The month is almost over. We are almost finished with JusJoJan. It was a fun way to blog this month. I had hoped to be a part of the prompt selection but each time I tried; I was too late. This last weekend my friend texted me to tell me Linda had opened up the comments for prompts, but I was not at home. I figured I would not be able to participate in offering a prompt for JusJoJan. Then, much to my surprise, when I came home and logged in to my computer, there in front of me was the golden ticket. I happily joined in. So today the JusJoJan is my selection, finished.
I will admit I had a motive for wanting to use the prompt finished. As mentioned previously in a post I was challenged to write my own poem inspired by “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon. She reads her poem here: http://www.georgeellalyon.com/audio/where.mp3
I had completed a couple of prewriting activities I found online. I brainstormed ideas but I wanted my poem to be completed without a lot of editing or changes. I wanted the finished product to be a real reflection of my childhood. These are the thoughts that arose.
Where I’m From
I am from a never-ending clothesline showcasing my life’s tattered garments
From pitchers of Kool-Aid and brown bags filled with popcorn
I am from bedrooms filled with fear and loneliness
I am from the bottlebrush tree dropping leaves and staining clothes which caused anger
I am from the fenced backyard that separated me from friends
I am from the scary wash drainage system behind the house that you feared might drown you
Whose racing water screamed foreboding warnings
I am from a house with stray dogs, stray cats, and strangers
From Bonnie, bio-dad, and a multitude of stepfathers
I am from don’t tell Grandma, do all your chores before going to bed
From because you’re the girl, and I said so, and because they’re boys
I am from the serenity prayer on the wall, but not understood
From playing outside until dark, and from education will save you
I am from Philip and Tessa
From formal dinners with liver and borscht
From Holocaust memories and depression survivors
I am from hospital stays, stomach pumps, and drilling gums with no Novocain
I am from outside the screen door, ding-dong bell, and prank phone calls
I am from destroyed treasured trinkets, talking birds who never spoke, and annoying brothers
I am from “Always know you are responsible for yourself,” and I was
I shared my poem with my trusted friend, and she asked how it felt to write out my thoughts. I admitted it was cathartic though challenging. My first thoughts were not happy ones. Nor were they fun to remember.
She challenged me to write it again focusing on the good things I might remember. To be honest, the second version was much more difficult. My go to childhood memories are filled with traumas. I was grateful for taking the time to remember there were joys and special moments.
Where I’m From
I am from the yellow rotary phone on the wall attached to many party lines
From warm towels and freshly laundered sheets
I am from a table where we always ate our meals together
I am from freshly mown grass that begged to be run through
I am from stacks of school library books waiting to be devoured
I am from the tall chain linked fence that protected me from the wash
That kept me away from the outside world
I am from strays once unwanted, now loved
From Mom who was always there while the rest came and went
I am from your grades are good, stop talking so much in class,
From because school is important, and do as I say, not as I did
I am from save your money and peaceful reading times alone in my room
I am from Grandma and Grandpa
From special loving holiday meals
From sharing Jewish heritage and customs
I am from teacher’s pet, best reader awards, and neighborhood safety
I am from lots of writing letters, journals, and stories
I am from saving bottles, ten cent thrifty ice creams, and donuts from the bakery truck
I am from “Always know you are responsible for yourself,” and I was
I am glad I finished the writing challenge. I like both versions of my poem. I am grateful for who I have become. Perhaps I shall finish a third version of my current life experiences.