Blog lurker

I a a blog lurker. There are a few that I check regularly and that i find entertaining. I don't leave messages or anything. I am a selfish reader.
I am always a bit jealous of the people who get sent 'memes' (see, I know the lingo, too) and do them. So I figured, why not just jump in myself? Noone will know. I'm not after following and I really don't care to start any big blog-relationship with anyone. I'm kinda shy.
Anyway, a girl who is startlingly like myself, a south-East Texas girl now living in Italy posted her version of this George Ella Lyons poem and it struck a chord. Even though hers is much better than mine, more poetic, I like mine, too.

I am from hand-me-down clothes, from Bluebell Ice Cream and pecan trees.I am from the town formerly known as Buttermilk Junction, the Texas gulf coast, and mosquitoes. From tennis courts, bicycles, pools and Friday night football.

I am from the oleander, the oak tree, bluebonnet and 110 percent humidity.

I am from chili rituals, compassion for all living beings and a never-ender curiosity: from Drakes and Harts, Calhouns and Littles.

I am from a strong sense of civic responsibility and the belief that everyone deserves respect and an education. From knowing that family is sacred, even if you don’t say it out loud.

From ‘look it up in the world book’ and ‘smile and the world smiles with you, frown and you frown alone’.

I am from the Episcopal church, Saint Michael’s and Trinity, from pot-luck dinners, Spring festival, Sunday school, humility, forgiveness and charity. I am from everyone has a good side.

I’m from an island, from Barton Springs, from somewhere in Northern Europe. I am Mexican food, barbeque, shrimp, milk at dinner. I am from Christmas carol parties and bourbon punch.

From the sunny room where my family gathered around my grandmother and heard her tell stories we had heard many times before, but that were always different, from fourth of July picnics on the beach with fried chicken and devilled eggs, from birthday mornings in bed, Christmas presents wrapped in bath towels and long, tormenting car trips across the United States.

I am from photo albums lining my brother’s closet, from my parents’ ashes, our family Bible and the Austin History Center. I am from my mother’s love of nature and cultures and my father’s blue eyes and determination. From a strong wish to conceive and a challenge, from three brothers who have taken on the role of fathers. This is where I’m from.