Heritage

I Am From Canning Jars

Tipper I am From

I am from canning jars, bare feet, and Gibson Guitars

I am from steep ridges, dark hollers, and burned bridges

Dogwood winter in Appalachia

          I am from Irises, Peonies, and Day-lilies

       From fresh mown hay, Dogwoods, and red clay

I am from pulpwood cutters, truck drivers,
and homemade butter
I am from full hearts, empty pockets and hard work
I am from Jerry and Louzine who made me
From Wade and Marie who helped raise me
I am from Charles and Gazzie who loved me

I am from helping hands, Do unto others
and always be kind
I am from Goodnight sleep tight
and Things will turn out alright

Little White Church In the Valley

I am from Camping In Canaan’s Land,
The Old Rugged Cross and Just As I Am
I am from Ireland over the sea,
North Carolina and Tennessee
From cornbread and beans, biscuits and gravy

I am from the Marine, the Sweet Mother
and the Two Brothers

Tipper

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30 Comments

  • Reply
    Sandra Henderson
    October 12, 2021 at 12:54 pm

    Gosh, you enrich my life and make me think and reflect and be grateful! You have no idea how you and your daughters and family have made me be more grateful for who I am and what I do and where I want and need to go. I am so blessed! You are truly dong Gods work and now your daughters follow. It’s simply amazing! Thank you for all you do! I know it takes a lot of time….
    this is so beautiful! I see you’re encouraging others to write down their feelings of where they come from. I feel a strong connection to the past, even though parts of it I don’t directly know. When I went to England and Scotland (didn’t make it to Ireland) I felt it. I’ve alwahs felt it overflow to these mountains, in which my ancestors came. I know why they settled here… I see it and feel it.

    I start each day reading your words and seeing your photos and hearing the music. It’s like a daily devotional to start my day. Thank you for that. Especially, now in these crazy times we are living. It gives me peace .

  • Reply
    steve a in florence ky
    March 13, 2010 at 8:50 pm

    I couldn’t do mine justice compared to yours. Great Stuff.

  • Reply
    Mary
    June 2, 2008 at 11:23 pm

    I enjoyed your poem. I have also posted one. Please drop by when you have a moment. We are from some of the same places.
    Blessings,
    Mary

  • Reply
    Janera
    May 29, 2008 at 11:05 pm

    I love your poem! I’m going right over to give it a try.

  • Reply
    Dina in Jerusalem
    May 29, 2008 at 8:40 am

    What an opener for my first visit here. Very very moving!

  • Reply
    Farm Chick Paula
    May 28, 2008 at 12:58 am

    Beautiful words, Tipper.
    Sounds like where I’m from too.

  • Reply
    Leslie
    May 27, 2008 at 9:42 pm

    I may have said this previously. If so, it is worth repeating. There is just something about being raised in the south. Thanks for reminding how blessed I am to have been raised in the south.

  • Reply
    renaedujour
    May 27, 2008 at 8:21 pm

    Hi Tipper,
    I had to give it a shot. It’s no where near as beautiful as yours. 🙂
    I am from chainsaws, work boots and crooked houses.
    I am from the mountains, the trails and the pitch of an evergreen.
    I am from the huckleberries, the sticker bushes and the earth-worm rich soil.
    I am from picket lines, one-horse-towns and Love Boat Saturdays.
    I am from the crazy and the stubborn, from French-Canadian Trappers, orphan farmers and mill workers.
    I am from German men who worked with their hands and Swedish women who worked with their hearts.
    I am from potluck weddings and 23 cousins.
    From clean your plate and watch your Ps and Qs.
    I am from too many churches and not enough faith.
    I’m from logging trucks and beaches, salmon and biscuits and fresh-baked bread.
    From the shot-himself-with-a- gun and the old-maid school teacher, the nurse and the navy man.
    I am from the parents who raised me, the grandparents who molded me and the brothers who delight me.

  • Reply
    trisha too
    May 27, 2008 at 4:33 pm

    That was a beautiful poem.
    You always have something wonderful to read, look at, listen to . . .
    🙂
    Whatsoever things . . .

  • Reply
    Amy
    May 27, 2008 at 4:20 pm

    What a great post! I will have to think about posting one of my own. . . family memories are hard to return to for me – stuff I am still trying to work out for me and my family.

  • Reply
    sherry
    May 27, 2008 at 12:14 pm

    thanks for stopping by my blog this morning. I love your poem and the precious pictures. I am anxious to read your previous posts. Have a blessed day!

  • Reply
    threecollie
    May 27, 2008 at 9:19 am

    Beautiful!

  • Reply
    Ms.Hillbilly
    May 26, 2008 at 10:25 pm

    Love it! Funny how it so well describes two places that are 1,000 miles apart too! :).

