I Am From . . .

 Last weekend, when we visited Ft. Collins, our daughter-in-law, April, and I were talking about home keeping. Their #4 is due to arrive mid-January (granny happy dance inserted here) and we were commiserating with one another over the age old topic of housework. It reminded me of all the books I own about this juicy subject.  April asked if she could borrow this one and also if she could take a look at my file box that goes with it.  Reviewing my former project brought many good memories to the surface.  Thanks, April-dear!

 My sister-in-law read this book and suggested it to me almost thirty years ago now!  Yikes!  It really is a funny book!

 Here's the file box that goes with it.  The jobs are divided up into daily, every other day, weekly, bi-weekly, monthly, and every other month.

 I must say, while judging my card file, I pronounce my twenty and thirty year old self quite ambitious.

 I was happy to see that I had some sound priorities.

 I remember that I REALLY missed my parents.

 A verse that has been on my heart lately was on my heart all those years ago.  I like thinking about my wifely and motherly day-to-day doings.  I was a very happy homemaker even though I felt utterly buried by the workload.  We survived and thrived at the same time.  I think April will enjoy looking at the file box.  I must reassure her that it DID not turn out to be the answer to my flighty, attention deficit, (lazy) problems related to household efficiency, but she is MUCH more responsive to systems and VERY MUCH more organized than her mother-in-law.  

At school, we've been writing "Where I'm From" poems.  Here is the original by George Ella Lyon:

I am from clothespins, from Clorox and carbon tetrachloride.

I am from dirt under the back porch.

(Black, glistening

it tasted like beets.)

I am from the forsythia bush,

the Dutch elm

whose long gone limbs I remember

as if they were my own.

I am from fudge and eyeglasses,

  From Imogene and Alafair.

I'm from the know-it-alls

  And the pass-it-ons,

from perk up and pipe down.

I'm from He restoreth my soul

 With a cottonball lamb

And ten verses I can say myself.

I'm from Aretemus and Billie's Branch,

fried corn and strong coffee.

From the finger my grandfather lost 

 to the auger

the eye my father shut to keep his sight.

Under my bed was a dress box 

spilling old pictures,

a sift of lost faces

to drift beneath my dreams.

I am from those moments--

snapped before I budded--

leaf-fall from the family tree.

Here are the prompts to get them going with their details (from Creating Highly Motivating Classrooms For All Students)
Write down:
- items found inside whatever you called "home" when you were a child (for example, bobby pins, stacks of newspapers, coffee mugs, ash trays)
- items found in your yard if you had one (for example, hoses coiled like green snakes, dog bones, broken rakes)
- items found in your neighborhood (for example, the corner grocery store, the "home-base" tree)
- names of relatives, especially ones that link you to your past (for example, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Selma)
- sayings (for example, "If I told you once . . .")
- names of foods and dishes that recall family gatherings (for example, matzoh ball soup, black-eyed peas, tamales)
- names of places you kept your memories (for example, diaries, boxes, the family Bible)


You should try writing an I Am From poem!


Here are some of my favorite lines from the students' poems:

I am from "it's WAY past your bedtime!" (they are, after all, only eleven years old!  Cute!)
I am from fighting with my grandma over the remote.
I am from the cold metal of my tuba and the sweet melody of the piano.
I am from the noise of the washing machine and dryer.
I am from good cooks and humble and nice people.
I am from candy-colored hairbands littering the bathroom counter.
I am from the park, blanketed by bumble bees.

I have to share with you the prize-winning poem written by a quiet boy.

I am from the smoke from an ashtray.

I am from the door decorated with KEEP OUT stickers.

I am from the TV broken and laying like a rock in the garage.

I am from the tree stump, all abandoned.

I am from the rock pinned down by dirt.

I am from the "cleaning" arguments and the endless "try your best" speeches.

I am from Uncle Bubby's surprise visit.

I am from Nana's Royal Buffet of Pie.

I am from the stool that holds a photo.

I am from boxes of mementos hiding under a hurricane of pictures.

I am from a picture cracked and laying on the floor.

He won a burrito.  The look on his face was precious.


When women (and men) are keeping their houses, they are making memories, establishing unique environments, and giving children poetry contest material!  
Our daily doings are FULL of importance.
Where are you from?