Where I'm From
The OLLI Legacy Letter Writing Group started in April 2022 as a course offered by OLLI instructor and retired MSU faculty member Jill Davis. These members have continued to meet monthly, creating writings inspired by author George Ella Lyon. OLLI class participants' renditions of “Where I am From” will be featured monthly in our newsletter.
“Where Am I From”
By Joyce Van Horn, OLLI at MSU member and Legacy Letter Writing program participant
This question always befuddles me - having moved every three to five years of my entire life and having lived in six different states, fifteen different cities and three different countries and having traveled around most of the corners of this world, I like to think that I am from this amazing planet, Earth.
However, leaving the physical locations aside, I discover where I am truly from.
I am from one bald, ugly Baby Girl Bennett, who was born with an obvious talent for screaming?
I am from four-year-old barefoot me sitting alone on the end of the dock at the Annapolis Yacht Club watching the lights turn on at the U.S. Naval Academy and reflect across the Chesapeake Bay to my wondering eyes kindling questions, possibilities and dreams,
I am from the crabs I watched crawl up and down the wooden pilings that held up the dock.
I am from the dock’s splinters that plagued my naked feet.
I am from my fascination of the froth created in the green translucent waves as they splashed and crashed against the dock.
I am from our ever-rocking boat tied securely in its slip at the Yacht Club, where we lived and slept every summer.
I am from ordering a hot-fudge sundae for breakfast at the Annapolis yacht Club when I was five. My big (ten year old) sister, Joanie, who was my default babysitter, had suggested it and I smiled at her brilliant idea and bravely ordered myself a hot fudge sundae with wet nuts and whipped cream. Joanie order scrambled eggs, but when my chocolate sundae arrived, she said,
“Oh, that looks so good, I think I’ll have one too!”
I would like to leave out the memory of myself at the window of our house in Baltimore screaming as my mother and father backed out of the driveway in their black Cadillac convertible, but, yes, I am from a little girl screaming,
“Mommy, please don’t leave me!”
But I would want to remember how Joanie and I decided to jump on the bed like a trampoline that same night until we heard a terrible
“Crack”
and the bed, still held firm by the headboard, descended on one corner to the floor. When Mother and Daddy got home, we pretended to be asleep in this awkwardly angled bed. Joanie’s strategy didn’t work this time.
When Mother and Daddy checked on us, we heard them say,
“Well, they are asleep, so we won’t wake them.”
as they went off to bed, leaving us to sleep in our broken bed disaster.
I am from pouring Gin down the drain and supplementing the half empty liquor bottle with water (and getting soundly scolded for my actions.)
I am from the colorful fall leaves that I raked into imaginary lines, lines which I imagined were the walls of the leaf house I was designing on the front lawn.
I am from a boarding school that helped me build a scaffolding to support a healthy life.
I am from three brave, amazing sisters who grew up strong and loving.
I am from an anxious yet loving husband, who was always there, yet always gone fifty percent of the time.
I am from my own three daughters, who taught me how to truly love.
I am from friends! Boarding school buddies, who still listen and care, Art friends, Belgian friends, and now Bozeman friends!
Unearthing and uncovering all these magical memories, both good and bad, is a miracle itself, and makes me recognize that where I am from is the experience that I live, and it never stops until we breathe our last breath, and where I am from is who I really am.
Now, today, I am from my loving supporting family and a unique group of friends in Bozeman, who listen attentively and support me as I spill out memories, hopes and fears hidden in the mazes and forgotten corners of my long, long life. Listening to my friends’ stories, I am amazed and enriched and encouraged. People have incredible stories!
Like a symphony orchestra, in this amazing writing group, we all sing out our sagas, our hopes and our disappointments under the direction of our amazing conductor, Jill, who has the wisdom to hold our secrets in safe places and who encourages us all to dig deeper and to sing louder.
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