Origins, beyond our own beyond...

 Loving that a) we still celebrate, b) we have archives to honor and re-delve, c) assignments at school are still pristine and not jaded from politicized 'no child left behind', 'common core', and other such 'backward' design (the origins of THAT concept, it should be said, is not so un-benign...) Here is Emma's 5th-grade poem about 'where she is from':

I am from a roll of film that rolls onto a new story.

I am from a small town with a forest hugging all around.

I am from a family of many different languages,

the heads of strawberry blonde.

I am from the sound of my dog pleading for a walk.

I am from a taste of zmrzlina, preferably stracciatella.

I am the smell of the past, a cottage home well before Božena

(who lived before our babička).

I am from a room where the morning sun tickles me awake.

I am from the books covered in dust that want to be read.

I am from a messy basement below my feet ,which dance

upon the living room rug.

I am from bedtime stories and lullabies from dad and mom

and hours of fun with Joe and Ben.

     from all of these, Amen.