What's good for the gander is good for the goose - the "Where I'm From" meme:
I am from iron skillets, from BisQuick , Mrs. Butterworth's and boysenberry jam sent from northern Minnesota.
I am from the forest-hidden house on one of the flaming Autumn hills of Southern Indiana.
I am from the heavy, bee-laden pear tree, the evening honeysuckle scent and whippoorwill call.
I am from bluegrass music and large noses, from Abe and Elma and my father's cousin Dell, the "black sheep" who sent the jam from Minnesota and intrigued me so as a child.
I am from those who practiced Scottish thrift, even though they were Welsh and knew the power and comfort of hymns.
From cutting my own switch and knowing my shoes would feel strange in September because I hadn't worn them all Summer.
I am from an instrumental Church of Christ born of a splinter of a split. A true Church in the Wildwood with Old-Fashioned Day in the Fall and church camp every Summer.
I'm from Somerset, Kentucky, and Columbus, Indiana, beef and noodles with shellie beans and peach cobbler.
From my Uncle Steven, who got a cramp and drowned while teaching his girlfriend to swim, my great-uncle Elden, for whom my father was named, dying when his ship was bombed at Pearl Harbor. And I am from my mother, singing "How Great Thou Art" as she hung clean damp sheets on a long clothesline in the fragrant air.
I am from photo albums, one per child, from wall collages updated as children grow or babies are born, and from buffets and sofa tables made precious by their coverage of frames of every sort filled with pictures of every sort.
I am from Family. They have taught me to be Family. So my children are from a collage above my desk and from a precious mantle and from.....