Where I'm From

Where I'm From

by Shelia Parker Nelson

I am from cast iron skillets, from Hi-Ho crackers, JFG peanut butter and Bessie's unpasteurized, unhomogonized milk.

I am from the hill in the holler, from a tar-papered house that embraced a home.

I am from wild white dogwoods, sweet pink mimosas, orange ditch lilies, and from the fleabane and Queens Anne's lace that lined the sides of a pig-trail road.

I am from a Friday night supper of homemade hamburgers; Sanford & Son on a new color TV set.  I am from Momma 'n Daddy keeping their family together.

I am from Thanksgiving Dinner served at noon.  I am from letting the men fill their plates first.  I am from Lawrence and Alyne, Parkers and Burchards.

I am from my grandparent's front porch.  I am from "come on in and pull up a cheer."

I am from talkers and listeners.

I am from cracklin' AM radio and from scratchy vinyl records.  I am from Mac Wiseman, the Browns singing about Three Bells, Hee Haw, Lawrence Welk and Porter Waggoner.

I am from "don't touch the dog when it's a'lightnin'". I am from "yuns put your bicycles in the cellar, come on in the house and watch Billy Graham."

I am from rarely saying grace, but always giving thanks.

I am from cotton dresses worn to school under a warm coat.

I am from the southern end of Appalachia, from one whose lineage can be traced to the Mayflower, and from one whose roots disappear into the soil of the early 1800s.

I am from "ain't" and "pillers", from "yonder" and "yuns".  I am from East Tennessee twang.

I am from hik'ry switch stripes on my legs.  I am from encouragement and selfless love.  I am from parents who intended to raise me right, no matter what it took.

I am from a Momma who had a good example to follow, and did it right.  I am from a Daddy who didn't have a good example to follow, but did it right anyway.

I am from the foot of an old Appalachian mountain spur.  I am from a sunset that slides to the south of the mountaintop to let me know we're heading towards winter, and creeps north to give my spirit hope that winter will end.

I am from land given to my family as a death settlement in the last century.  I am from people who held onto this land like a bulldog.  I am from daguerreotypes and tintypes, I am from black and white, I am from color, stored in boxes and albums and held in trust by three strong, sweet women.

I am from Appalachia, beginning in New England and ending in Tennessee.

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A few months ago I was searching the internet for all things Appalachia when I discovered Tipper Pressley's blog "Blind Pig and The Acorn".  I love my Appalachian heritage and Tipper's blog has taken me back so many times to a time when the challenges of life could be overcome with common sense, humor, ingenuity, and determination. Her blog is an expression of an Appalachian life of quiet dignity, simplicity and innocent fun.

Tipper posted the "Where I'm From" poem template on her blog and asked her readers to share their own life stories. I will admit to shedding a few bittersweet tears while writing mine.  Life is both sunshine and shadow, my friends, and I hope you will use this template to write your own "Where I'm From" story.

You can find Tipper's blog at   http://www.blindpigandtheacorn.com/  I guarantee you'll enjoy it!

Thank you for reading my blog,

Shelia