George Ella Lyon

http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html

A Children's Writer from Kentucky inspires us to consider where we are from. The graduate students I am teaching this fall, I hope, will enjoy reflecting about their own culture as they enter into studying Children's Literature from diverse perspectives.

A wonderful professor I had at Duke, Stephen Dunning, believed that we can learn to write poetry as we learn to shoot a free throw, or hit a forehand. We look to an expert, then we copy/and change to what feels natural for us. And we thank them. So many years I watched my sons jump on a trampoline to dunk a basketball ball like Michael Jordon. It was thrilling. When Dr. Dunning applied this teaching method to poetry, he called it, "Getting the Knack." I love it, and have used it for years to learn and to teach.

Where I'm From

Where I’m From
By Sarah Borders
With thanks to George Ella Lyon


I am from Palmolive Soap
From White Rain Shampoo and Old Dutch Cleanser
I am from the red clay that
Stuck to white socks and saddle shoes
I am from the dogwood tree
Outside our dining room window
Blooming for Easter.

I am from tomato sandwiches on light bread
And cold wave perms
I am from white gloves, Easter dresses and Bermuda shorts;
From Margaret O’Brien and Natalie Wood
I’m from silver punch bowls and the silver screen
My mother was from the “Haves”
But my daddy was from the “Have Nots”
“We were poor, but we didn’t know it,” the Gastons say.
I am from a red coupe with a running board and a Bel Aire Chevie
I am from O Say Can You See
And Jesus Loves the Little Children and
The Lord is My Shepherd, I shall not want.

I am from Chopin’s Polonaise and “Let’s Pretend”
From the swing in the strong oak tree;
I am from Davie Avenue School and the First Baptist Church;
From fried squash and bananas with peanut butter and Aunt Kat’s fruit punch;
From my daddy’s lap, and my grandmother’s porch glider.

Under my bed were Belk dress boxes filled with ribbons,
Wrinkled valentines, baseball game stubs,
“Five Minute Date” cards and pressed Easter corsages.

I am from gray scrapbook pages with yellowing scotch tape
And jerky home movies;
And boxes of collectibles not long ago moved from my mother’s dust-free attic
To my very own garage,
Where my very own granddaughter loves to rummage around…
Perhaps to discover
where she’s from.