We had Dad's birthday party almost a month ago. I decorated the Fellowship Hall of their church in green oak leaves and acorns. I purchased a beautiful print of an oak, based on a watercolor painting by a young man named Antony based in Kiev. Bill and I matted and framed it; after the party was over I gave it to Dad as a gift. I also wrote a poem for him. Ages ago a meme of sorts went around social media of free-form poetry titled "Where I'm From...". Earlier in my blog I wrote where I am from; two poems, each representing one side of my family. Here is the one I wrote for Dad:
I'm from Somerset, Kentucky and Columbus, Indiana. From the big house on Chestnut, from which I couldn't leave on my own.
I'm from a mule-riding sheriff and my maternal aunt also my paternal grandma.
I'm from an uncle for whom I was named, who died from a Kamikaze pilot.
I'm from a Dad who walked to the hospital to have a brain tumor removed; and from the miracle that removed the tumor first.
I'm from bluegrass and big noses and a near-replay of a family feud.
From iron skillets, outhouses,and a home bursting at the seams from my parents' generosity.
I'm from beans and cornbread, cherry pie, and a full table.
I'm from big gardens and garter snakes - wrapped around the doorknob for Mom's "pleasure".
I'm from drowned baby ducks, and a little brother who also drowned.
From a one-room school and skipping a grade, and putting one over on my physics teacher.
I'm from a pink Chrysler and dyeing my clothes to match; and a hayride where I met my future wife.
I'm from forgetting my dress shoes on my hotter-than-Hades wedding day.
From faith and hymns and singing in a quartet.
I'm from tending chickens and teaching my children not to be chicken.
From near-misses and miracles and the miraculous journey of life.
And now I'm from teaching my great-grandchildren about the miracles of the journey,just as I taught their parents, and their parents before them.
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