Where I'm From

I am from dusty VHS tapes,

From a sweet addiction to Diet Coke and cooking shows.

I am from that tan brick house right outside of town,

Tied together with a beautifully vast green yard.

It sounded like a football stadium one day and a bird sanctuary the next.

I’m from blaring polka music and the sound of Smokey the Bear’s “Yahoo”s.

From the musical legend Ernie Kucera, the master chef Brian Henry,

And famous small-town athletes.

I’m from church every Sunday,

And enormous (and sometimes exotic) family meals.

From constantly yelling “Carter, knock it off!”

And constantly hearing “Nope” in reply.

I’m from the Golden Rule,

“Treat others as you would like to be treated.”

I’m from traditional delicacies,

That invoked dumpling eating contests and fighting over the last cherry Kolace. 

From Czechoslovakia to the Bohemian Alps of Nebraska,

And all the way to Albion.

I’m from ocean blue eyes and dimples from my dad

To long blonde hair from my mom.

From not so 20/20 vision and narrow eyes.

Always sharing my opinion and consistently being the loudest in the room.

(You can take your bets where I get that from.)

I am from those packed photo albums cozied in the basement,

All picturing a loud family full of love, passion, and little rowdiness here and there.

-S. Weenie