All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
I Am From
I am from fresh, flour tortillas
and squeaky cheese curds.
I am from sixty degree weather year round
to harsh winters and sweltering summers.
I am from dress up and
I am from ripping, and screaming, and salty tears.
I am from unruly hair.
I am from The Courtyard,
Blue's Clues, Spongebob,
I am from fluffy cats
and hamsters as big as bears.
I am from Skytop,
and P.S. 75.
I am from two languages,
stuffy, un-airconditioned classrooms
and hanging upside down on the playground.
I am from "No tag backs!"
and "Eenie, meenie, minee, mo!"
I am from Sunday School and First Communion,
baptisms and Confirmation.
I am from Santa,
the Easter Bunny,
and their friend, the Tooth Fairy, too.
I am from struggles for family,
poverty and grief.
I am from the middle child
and the almost-baby.
I am from Greencard photos
and cross-country moves.
I am from the Aggies, class of 1990-
to the next generation,
and our memories of the deep Yosemite Valley
and the rushing cool of Lake Tahoe.
I am from countless cousins,
uncles and aunts,
and from suffocating under dozens of blankets
in the warm, Mexican air,
only to please my always-worried grandmother, "Ay, Dios mío"
who's genes got passed on to her son, "No running with trumpets!"
I am from squishy, slimy, unidentified meat
and warm buttered pasta.
I am from the 12th floor of an apartment building - not my own,
surrounded by mouthwatering smells of Peter's new creation
and the clank of old plates on a small wooden table.
I am from take-out, pick-up, and delivery,
as well as long streaks of home cooked meals that really deserved an applause.
I am from a brother
in the black and white photo on my father's nightstand.
I am from an uncle on his wedding day,
a windy hill,
a stuffy church.
I am from the warm comfort of my bed,
listening to gears being fixed in the next room,
the soft rhythm of Stevie Wonder spilling out under the door.
I am from "Peanut" and "Jubee"
and the songs that rocked me to sleep.