My Roots

My roots are El Dorado Hills,
reading in a tree,
swimming at the neighborhood pool,
swim team,
listening for the whistle to come home for dinner,
cute teachers working as lifeguards during the summer,
skiing with Diane and Barbara,
teaching swimming lessons,
being a camp counselor,
working the paddle boat rental window,
Mojave High School, Jordan High School, Wilson High School (oh, my),
Baskin Robbins,
LBCC and TNT sorority,
walks on the beach,
working at Macy’s during Christmas rush and spending everything I earned there.

My roots are oyster stew,
Chocolate turkeys from Sees,
San Francisco bread,
chicken noodle soup,
peanut butter sandwiches,
mac ‘n cheese,
guacamole,
making ravioli from scratch (once),
burgers every Saturday (what’s for dinner tonight, Mom? Mom: what night is it?),
Swanson TV dinners when the folks went out,
Christmas cookies,
Mexican wedding ring cookies,
and fudge.

My roots are don’t leave without your orange stick (when we lived in the desert),
write to your mother if you get married,
that’s a lot of girl there,
Laugh-In’s on,
one giant step for man – one giant step for mankind,
where were you when Kennedy was shot,
did you write your thank you notes.

My roots are Grandad and Jo, Rose, Grandma Del,
Grandma and Grandpa,
Aunt Dorie and Uncle Joe, Tom and Chuck,
Mom and Dad, Karen and Susan
and later, Steve, Joseph and Stephanie.
Then, Keith, Vanessa, Natalie and Whitney.
Dan, Carrie and Ashley.
Peggy, Dianna, Tiffany, Connie and George.
Best friends Barbara, Nancy and Scott, Marti, Joyce and Bill,
and, the man responsible for it all . . . God.

It is a wonderful life.