This I Believe

Maureen - Louisville, Kentucky
Entered on June 29, 2007
Age Group: 50 - 65
  • Podcasts

    Sign up for our free, weekly podcast of featured essays. You can download recent episodes individually, or subscribe to automatically receive each podcast. Learn more.

  • FAQ

    Frequently asked questions about the This I Believe project, educational opportunities and more...

  • Top Essays USB Drive

    This USB drive contains 100 of the top This I Believe audio broadcasts of the last ten years, plus some favorites from Edward R. Murrow's radio series of the 1950s. It's perfect for personal or classroom use! Click here to learn more.

This I Believe

I believe in blue jeans. I believe in brown shoes.

I believe you can stand up to people who think they’re bigger than you.

I believe in Gore-Tex.

I love rain.

Three summers ago we hiked the Highline Trail.

I believe now I could cross that snowfield you had to help me across.

I believe in trees and a hawk on a light pole on I-64.

And the magnolia blooms your mother arranged in a silver bowl.

I also like to watch nuthatches.

I believe in poetry.

And public education.

I know we need to pay teachers more than we do.

Once I saw a crow devouring either a big worm or a little snake.

Once a man apologized to you when he’d offended me.

I wish I’d learned trigonometry and the laws of thermodynamics.

I’m sorry I still want to be recognized in a crowd.

I believe in doctors who research diabetes and heart disease.

And doctors who are on-call four nights a week.

In the middle of the night there were no cars in the parking lot.

We waited in the waiting room a long time.

I believe more often than not I should be quiet.

I believe it is probably harder for me than it is for you.

Amelia Earhart believed marriage could be an attractive cage.

I believe marriage has an element of blank.

And pain?

I saw your mother’s face. Then yours.

Sometimes I want to believe in God.

And to follow the poet’s precept to write what you desire.

I know some keep the Sabbath staying at home.

I saw my mother pin sheets on the clothesline to dry.

I saw her iron my father’s work shirts for years.

I believe in kindness, though I could be kinder.

And that there are people I should have been kinder to when they were alive.

I was probably saying something about punctuation when the towers collasped.

I remember saying September 12th, Canada may seem like an answer.

For a while we discussed the Vietnam War.

I believe the war on terror will not end in my lifetime.

Nor will grace: our son, a kayak on the Snake River, a yellow-faced guitar by the door in his room.