I am from fire hoses and plumbing tools

From bleach and Dawn dish soap

I am from the pine trees, dirt pile and infamous mud puddle

I am from chives and bleeding hearts

I am from Grampa's reading and brown eyes

From Nellie and Ruth, both firm believers in doing your best and helping others

I am from iron will and eternal allegiance and love

From respecting your elders and pacing children needs before your own

I am from Grampa's strong, rough, all-knowing voice at Christmas, telling us the story of Bethlehem.

A religion we don't strictly follow or act upon, but crowd around to hear his voice.

I'm hinds-fifty-seven, mutt, grown out of dirt and sweat

Black coffe and garlic bread

From the live it up, laugh it out and avoid stupid melodramatics view of Great Grammy Ruth and the quiet, well-mannered, loving attitude of Great Grammy Nellie, a modren Mother Teresa

I am from unfiled and untold pictures, filling boxes boxes in my mother and father's room

I am stories of my parents', parents', parents' time filled with modern day ways. The mixture of different times and flamboyant flare.

I am old and new.