Where I’m From #19By Erik SandstromInspired by George Ella LyonI am from the toy bins at the Ben Franklin Five and DimeFrom a Mattel Fanner 50 and a tube of Testor’s glueI am from a tiny bedroom, walls papered with photos from the pages of Car Craft and Hot Rod magazineSafe, embracing - leaves from the backyard oak brush against my window screenI am from the onions rotting in Sakata’s field which we hurled at each other on the walk to schoolI’m from cramped family road trips in the blue 63 Volkswagen and Ed Sullivan on Sunday night atGrandpa and Grandma’sI’m from my father Bill, who dies the year I was born, mom Margie, with two sons to raise, and stepdadClint – dutiful, restrained, unknowableI’m from quiet avoidance and whispered kindnessFrom “If you fall into Fulton’s ditch, you’ll turn into a buttercup” to “Crying upstairs in a bucket!”I’m from my Jewish mother and grandparents, being baptized as a Methodist, and survivor of theBrighton Seventh Day Adventist academyBorn in Denver with a family tree reaching through Sweden and Eastern EuropeFrom Cheerios with blueberries and sun teaFrom Grandpa riding the streetcar downtown to the Western Union building where he decipheredtelegrams; from sitting in the car, reading comics, while mom attended her medical vocabulary classesI am from the decades of photos – grey and white, Kodachrome and polaroids - stored in containers inthe closet. And my son’s artwork on the wall. His school writing projects and drawings tucked away infolders for the day he shares them with his daughter.Where to find Alyson:Website: https://www.alysonshelton.comSubstack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/ 

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