Tuesday Tunes & Where I'm From

Fruit Bats' newest album is out today. I've been digging them ever since discovering The Ruminant Band last spring. Those 11 songs and a generous helping of Hyperbole and a Half were almost entirely responsible for getting me through the semester.

Have you discovered the "Where I'm From" writing prompt? I was inspired by Artist Mother Teacher's version. Below is my own rough-around-the-edges attempt--I don't pretend it's poetry. I encourage you, dear friends, to give it a try as well.


I am from sandy Gulf beaches and dry Midwestern plains, from garage sale Skip-Its and Barbie roller skates decked with iridescent tassels. 

I am from the house whose flaws made my parents shudder, but whose leaky ceiling and Formica kitchen bar were cause for childhood wonder and excitement. 

I am from a field of sunflowers, a pasture littered with 4th of July remnants, a garden that produced tomatoes (always perfect) and carrots (always far from it). 

I am from generations of blonde hair, blue eyes and Christmas parties that fill church gymnasiums. 

I am from Mike and Cathy, who taught me the proper way to eat grapes and the beauty of just breathing. 

I am from summer stays in Edmond, where backyard owls and downtown Indians live, and rainy cabin days at Beaver’s Bend, where Grandfather reads the weekend paper from his lawn chair, perched on top of the cement picnic table. 

I am from “Do your very best,” be it at school or work or life. 

I am from innumerable baptism and wedding receptions, from “May the dear Lord bless you’s” and Friday Fish Fries and stiff plaid jumpers. 

I am from Louisiana and Kansas and Germany, from back porch crawfish parades and Catfish King hush puppies, from Bionic Burger fries and milkshakes, from craft fair bierocks, from spicy sweet potato soup each Christmas. 

I am from an evening curled up in a blanket in Oklahoma, watching “Frank the Sign” and pretending not to be terrified. 

From sticky summer nights in which my brother and I refused to leave the pool's deep blue glory, while moths and June bugs cast shadows on our splashes as they hovered around the porch light.

From a morning routine of driving my sleepy sister to the track so that she could burn more calories in an hour than I would all day. 

I am from a faded blue photo album dotted with pink flowers, from an attic into which birds can fly and delay vacation plans, from a dented trunk my mother owned in college—I will probably never throw it away. 

I am from big sunsets and big ideas. I am from teachers, entrepreneurs, travelers, artists. I am from young, old, imperfect, selfless, distance-spanning, unending love.