did,
whose long gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.

I’m from unpopular board games and making fun of Mom
from David and Emmy and Grandma and Grandpa Smith
I’m from teasing and arguing
and from storytelling to do one better than the last.

I am from say thank you and treat others well
and “don’t open the box, whatever you do, don’t open the box!”
and “E-N-C-Y-C-L-O-PEDIA!”
I’m from egg fights
I’m from Shakopee and Slovenia
I am from bedspreads and flour sack dishtowels
pieroghis and pasties
From roast beef gravy on a brownie
and “I wanted to see what it tasted like!”
old dishes and doilies
in cupboards, closets, and on display
all patiently waiting for me to claim them as memories.

I'm a different person now, although not completely. My values and favorite foods remain, as do important people and special memories. I don't know that these poems prove evolution, but I know that the one from this year has an air of contentment that the first one doesn't have.

I love that I get older, and look back at all the stuff I have done, and have yet to do. It's ok with me that I don't remember the bad stuff, and I still maintain that regrets are a waste of my time (I don't have any, seriously). People tell me that if I am enjoying my 30s, I am going to LOVE my 40s. What a ride my life has been. I can't wait to see what's around the bend.