I travel a lot.
It’s almost inevitable when I’m somewhere, in some state, at some new place that I get asked, “Where do you come from?”
I smile and tell them, “New York.”
Their response is usually, “Yeah, I can tell by your accent.”
I laugh, and say in an fake exaggerated Sopranos-Italian accent, “Fuhgetaboutit.”
I never think about where I come from until I am reminded when I am somewhere different than where I’m from.
Where you come from, shows.
It shows from the inside out.
It shows from how you were raised, and how you think, how you treat others.
It shows in the way you talk.
Sometimes when I am asked, I give another answer.
I tell them that I’m proud I come from a place that I love. Where I am surrounded by family, friends, and apple orchards as far as the eyes can see. That I come from a small town that is full of love, open arms, and hometown pride.
That I come from a family who loves me in a little town called Milton, 60 miles north of the hubbub of New York City.
Does it matter where you come from?
To some, I would say yes. It matters because it permeates all that’s all that’s around you. It leaves a legacy, a tradition, a culture…good or bad.
In this day and age with the election, race, and gender fighting, I ask you…
Do you come from a place of understanding or judgment?
Do you come from a place of forgiveness or contempt?
Do you come from a place that’s welcoming or closed minded?
Do you come from a place of happiness or anger?
Joy? Peace? Love?
Because where you come from is what you take with you wherever you go. It is written all over your face, in your words, in your actions. You can never hide where you come from.
You can tell me to “Fuhgetaboutit” or you can tell me, where do you come from?
Either way, it shows.
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