Sunday, October 25, 2009

Young love, our love...we share with deep emotion...

These two versions of "Where I'm From" are from my young bloggy friend Jaggy and her brand-new husband, The Man. When I say brand-new, I mean a husband of one week! Jaggy is my honorary 'niece'...or so I feel about her. I've been following her blog for a long time now and I told her a long time ago she reminds me so much of myself a million years ago when I was her age. Our minds work alike in a lot of ways. I was around when she first met The Man, who was The Boy back then. Oooooooh, young love! 'Seeing' this romance blossom from the words she wrote on her blog entries has brought back a lot of the memories of the courting days of Dear Hubby and me. I think I've written before how Dear Hubby told his friends when they'd dropped me off at my parents' house after our first date that, "Someday I'm going to marry that girl." These two young lovers sound as if they come from similar backgrounds, as Dear Hubby and I did, and after 35 years together I can say that sharing a lot of the root values in life have helped to enrich our lives. I'm sure they'll enrich Jaggy's and The Man's, too. Thank you, Jaggy and The Man, for letting me share these wonderful poems. First we hear from Jaggy:

Where Jaggy is From

I am from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, from Scholastic book clubs, and the Beaver State.
I am from the wide front porch, hockey up and down the long hallway, and a slip-n-slide dining room.
I am from red-all-the-way-through strawberries and monster rhododendrons, the Bleeding hearts and grapes tucked away on the side of the farm.
I am from sugar cookies and stubbornness, from Oscar and Jean and parents who loved me whether I liked it or not.
I am from the pioneers, the real Oregon Trail ones, the Protestant ideal of “work hard and ye shall succeed,” and that my word is my bond.
From gingerpeachykeeno and summathat, cricks and oyoyoy!
I am from Sunday morning Nascar races, visiting family all weekend long, and feeling Bible-thumped by friends that now have a hard time understanding why I became Catholic.
I'm from the flatlands surrounded by mountains, from grass county, from the Willamette Valley, from Germany and England and Russia, from milk noodle soup and Mom’s spaghetti.
I am from the woman who fended off angry Native Americans from the back of a covered wagon with an axe, a grandpa whose tickles lasted long after he stopped wiggling his fingers on my belly, and parents who always read to me when I asked.
I am from a hand-made pink flannel photo album, a little blue French textbook, a family tree spanning four continents in six hundred years, from the guffy house full of treasures of Dad’s life, his parents’ life, and lives way way back on the old farm.

Where The Man is From

I am from the forgotten streambed where cattle roamed, from Bookmobile forays and too-short sweat pants.
I am from the creaky upstairs with slanted roof, or the backyard swing set on the kid-imagined mountain.
I am from Kleczynski reunions and bony noses, from Grandma K’s donuts and Uncle Ken’s barbeques and Steinkamp camping trips.
I am from life-long friendships that push me every day just to be worthy of them.
From the land of strangeporks, weirdbeards and bedtime Aesop’s.
I am from tough-kneed Catholics and quiet, powerful faith, where you’re family if you join us twice. Bring food next time.
I'm from stubbornness and determination, a combination just as deadly as Mom’s macaroni and cheese and Linda’s banana cream pie, and where an incurable disease known as Jerkism seems to run in the family.
I am from the thorny blackberry bushes hiding secret forts, the backyard trees with hotdogs for leaves.
From scenic routes through Eastern Oregon, sometimes with no flat tires, and from snow-packed skiing trails perfect for pushing dad over.
I am from whole-family pictures numbered to remind us who is who, JustBesideAndMy and WalkMeBeFriend, and walls stuffed with laughter where the house is warmed by love just as much as woodstoves.


Donna said...


Jaggy said...

Thank you! We both labored hard over these the day before our wedding (stress relief some might call it).