I am From poem revised again

“I am from…” poem   by Geri Hagler  revised again and again

I am from the ever playing stereo,

from books and bubble baths

I am from the falling apart rental house

where we took refuge among the long grass and ivy,

from the fig tree we climbed, and the shade tree that held my imaginary

owl friend

whose long gone limbs

I remember

I’m from volatile, explosive, angry energy

from  Jews and Christians,

I’m from eating late, going to the park, and watching

Yankee baseball,

I’m  from, “Why can’t you be more like……”

and “Go out to play,”

 and  “You little nudnik” (Yiddish for ‘pest’)

and singing “Zippity Doo-Da”

I’m from listening to political discourse and debate,

I’m from wherever we kept moving to, all over,

 but born in L.A.,

ancestors from Russia, Germany, Poland, France, England, Ireland

 can’t I just be from America?

I’m from lox and bagels, pickled tongue,

corn bread, ham hocks and navy white beans,

From grandmother Celia,

whose Alzheimer’s allowed her to be happy for once,

as she played in the elevator, going up and down,

 until she got in trouble

photos  of my four year old brother’s first kiss,

and my three year old brother’s face full of jam,

remembering climbing, hide-n-seeking,

disappearing into cowboys and Indians

a lifetime of photos on the wall, in albums,

 of who we were and how we came to be