Where I'm From by, David Weinman	Photo's by David Weinman
I am from a "very very special," fans blowing, dogs barking, music filled, open-ended thing called life.
Warm sugar covered blueberry muffins, sourdough pancakes, and crispy koogle keep me coming back for more.
I am from that triangle rock on Spencer's Butte gazing at the city I call home. I am from the cherry tree enclosed playground yard, where my troubles drift away to sounds of guitar chorus's.
"Well isn't that special," I can hear Uncle Sheldon explain. With endless Raman, macaroni & cheese, and with rose cut radishes bringing back new meaning to what I call delicious.
I am from that large glass of ice-cold pink lemonade, barbeque chicken, and fruit salad dinner on that warm summer day.
Where cooks never clean, bread never burns, but dust remains in corners of our minds.
I am from the kneading of dough that becomes Challah on that long waited for Friday night. I can still see the big fires in the backyard, and road less traveled.
Someday I will get there.
That is where I am from
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