See here for all the links to Floyd's posts and others, plus the template.
I am from heavy stainless teaspoons, from Haviland china teacups and layers of worn Persian rugs.
I am from the tiny upstairs duplex full of love, warmth and later sadness, and from the big house on the lake, in hardwood forests and rolling hills, where down the road even now, my father (the only one that matters) lives.
I am from snapdragons and pansys in my grandmother's gardens, from forest ferns and bleeding hearts in the shade under the hardwood canopy and from the wind whipped waves of summer boaters; from autumn leaves of many colors reflected in the morning still waters and from hushed snow and ice covered winter water and ground; from live-forever stolen from Holiday Park and transplanted many times.
I am from loud dinner table discussions where shouting adults dissolved into laughter then more shouting, from Raymond and Emily whose table it was and from Emily Ann and an unremembered father replaced in full by Larry, who loves me still.
I am from mavericks marching to their own drummer and conformers afraid to appear different,
From "you are what you think", "you can, if you think you can", and also from "what would other people think?"
I am from nature conscious, Lutheran Episcopalian Methodist Presbyterian's turned Unitarian Universalist questioners, moving on with the business of living, choosing philosophy without structured doctrine.
I'm from the Army's Camp Atterbury in late morning on a Sunday in autumn, from Thursday night casseroles made from leftovers, from fresh tomatoes in summer's garden lovingly tended and lest I romanticize too much, I am from the expensive scotch and bourbon and other top shelf spirits lavishly purchased in quantity during tight times;
From German brothers who came to the untamed British colony and Revolutionary fighters for liberty from King, from the proud lineage of Lenape Captain/Chief Pipe and from people who kept secrets afraid of second class citizenship; from an Englishman who became the first judge in a once rough southwestern town, and from a long line of indigenous, immigrant, individualist, freedom seeking, wanderers...
I am from a few hastily snatched mementos before the estate dealer took the rest, from cards and letters haphazardly chosen saved in a moved many times cedar box, from faded handwritten documents and all the tiny clues for the treasure hunt of connections, to ancestors past and to my place in the whole that leads through me and flows onward to my son.
edit 1:31PM still tweaking bits...
edit 2:24PM, 12nov05 still polishing...