Where I'm From.

Warning: Extraordinarily random post ahead.

Literally where I'm from.

Okay.

Today I was thinking about my "Top Ten" and had nothing popping into my head worth listing. I put it on ice and decided to wait to be inspired. Well. . . .I didn't get inspired to make my top ten, but I did get inspired.

The inspiration came from a "blog meme" that I learned of while reading one of my favorite blogs this week and again today.

Before you ask what in the expletive-of-your-choice a "meme" is, I'll tell you. A "meme" is like an idea, a theme or a topic that somehow gets thrown out there that then goes viral. Well, not really viral per se. . .but an idea or thought that gets passed around. In the blog-writing world, a blog meme is something that prompts a topic on a blog. (Thanks for that definition, Ann!)

As it turns out, there's other memes, too. An internet meme might be that same email that everybody and their mama keeps asking you to forward to five thousand people, or some youtube video that no matter where you go, seems to be embedded in somebody's site--and that you just can't stop looking at.

Kind of like this one which I find equal parts horrible and hilarious:



Anyways.

My blog-friend (and author of the aforementioned) happens to be both a real blogger and a "stay-at-home-humorist" and she was the one who humored me with this . . . blog meme. . that she used for her last post. This meme--wait, can't we just say "theme?"--is called "Where I'm from" and its origin lies deep inside of a touchy-feely poem by George Ella Lyon (who I admittedly just heard of today but who does seem kind of cool.)

Okay. The way it works is that you make your own version of "Where I'm From" by including details applicable to you. Ann (the stay-at-home humorist ) shared this link that kind of explains how to do it in detail. (Thanks again, Ann.)

Yeah. So I read the details, reread Ann's post, felt inspired and decided to do it (since when it came to the top ten I had nothin.')

One of the things the description said about this exercise is that "the prompts have a way of drawing out memories of the smells of attics and bottom-drawer keepsakes."

Well. . . I don't know about all that, but I do know that Ann (the stay-at-home-humorist's) super witty version did make me laugh . . . . .and want take a crack at it. . . .




So here we are. Today, I bring you my version of "Where I'm From." And yeah, yeah I know today is supposed to be the Top Ten. . . but a girl has to go with her inspiration!



Drum roll please. . . . . .

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Where I'm From: A Throwback Love Story

What you know about Chinese jump rope?

What you know about ice cream man?

What you know about Radio Raheem?

Where am I from?


Man. . . I'm from street lights that come on at dusk and butt-whoopin's if you don't get in the house before they do; from Skippy peanut butter and Welch's grape; from fried baloney sandwiches, Ramen noodles, and "breakfast for dinner."

I'm from green stucco houses sandblasted with precision, from one tree per lot, and from shorts on Christmas. I'm from metal swingsets that squeak from the rust that rubs off on your hands and pants but that still work just fine, and from go ask your mama if she can "loan" me a cup of sugar and some buttermilk.

I'm from "hot peas and butter!". . . from double-dutch on the corner from sun up to sun down with the good phone cord, from Chinese jacks, Chinese jumprope, and Chinese chicken salad. I'm from cornrows by my homegirl Bernetta complete with beads and tin foil on the end that let you swing your hair back and forth; I'm from sizzling Blue Magic under pressing combs in the kitchen and "hold yo' head still 'fore I burn you!"

I'm from Tom and Jerry, Schoolhouse Rock, and "Michael Jackson is on Soul Train!" I'm from "Damn! Damn! Damn!" after Florida lost James, from "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" and getting socked in the eye real hard by a boy in my second grade class for calling him "Kunta"-- as in "Kunta Kinte" from Roots.

What you know about "Damn, damn, damn?"

What you know about Kunta Kinte and Chicken George?

I'm from concrete everywhere but beaches and mountains close by; from running after ice cream trucks that drive way too fast for kids to be around and sitting on the curb eating Now'n'Laters, Jolly Ranchers, and big fat dill pickles.

I'm from Rapper's Delight, La-di-da-di, backwards rollerskating, mean German shepherds named "King," and neighborhood drill teams. I'm from fights on the last day of school, from pop-locking at recess, beatboxing and breakdancing on cardboard boxes and yawning at sightings of Bloods and Crips.

I'm from family meetings, color coded chore assignments, and "Wake your behind up 'cause this kitchen is a mess"; from a pack of beef jerky for good grades and "Don't tell Daddy we got our progress reports, okay? 'Cause you got good grades and I got just okay grades, but not okay conduct and I really don't want a whoopin'."

I'm from Mudear, Sugar, Bunny, Skeeter, Boot, Chief, Pipes, and Bodena; from first, second, third and play cousins and from cross country road trips to Alabama in the back of a wood-paneled Plymouth station wagon.

I'm from "What did I say?" and from "the look" that made you close your mouth; from little penguins sewn onto homemade shirts in places curiously similar to alligators.

What you know about a double belt?

I'm from the Church of "Do Your Damn Homework and Clean Up That Damn Room"; from the "Every Blue Moon" ministry and the Figure-It-Out-For-Yourself Faith, and from "So what if I learned The Lord's Prayer from Prince's song "Controversy"--at least I know it!"

I'm from "I expected more out of you", "I'm so proud of you," and "I never expected anything less of you." I'm from standing ovations, T-ball coaches, PTA presidents, and "No, I can't skip class with you guys 'cause my daddy on the School Board."

I'm from consistent and predictable, from steadfast and selfless, from airtight hugs and kisses on the lips. I'm from historically black college graduates that seem exactly like the Huxtables and first ones to go to college that seem nothing like the Huxtables. I'm from perfect imperfection and a drive to always shoot for the stars that always was driven home.

Who me?

I'm from love. Yeah, man. That's where I'm from.

********

What you know about tinfoil on the end of your braids?

Hmmm. . . . that was actually kind of fun. Kind of like attic smells and bottom-drawer keepsakes even.

So tell me. . . . where YOU from? And no, Mom (aka the-typo-and-grammar-po'-po')-- I didn't mean to say "Where're" or "Where are" you from--I mean to say exactly what I said. Which was:

WHERE YOU FROM?

I can already think of several people whose version of this I'd LOVE to hear. . . . what you got?

***

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . . Digable Planets "Where I'm From"