  • Reply
    Joan
    May 26, 2008 at 9:52 pm

    Tipper: Love your poem, as I knew I would! And the photos are beautiful. Thanks for sharing another piece of you 🙂

  • Reply
    Miss Cindy
    May 26, 2008 at 8:43 pm

    Tipper, I’ve been trying to form my feelings into the words that would be a beautiful poem like yours but it just won’t seem to come together. But to honor your words I want to reply. These gentle mountains (WNC) are my soul. I am in them and they are in me. I am the colors I use to frame pictures and I am the clay I sculpt into heads that speak without saying a word. I am the family I always wanted–a son, a daughter and two beautiful granddaughters. I am the one who takes care of stray cats and feeds raccoons and bears. I am home made bread and jam, I am homemade pickles and sauerkraut. I am the old ways and the old values. I am independent. I am loyal and true. I love the earth from which we come and I love myself. I love to read and I love to think. I’m an idea person, ideas are my toys.
    I have friends, I am a friend. I am friends with myself.
    And I love you!

  • Reply
    renaedujour
    May 26, 2008 at 8:19 pm

    Those poems actually made me cry. I’ll try it. I don’t know if I’ll post it, but I’ll try it.

  • Reply
    gafarmwoman
    May 26, 2008 at 6:15 pm

    Hey. I am back to look at your poem again. I think I will try it soon and link it back here, if that is o.k?
    Have a good day.

  • Reply
    Jennifer in OR
    May 26, 2008 at 3:00 pm

    Beautiful, I love this. I’ll have to follow your link and see if I can write one of my own. Such wonderful images this evokes. Your photos are perfect. I’m from a little bit where you’re from!

  • Reply
    Jessica
    May 25, 2008 at 11:34 pm

    you are so freekin’ cool. Now go write a poem about that!:-)

  • Reply
    Paula
    May 25, 2008 at 11:25 pm

    I absolutely love this! Perfect pictures to go along with where you’re from!

  • Reply
    City Mouse/Country House
    May 25, 2008 at 10:09 pm

    This is awesome! I love your poem! I’m totally going to do one.

  • Reply
    Mary Anne Drury
    May 25, 2008 at 4:18 pm

    Tipper ! What a great post!! Loved it !!!(I’ll have to give it a try)

  • Reply
    noble pig
    May 25, 2008 at 3:38 pm

    That is absolutely adorable. I love it.

  • Reply
    gafarmwoman
    May 25, 2008 at 2:12 pm

    Hey Tipper,
    That was so good. I really enjoy visiting your site. I tried to watch the videos but I have dial-up and it just wouldn’t load. I did see a little of the last one and wished I could watched more.
    Have a good day!

  • Reply
    cathy
    May 25, 2008 at 1:15 pm

    Lovely.
    Have a blessed day~

  • Reply
    Beckynsc
    May 25, 2008 at 12:11 pm

    Great post Tipper!

  • Reply
    Stephanie
    May 25, 2008 at 10:45 am

    Love this. Especially the pictures!

  • Reply
    Carolyn
    May 24, 2008 at 11:19 pm

    I am from the Blue Ridge Mountains. The pioneer bred grandchild of a Scotsman and a Creek Indian maid, and Pennsylvania Dutch heritage.
    I am from strong housewives who made cinnamon rolls and stick to your ribs bean soup. Of men who raised hogs and worked with glass.
    I am from never having much, never going without, and never wanting more.
    I am from seven children who were considered miracles.
    Born from the womb of an angel who suffered from a rheumatic heart.
    Taught to be good people by parents who cared.
    I am from a time of open doors, open windows and open hearts.
    From trust and honor and love of nature.
    I am from a God who cares about who and what I will become. In a country where I can be the free spirit I was always meant to be.
    Tipper,
    Don’t know if that qualifies as a poem type, but it’s who I am. xxoo

  • Reply
    Carolyn
    May 24, 2008 at 11:15 pm

    I am from the Blue Ridge Mountains. The pioneer bred grandchild of a Scotsman and a Creek Indian maid, and Pennsylvania Dutch heritage.
    I am from strong housewives who made cinnamon rolls and stick to your ribs bean soup. Of men who raised hogs and worked with glass.
    I am from never having much, never going without, and never wanting more.
    I am from seven children who were considered miracles.
    Born from the womb of an angel who suffered from a rheumatic heart.
    Taught to be good people by parents who cared.
    I am from a time of open doors, open windows and open hearts.
    From trust and honor and love of nature.
    I am from a God who cares about who and what I will become. In a country where I can be the free spirit I was always meant to be.
    Tipper,
    Don’t know if that qualifies as a poem type, but it’s who I am. xxoo

  • Reply
    susan
    May 24, 2008 at 9:42 pm

    wow! that is awesome! i am at a loss for words….

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