Where I’m From
The kids and I read and discussed “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon:
Where I’m From
I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the 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’m 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 Artemus 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.
And then I had them write their own Where I’m From poems. I got everything from the hilarious (Jamar)
I am from my Converses
That I wear about every day for my fashion purposes
to the alliterative (Daniel)
I am from the Wii,
From the wild.
to the sad
I am from the ramp leading up to my front door.
[Aaron is in a wheelchair.]
to the wise beyond her years (Kyrie)
I’m from notes being passed and looks being exchanged.
I am from a full shelf of books I no longer read,
Trophies that I cannot recall exactly how they were earned
to the nope, not quite (Emiré)
I love when it’s Christmas
The warm cookies and the snow mans in the snow
The nice red stockings
And we wake up to some nice merchandise
to the…really? “big shaped mirrors”? (Jaeden)
I am from the Shane Family
In my family we had tons of dogs
We had every breed and every kind of dog
In my backyard we have a 12-year old shed.
In my neighborhood we have a 20-year old house
My Family has hundreds of big shaped mirrors
We loved to do thanksgiving because we got to eat all
my ancestors’ food.
to the I can hear it as spoken word (Jeremy)
I am from religious ceremonies and holy matrimonies.
Through the grapevine I heard the whispering voices that weren’t supposed to be heard.
From baptism to the church choir.
I’m from better or worse or worse to better.
I’m from leatherheads with speed and agility.
The country to the city is my origins.
Dogs big to small.
70’s afro style to 21st century braids.
Scars and bruises and spankings and switches.
to the tries to ruin itself with a last-line cliché but can’t because it’s just too awesome (Raquayne)
to the Y-chromosomed (Yusuf has three brothers)
to the I don’t understand it, but I effing love it (Nelson).
I’m from all these kids, and some days, that’s a pretty cool thing.
The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 8
If you’re new, here’s the beginning of the Tulip Chronicles.
Day 1
The previous day’s Feisty Fido class had been taught by an ex-Navy man with blue eyes and a lot of sun damage. He had worn a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Smiled and smoked and cursed for the whole class. He had told us to walk in small circles, essentially herding our dogs, and make short, sharp tugs on the leash to keep the dogs focused.
Tulip and I go out in the driveway and walk in circles. Tulip does well, though she doesn’t sit on command. I have to “tell her once and then make it happen”, like the guy’s assistant had told me to do.
I put her inside and bring Redford and Violet out. Violet goes first and is a goddamn champ. She tries to sniff around at first, but once she realizes there’s a new sheriff in town, she’s all business.
Guess who’s uh asshole. Redford. That punk wants to walk me, and I’m all, ‘Nuh-uh,’ and he’s all, ‘Yeah-huh.’ And I’m all, ‘NUH-UH,’ and he’s all, ‘Awww, man.’
Day 2
We walk in circles. Tulip still won’t sit on command when we’re training. (She will when we’re inside and/or when she knows I have a treat.) I keep making it happen.
It’s been four weeks! Tulip is off restriction from her heartworm shut-down. I throw the plastic monkey with the rope tail around the yard for her. She gallops and cavorts. It’s the picture of happiness.
Day 3
We walk in circles. Still not sitting.
Tulip and I are shut up in the spare room. She’s chewing on something. I’m playing Scramble on my iPhone. She paces once across the room and squats to pee on the floor! I go, “Nonononononono,” but she’s going. I run out to get paper towels, and she slips through the door behind me. “NONONONONONONO.” I shuffle dogs faster than a Three-Card Monti dealer in Washington Square. They’re all surprised as shit, so they have no time to get into it with each other.
I put Tulip outside for a potty break. I wish I knew why, once in a blue moon, she thinks it’s kosher to piss on the floor.
I have now had Tulip longer than I had Buffy. That seems crazy.
Day 4
We walk in circles. Still not sitting. But we go around the block, and she does well.
