I'm from Wrenshall and more

As gradeschoolers in Wrenshall made their way back to the classroom this week, the learning theme that my mom came up with is “My Neighborhood.” Our kids created a map of their little slice of the county and searched for tracks from critter neighbors in the snow.

Our map had the Brickyard restaurant on it and we were thrilled to see it open again after the state eased some pandemic safety measures. We eagerly ordered takeout there the last two Fridays and, after cooking all our family’s meals at home the last three months, I have never tasted a burger quite so delicious. I’m going to time our next takeout order with a family trip to the outdoor skating rink in town – located behind the post office and bus garage.

The Wrenshall development corporation held its annual meeting at the Brickyard this month. In attendance were Dale Wolf, Mark Thell, Byron Johnson, and Janaki Fisher-Merritt. Wrenshall city council member Melvin Martindale gave a report on the latest from the city. The big expense for the past year was the overhaul of Goad Road. Next on the list for attention is Pioneer Drive.

There is consensus in keeping the popular community nights and activities like the October scarecrow display. Next on the planning horizon is new signage for the Alex Laveau bike trail and the possible creation of a trailhead along with a rethinking of the entire park.

The theme of “neighborhood” got me thinking of the poem by George Ella Lyon entitled “Where I’m From.” Written in 1993, the poem has been used by educators to showcase the power of poetry. It even spawned a project in 2018 to collect stories from around the world of “Where I Am From.” Find out more at iamfromproject.com.

In the teaching materials Lyons reminds people that we are who we are from experiences, not just locations.

For those who venture to Duluth on occasion, the Food Farm is headed to the parking lot of Wussow’s Café in West Duluth 4-6 p.m. on Feb. 3 for our seventh annual Rutabaga Giveaway. Challenging the notion that you couldn’t pay people to take, let alone cook, a rutabaga, we’ll have a booth set up outside to hand out the vegetable, chat about organic vegetable farming and tell folks where we’re from: Wrenshall.

Where I’m From

By George Ella Lyon

I am from clothespins,

from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.

I am from the dirt under the back porch.

(Black, glistening, it tasted like beets.)

I am from the forsythia bush,

the Dutch elm whose long gone limbs I rememberbas if they were my own.

I am from fudge and eyeglasses,

from Imogene and Alafair.

I’m from the know-it-alls

and the pass-it-ons,

from perk up and pipe down.

I’m from He restoreth my soul

with cottonball lamb

and ten verses I can say myself.

I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,

fried corn and strong coffee.

From the finger my grandfather lost

to the auger

the eye my father shut to keep his sight.

Under my bed was a dress box spilling old pictures.

a sift of lost faces to drift beneath my dreams.

I am from those moments –

snapped before I budded –

leaf-fall from the family tree.