Sturdy Dutch stock,

Grandma Dykstra

Grandma and brother

Mother with her sisters. She’s lower left.

Dad and cousins, his mother, her sister Susie and my oldest sister, Betty Jo. This must have been taken around 1940

Dad duded up

1949

Mother

Family Christmas–Grandma, Dad and me.

Thanks, Mom, for all of those early rhyming sessions

Mom and Dad, 1970

Mom and Dad in Australia. He finally got to travel–to come visit me.

With Mom and sisters, at my wedding.

Family Links

These are the gifts I was given at birth:
my father’s high cheekbones, my auntie’s wide girth.
Legs that are solid and a brain that is sound,
a head that’s too big and a stomach too round.

From my mother, a funny bone and a fine wit
in sharing my life by writing of it.
A talent for rhyme and a need to be telling
stories original, tight and compelling.

A thirst for travel, squelched in my dad,
allowed me adventures he rarely had.
A love of babies and a wicked humor
that didn’t go wasted in this baby boomer.

I’m forever grateful that I came to be,
thanks to those genes that created me.
With both foibles and talents, I’m not perfect for sure,
but all that I am, I have come to endure.

I’ve lived to an age where I appreciate
all of the gifts that I’ve come to relate.
 Here I am, the next link in the family queue,
and what they shared with me, I now share with you.

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem in which you muse on the gifts you received at birth.”