Friday, June 24, 2011

Where I'm From....

I am from JIF peanut butter, sun brewed iced tea, shake & bake chicken.

I am from the I am from the brown house that we painted green my sophomore year in College just across the road from what used to be the old Townsend Store.

I am from riding bikes on dirt roads and quicksand in the creek. I am from the the yard with no trees. And a place where the ditches are lined with lilies in the summer and the wind whistles and bends the old pines in the winter.

I am from ballet lessons that quickly gave way to soccer. I am from Scuteri's pizza on Friday night, Saturday morning cartoons, Yankee baseball and BIG {extended} family dinners.

I am from the fire and ice that is the Boyce temper and the soothing wisdom and the gentleness of a Bilinski. I am from the place where Marian Louise still lives in the house Patricia Ann grew up in. Proudly, I now live in the house Fredrick occupied as a child.

I am from a 45 mile an hour speed zone, no Chinese food delivery and where stop signs only exist where the the side roads intersect the main road and the trip to the nearest store that sells cloths is at least 25 minutes long.

I am from mind your mind your manners, get your hair out of your eyes, always wear clean underwear and make sure you have a have a quarter for the payphone.

I am from going to Saturday night Mass, but only as a child. And, not with my parents, but with my Aunt. Pretty stained glass, polished hard wood, the bitter taste of the seal on the tithing envelope dropped into the long handled Wicker collection baskets - only to say my vows in another church, further down the street just like my parents.

I am from where Home has been and always will be, on the hill, above the village, on the west side of the deepest Finger Lake. Just down past the race track. Where the old church is now a house, the Grange Hall that used to host an annual Halloween party still stands and where we used to fly kites on the ball field out back. You know, where the smell of late summer dew reminds me of 4-H camp.

I am from the the intoxicating smell of my Daddy's homemade sugar cookies, macaroni & cheese, and meatballs. And, where some much of what we do is a constant reminder of "It's tradition".

I am from haphazardly kept photos. A few albums, pages sticky with age, faded and yellowing hold memories thought of to be the most precious. Dad in his plaid pants. Mom with her hair piled on top of her head studded with flowers. Bell bottoms and wooden platform sandals. The 4 weeks I spend in Japan at 13. Shoe boxes stuffed with 4 x 6 memories dotted with the Eifle tower, Chaging of the Guard, sunflower fields in Minnesota and sights found on the New England coastlines. The eery and haunting photos of a NYC skyline that no longer exists. Dance recitals, birthdays, the birth of my little sister, school dances, high school crushes, sporting events, and graduations.

I am from a place where I spent the first 21 years of my life trying to find a way out. Thinking the grass was greener elsewhere. Only 6 short years later learning that what I really want was to be home. And, that, that is where I am from. Home.

{I have read some fantastic posts today based off of this. Please take the time to read Steph, Sarah, Jennifer, and Connie. Each of my their posts made my heart smile. And, yes, I realize that I don't often deviate from just sharing just Madaline and her Mayhem. But, what a fantastic post this was to much to say that I'm sure I said more than the meme called for}


Jennifer Doyle said...

It is so fun to take a peek into the past. I'm so glad you played along!

Connie Weiss said...

You did an amazing job! I feel like I know you so much better and I thought I knew you pretty well.

Adventures In Babywearing said...

I love the words you chose!


bethismyname said...

Awesome post!

I referenced yours in my post today, when I did the same.