Day 5
Day 6
We walk in circles. I’m getting frustrated with making the sitting happen.
Violet and Redford are doing well individually, so I we loop around the block together. It’s so much less frustrating that our usual walks, where my shoulders get regularly dislocated! I yike it!
Day 7
Tulip wakes me up whining. I think she’s just bored in the kennel, but when I take her out, she won’t eat her breakfast. Then the backwards gulp starts. I toss Redford and Violet into my room and flap Tulip to the kitchen door. She’s still uh-ggging, and it looks like she’s going to upchuck right there on the deck. I run outside and shoo her into the yard where she barfs. Then I slink back inside.
If Alfred happened to be looking out his window at 7:36am, then he got a hellified action shot of me in my underpants and camisole.
Protected: Mike
Protected: I Am the Graest Teacher
Protected: Honey Ham Light Rain
Protected: Lev
The Foster Chronicles: Tulip, Week 7
Day 1
When I got Redford and Violet, I taught them to wait for their food. They must sit and wait until I say, “OK,” before they start to eat. I can walk ten feet away and they’ll just sit there waiting for me to give them the signal. And drool.
I practice with Tulip. I tell her to sit and start to put the food on the floor. She lunges at it.
I pick it up, tell her to sit, and bend down again. She hurls herself at it again.
Last time, same story, but as she’s bolting toward the bowl, I say, “OK,” so at least she’s hearing the signal.
Day 2
We try the food thing again. She works herself into a frenzy. I manage a quick “OK” as she catapults herself onto her breakfast.
Day 3
What am I doing wrong here? She will not wait for her food.
Nelly texts me to say her circumstances have changed and it doesn’t look like she’ll be able to adopt Tulip. :(
Day 4
I decide to create a website to help Tulip find a fur-ever home. I get as far as setting up a username.
Day 5
She waits a half second for her food!
Day 6
She does not wait a half second for her food.
I spend about eight hours making this tumblr blog. (Will you please share it on your Facebook and/or Twitter? And encourage your friends and/or followers to do the same?)
We go for a walk in the rain. Back at the house, I leave Tulip sitting on the deck step tied to the railing, as usual, so I can unleash Redford and Violet. This time, it takes a little longer than usual what with the drying off. When I go back out to get Tulip, I find she has flung herself over the railing onto the deck.
Day 7
Tulip’s out; Redford and Violet in. Redford starts agitating—grumbling and sprinting back and forth between the living room window and the kitchen door. I look out the door. Tulip is across the street sniffing around. Guess I can’t leave her on the deck by herself anymore.
I call her. She looks up but doesn’t come. I head back into the house to grab a treat and, by the time I reach the door, she’s sprinting back.
She’s really cute when she runs.
Tulip and I attend the first session of her Feisty Fido class. We both learn a lot. I think this is going to be good for us.
She waits a full one-Mississippi for her food. Woot!
Protected: In Feelings
Things I Find Highly Satisfying
1. My dogs.
2. My foster dog.
3.Other peoples’ dogs.
4. Neti pot. (I know I’m going to die from brain amoebae, but in the meantime, it’s really satisfying to go from not breathing to breathing with just a little bit of salt water.)
5. Pictures of dogs.
6. Roomba.
7. When I drop by my sister’s house and one of the kids goes, “Nunu, could you stay for supper? Pleeeeeeaase?” like I’d be doing them a big favor.
8. Pictures of puppies.
9. iPhone.
10. Hoodie-and-flip-flop weather.
11. A well-executed ally-oop.
12. A perfectly sharp #2 Ticonderoga.
13. The fact that my brother married the woman I chose for him.
14. My deck.
15. The picnic table my brother built me for my birthday a couple years ago. On my deck.
(I hope that stray puppy found a fur-ever home.)
16. The This American Life podcast.
17. Sunday brunch buffet at Geer Street Garden.
18. My sister’s cooking.
What about you?