I am from books, Barbie dolls, and obscurity.

I am from rocks and driftwood, and exploring suburban woods as if I were there first; from raised ranches and colonials.

I am from cinnamon-toast-and-hot-cocoa-for-Sunday-supper-while-watching-The-Wonderful-World-Of-Disney and I am from resistance.

I am from square dances and playing 20 Questions on long car trips, from The Great Turkey Hunt and Boys?! It looks like the Old Pup has been here!

In my blood I am from Coxe and Griffin, from Bornschein and Valentine. I am from divorce and remarriage more than a few times, from steps and halves, and so I am from Lindsay and Elder and several others as well.

I am from humble and proud, from self-loathing and bravado. I am from conflict and confrontation and contradiction.

I am from solitude and addiction and anxiety; I am from do as I say not as I do and what you see on the outside is not what’s happening on the inside.

I am from life is hard and everything works out the way it is supposed to. I am from don’t rock the boat and do something constructive.

I am from white-anglo-saxon-protestant faded to nothing and now bounding with spirit.

I am a Yankee Doodle Dandy from the gentle western hills of the fifth state, the Constitution State of Connecticut, and more distantly from England, Scotland, Germany, Wales, France.

I am from meatloaf, tuna noodle casserole, and Jell-O parfaits; from formal six-course gourmet extravaganzas, with pomp and circumstance and forks, knives and spoons in the proper order because Someday you might have dinner at the White House and you’ll need to know your manners!

But more than any of these things, I am most powerfully from me.

This post was inspired by a writing template you can find here Where Are You From?

(Stand by for a post entitled Where Are You Going?)