I am from the remote countryside, from John Deere and Mossy Oak.
I am from the willow tree sweeping in the wind, golden rod in the prairie and the green grass growing in the summer sun.
I’m from the farmhouse with creaking floorboards, and ponds of frogs.

I am from Living Life by the Scout Oath and Law and punctuality, from Paul and Marybeth, Hoefle, and Wredling.
I am from getting up before sunrise to hunt,  picking rocks from the ground warmed by the sun’s summer rays, and clearing Buck Thorn and Choke Cherry trees for a new stand.   
From “Can I use your college money?” and “If I’m one minute late, I’m not coming and something bad has happened.”

I am from church on Sunday mornings and praying before we eat, from steak on the grill and Mom’s fresh bakery.
I am from Sullivan, Wisconsin, Illinois, and Western Europe.
I am from fishing in the backwoods of Canada, camping in mossy and buck thorn covered woods of Wisconsin and hunting the swampy terrain of the farm.

I am from cork boards of hunting and fishing memories and pictures hung by magnets on the fridge.
I am from cracking my head open chasing my brother, losing my boot after a battle with thick, quicksand-like muck, and my brother and me harvesting trophy-level bucks minutes apart.
I am from the vast and open terrain of the country, the rural roots and the willow tree sweeping in the wind, golden rod in the prairie and the green grass growing in the summer sun.