The sense of humor displayed among the Memory Connections writers at Bethany Lutheran Church delighted me each time I walked in the room. “Hey, I know you!” one gentleman exclaimed. “Now, what’s your name?” and he would laugh at his joke. Nature poems and memories of mouth-watering foods they enjoyed as children flowed onto the pages. One question, “Where are you from?” followed by the reading of “Child of Summer” by Lynn Worley, launched much discussion about not only the cities, states, and countries in which we were born, but who played Monopoly on Friday nights or slept on a screened-in porch. The writers shared that they were from “homemade soup and stuffed cabbage,” as well as “I am from a guitar given to me after tears and sorrow so I could play it all away.” I am humbled by the honesty and laughter that greeted me each time I joined this amazingly gifted writing group. I know you will enjoy their work as much as I did.
I’m from homemade soup and stuffed cabbage.
I’m from “be home by dark.”
I’m from Slovak ancestors.
I’m from my antique collection.
I’m from my maternal grandmother.
I’m from Youngstown, Ohio.
I’ve always felt close to my sister. We live miles apart now, but we try to connect at least one or two times a week. She is twenty years older than I am, so I always went to her for advice or a recipe for something our Mom cooked. We are both alone now—her husband died and I am divorced—so it would be great to live with her. If we were closer in distance, we probably would. We both have four children and always catch up on them and our grandchildren. I really miss her (my brothers, too) and so I hope I get to visit them in the near future.
I’m from tandoori chicken.
I’m from “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
I’m from Indian ancestors, speaking Bengali as my language, and hearing stories from my mom.
I’m from Scrabble and Rummy.
I’m from my dad.
I’m from Bareilly, India, where my dad worked for forty years before retiring.
Grandkids keep me young. I get to see my younger ones on a regular basis, and my youngest grandson when he takes the bus from school on Tuesdays. We have a snack together. He enjoys my ice tea, especially since it’s sweetened, and shares part of my sandwich. We play games like Connect Four, reading, and drawing. On a nice day, he likes playing with kids from the neighborhood—soccer, chase, riding their bikes. It’s the day of the week I really look forward to.
Stories from My Pen
Between my finger and thumb, I hold this pen. I can see things I still remember as a child. My father and mother were great parents, and there were lots of siblings—three daughters and five brothers. We were loved by our parents. I remember times when my father worked long hours, and my mom took good care of us. There were so many of us, and we all knew what they did for us. To this day, I have not forgotten what they lovingly did.
We had great times on trips we took to Ohio to visit my grandparents. I remember the girls helped Mom clean the house, and the boys worked with Dad on the cars. I remember lots of things.
I’m from fish sticks.
I’m from “In or out!”
I’m from Irish ancestors.
I’m from Mom and Dad, plus many brothers and sisters.
I’m more like my mother.
I’m from Indiana.
Flowers in Season
It is Spring!
Purple flowers are in bloom …
while the hint of pink is peeking through.
The bridge is covered with all kinds of vegetation—
most of all, this reminds me of walking with my husband
when the temperature is calling us!
My Dad was always working and always walking through the park to get to his office. When his office closed, my cousin Bill found a position in the bank where my Dad was. What I loved about my Dad is that he once turned down an adding machine—his adding machine was his mind! I loved doing math, which was my major in high school and college. This was my Dad’s influence. Dad loved to write poetry from his own thoughts. My prayer is that I will be my Dad!
I’m from ice cream on a cold night.
I’m from “Where are the A’s on the report card?”
I’m from Irish and English ancestors.
I’m from my wedding ring since fifty-three years ago.
I’m from my older sister Dorothy, since we look alike.
I’m from Mt. Vernon and Decatur, Illinois.
My Sunday Dinner Date
On a very cold day in December 1958, I invited a close friend, Robert, to my home for Sunday dinner. I was kind of nervous when he said, “Great!” He surprised me when he arrived carrying flowers. But he had brought them for my mother! We had a wonderful time and shared our Sunday lunches for many years. My family loved him. However, he joined the Army and died in the line of duty. His memory remains.
One of the things I carry with me is my rosary. It’s important to me because it’s a symbol of my faith and it carries memories that go back many, many years. I was raised in the year of the Great Depression of the 1900s. Times were uncertain at best. As a member of a large Catholic family with six children, I was sent to a Catholic girls’ school. My teachers were all nuns and each day, we attended church to “say the rosary.”
This time in church gave me a feeling of serenity, that someone or something was watching out for me. A feeling I did not get from my family because of the scarcity of money, jobs, etc. My parents were loving and good people, but both of them had to work, plus run a small farm to provide food for us.
