I am from a hill that seemed like a mountain, from Motown tunes and Lexington–style barbecue.
I am from the two-story red brick near the fire tower, a yard filled with clover, a home filled with beach music, the haunting scent of Halston drifting in my mother’s wake.
I am from the creamy white blossoms of a magnolia, bright bursts of azaleas, rattlers lurking in the rocks, the willow that no longer weeps in the front yard.
I am from a family of square jaws and missing men, from Grants and Jedidiah Calhoun and the Hoods of Cornelia.
I am from men struck down by cancer and women who love them – and weep for them – long after they’re gone.
I am from “You can do anything,” and “We love you no matter what.“
I am from Episcopal acolytes with winged robes, from embroidered cushions at the communion rail, from Rite Two of the Holy Eucharist, beginning on page 355 in the cracked spines of the Books of Common Prayer resting behind the pews next to dusty Bibles.
I’m from a land of cotton, red clay, and tobacco barns, a land forged by men who fought the Yanks and whose great-grandfathers lined up against the redcoats, where stone sentries stand guard in front of every courthouse in case they ever come back.
I am from a land of mystical and resourceful women, whose hands shape their children with both love and thunder, whose sublime power is masked by cloying words.
I am from the great-grandfather who drove a Model T up courthouse steps in Sylva, from a father who taught me how to hit the x-ring, from a line of hearts that bleed Carolina blue and crave Gamblers from the Rat.
I am from Confederate discharge papers framed on a grasscloth wall, from twangs and drawls, deviled eggs and bleeding rings of cranberry salad, from the rusted-out pickups of the Blue Ridge. I am from faith and family, served with hushpuppies and cold beer.
beautiful.
Angie…this is absolutely fantastic. What a wonderful, warm childhood!
This was awesome. I loved “I am from a land of mystical and resourceful women, whose hands shape their children with both love and thunder, whose sublime power is masked by cloying words.” and also the last paragraph. Beautifully written. So glad you joined in!
LOVE it. You inspire me.
I really loved all the imagery and sound descriptions. This was lovely, colorful and moving. Well Done!
You spoke images! Loved this!
this was a really great write up!
For me?
By far the most powerful line, the one that captured a whole lifetime of experience in a few carefully selected words?
The one that painted a vivid picture in my mind?
This . . .
“I am from a family of square jaws and missing men.”
That is just lovely.
I've sampled many a bleeding ring of cranberry salad. I love this post.
this made me smile, in a deep down-in-my-heart kind of way. beautiful, strong, imperfect, and great. My favorite bit? This:” I am from a land of mystical and resourceful women, whose hands shape their children with both love and thunder, whose sublime power is masked by cloying words.”
Would that we all were from women like that.
Wow… how thought provoking! This post is so colorful and full of imagery, lyrical and poetic, sad but warm. Loved it. Might go visit Red Writing Hood myself….
Hope all is well with you. Keep checking in for more witty banter and great writing!
I am from Waynesville,NC, near Sylva where your grandfather drove his Model T up the courthouse steps. Blue ridge mountains, rhododendrons, Cherokee legends,morning mists, rocky streams in a forest of evergreen trees…