I’m from homemade bread and butter made in an old-fashioned churn,
from cream skimmed from the top of a milk pail and from Wisconsin.
I’m from any song by Bing Crosby in the ‘40s and ‘50s.
I’m from German, Polish, and Irish ancestors, and beer drinking.
I’m from a family of book readers and book lovers!
I’m from a large family, and especially fond of two sisters who were kind to me.
I’m from West Allis, Wisconsin.
I lived in Seattle, Milwaukee, Chicago, Pennsylvania, California, and Austin and Houston, Texas.
My father’s mother and I are probably more alike than not. We are both short. She did nothing besides chain smoke and eat and take the kids to perform—you know, dance and sing with percussion. She must have talked a lot to herself and everyone else. I was always quiet, I think, playing piano and dancing and singing to myself.
I really don’t know much about Grandmammy. She must have inspired everyone around her. Let’s face it. She was the talented one who allowed everyone else to entertain her.
I’m from perch on Fridays and goo on Wednesdays.
I’m from playing on Friday nights.
I’m from German-Czech ancestors.
I’m from Pink Floyd songs and visits to Europe.
I’m from Grandmammy, my father’s mother.
I’m from Ft. Bragg, North Carolina, Mineral Wells and Dime Box, Texas, New York City, and Heidelberg and Schwetzingen, Germany
My Bible is important to me because I believe it is the number one book of wisdom. I have several Bibles, and I refer to different ones at different times, depending on the need of the moment. They are of several shapes and sizes. Two are quite large at 8” X 10” and two will fit in my purse easily. I carry a small one to church on Sunday, and use it while the minister is teaching from a specific Bible passage. He teaches about that Scripture passage during the Sunday morning sermon. Then, he expounds on the wisdom and appreciation of the Bible. Following the sermon, we are dismissed to gather into small groups, where the Bible Scriptures are taught with discussion and questions.
The Spectacular Sunrise
Standing inside my daughter and son-in-law’s house, I can go to any room and view the spectacular sunrise. It’s exhilarating to breathe in the hill country air and smell the fragrant flowers. The reddish, purple clouds cast a hue on the hills and flowers that bring even more vibrant colors.
I’m from fried foods and homemade food, pastries, and desserts.
I’m from my parents listening to old music.
I’m from Dutch and German ancestors.
I’m from my wedding ring and my family.
I’m from, and look like, my dad and Uncle James.
I’m from Norfolk, Nebraska.
Love for Pizza
I love the smell of fresh pizza.
I love the fresh, doughy crust.
I love the feel of a slice of pizza in my hand.
I love the taste of fresh pizza with toppings I like—
pepperoni, Canadian bacon, olives, tomato sauce—
and, don’t forget the peppers!
I love the lingering taste in my mouth.
I love a great pizza!
(Did I mention I love pizza?)
About fifty-six years ago, when I was taking my girlfriend (now my wife) out, the car stopped. No, it wasn’t that I was out of gas! A guy came along and helped us in the middle of the night. He took us back to his restaurant where he treated us to lobster tails and steak. It wasn’t a poor community, but you certainly didn’t buy lobster tails.
My wife Marilyn and I were married for fifty-five years on May 25, 2018, and are taking a three-day trip to San Antonio. When I reflect back to that time so long ago in Madison, Wisconsin, when a stranger helped us, I know it was a very different time, where you didn’t worry if your car broke down. There would be someone who would always stop and help you.
A Big Red Apple
There once was a big red apple hanging in a tree. I could see it from my back room window. I knew the tree was tall, and I was so small. I would reach out to the red apple before I had to go to bed. Then, one night, I fell asleep and had a nightmare! I awoke in the morning and looked out the window.
The apple was gone. My dream was dashed!
I went to breakfast. There on my plate was the big red apple. What a surprise my mom gave me again. What a mom!
I’m from candy and sugar and cavities sometimes.
I’m from all over the place.
I’m from a guitar given to me after tears and sorrow,
so I could play it all away.
I am from my younger sister Jo.
I’m from Houston, Texas.
Starr D. Hawkins
Tiny Things of Nature
My home is on Dorilla Road in Austin. Yesterday, I walked and turned and turned. I love tiny things, and as I was walking, I saw these miniature flowers, yellow and white, the cutest things! I showed them to my husband, who said, “Starr, that’s illegal to pick those!” When I see them, I remember picking them as a little girl.
April is my favorite month—my sister Jo’s birthday. She died of heart disease when she was only forty-four, and all she ever wanted was children. She had five wonderful children.
Starr D. Hawkins