I love the variety of my life. It adds to my storytelling daily, because each experience has in it the kernel of a possible story, or an insight to a story I already tell. This weekend is a good example of that.
It started Friday evening on the way home. Soemtimes I'm fortunate enough to be able to carpool with my friend Suzy, also a librarian (actually, the Children's Consultant at the WV Library Commission www.librarycommission.lib.wv.us ). We met my husband in Ripley, enjoyed dinner at the good Mexican restaurant Cozumel, and then went on to a play at the Alpine Theatre (http://www.alpinewv.com/index.html) called The Diary of Adam and Eve (free download of excerpts from the play at http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/142) by Mark Twain. The play was hilarious, presented by Theatre West Virginia (http://theatrewestvirginia.com/). They had done a workshop earlier in the day for high school students, so our community benefited in several ways from their visit.
Saturday morning we got up early, went into town to our favorite breakfast restaurant, the Downtowner, for a good country breakfast. We had to skip our usual visit to Rachel's Relics Antique store, and to Court Street Connection, because I wanted to meet with Ross Ballard, who is recording West Virginia titles as audiobooks with his company MountainWhispers (http://www.mountainwhispers.com/). He was signing and selling his latest offering, Crum by Lee Maynard (www.wvwc.edu/lib/wv_authors/authors/a_maynard.htm ), at Frog Creek Books (http://www.frogcreekbookswv.com/) at the Charleston Farmers Market. We had a great visit with Ross and I will be brainstorming with him about ways that those with WV recordings might work with him, or collaborate, or??? who knows? Maybe nothing will come of it, or maybe we'll end up with some great ideas for promoting West Virginia's oral traditions.
Meanwhile I had a great opportunity to talk with Mike of Frog Creek Books, and he is willing to try two of my CDs and two copies of The Zinnia Tales
(http://mountaingirlpress.com/booksandauthors.html) in his shop. If they sell, he'd take more. So I'm hopeful that this too will lead to other things.
We left there for Pikeville, Kentucky, to visit my husband's sister. The mountains were soft gray and looming in the pre-rain air, and ice clung in frozen waterfalls to the cliffs along the road. There are places I want to visit sometime along that road--the community of Big Ugly, the Hatfield-McCoy Trail, The Coal House in Williamson, and Olcott, the place my husband was born. We've been there a few times, but I want some photos fo the places he remembers. Many of them are gone of course--the company store, the coal tipple, the school, the house he grew up in--and he has no family left there. But there may be some remnants we can capture on film of the life of a kid growing up in coal country, surrounded by family and friends, the danger and uncertainty of the mines.
Today we're home and doing all the things required when you live in the country and heat with wood--getting in wood, cleaning out ashes, sweeping up debris from firewood, and catching up laundry, planning the brush-clearing on the hillside, checking the lettuce bed to see if anything is sprouting yet (only been planted three days but you never know), enjoying the fireplace even though it's a warm 54 degrees and sunny outside.
And I'm mulling over yesterday, thinking about the places we saw, wondering how to help my sister-in-law as she grieves over the death of her oldest son, trying to see what life was like for Larry and Mary as blond-headed twins in a dusty coal-mining community, seeking still to understand the hearts of those people who continue to delve for coal beneath those brooding hills. From all this may come a story. Or maybe just the deepening of a story. Or nothing more than a memory of a day of time well-spent in a place and with the people I love.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Rendering Out: A Poem
A prompt on a writing roundtable led me to write this. A comment by a friend back in 1977 or 1978 was the basis of the poem.
Rendering
The Internet’s buzzing with something brand new
For people who can’t fit into size 22
All over the country it’s the current new rage
For the rotund and chunky, no matter their age
The ones who find they have eaten too well
And strain to put on their sweats (XXL)
Those who as children cleaned up their plate
And find themselves now just a tad overweight
The solution is surprisingly, inexpensively simple
It seems we can lose those derriere dimples
No tablets or powders, drinks or pink pills
No requirement to even power up your will
Just stand very close to the cast iron wood stove
With your back to the fire instead of your toes
You’ll know it’s working when you feel the glow
Of lard warming up and starting to flow
Your extra fat layers will soak up the heat
Melt into liquid and pool at your feet
Your fanny and thighs will be trim as can be
And you’ll want to shout, “Just look at me!”
Stove sales are reaching a century high
As everywhere fat people rush out to buy
It’s the newest thing out in diets these days
Advertisers just call it “the rendering craze.”
Susanna Holstein c2007
Rendering
The Internet’s buzzing with something brand new
For people who can’t fit into size 22
All over the country it’s the current new rage
For the rotund and chunky, no matter their age
The ones who find they have eaten too well
And strain to put on their sweats (XXL)
Those who as children cleaned up their plate
And find themselves now just a tad overweight
The solution is surprisingly, inexpensively simple
It seems we can lose those derriere dimples
No tablets or powders, drinks or pink pills
No requirement to even power up your will
Just stand very close to the cast iron wood stove
With your back to the fire instead of your toes
You’ll know it’s working when you feel the glow
Of lard warming up and starting to flow
Your extra fat layers will soak up the heat
Melt into liquid and pool at your feet
Your fanny and thighs will be trim as can be
And you’ll want to shout, “Just look at me!”
Stove sales are reaching a century high
As everywhere fat people rush out to buy
It’s the newest thing out in diets these days
Advertisers just call it “the rendering craze.”
Susanna Holstein c2007
The Ice Goes Out
It's been a long time since we've had ice like this. I'm talking about big chunks, huge blocks of ice that smash together and pile up on the edges of creeks and rivers, jam up in the middle of lakes. When I first moved to West Virginia and we had no electricity, we considered building an ice house. I was enchanted with the idea of blocks of ice covered in sawdust in a dark little building, sweating through the early summer heat.
I remembered when as a child I would go with my father to Manassas Ice and Fuel Company to buy ice blocks for the Fourth of July. Those massive blocks were surreal in July, and I loved pressing my face to them to see a distorted view of the world. Later, we'd take an ice pick and break off pieces to put around the melons and soft drinks in large galvanized tubs, preparing for the celebration of our annual "Kids Day" picnic in the back yard.
We never built that ice house, and I've always been a little sorry about that. In retrospect, of course it was a good thing because the hard winters left in the mid-1980's in this area. Some winters we've had no ice at all, which left us feeling oddly bereft. Winter means cold, and snow, and ice. When those things don't happen, is it really winter?
So this year it's been reassuring to see the big, dirty blocks resting at odd angles in the mud and water of the thaw. Al Gore is right, of course, and most of us have been well aware of it at least anecdotally as we observed the loss of commonplace signs of the passing seasons. But this February restored winter in all its frigid beauty, and I have enjoyed its present and its past memories.
I remembered when as a child I would go with my father to Manassas Ice and Fuel Company to buy ice blocks for the Fourth of July. Those massive blocks were surreal in July, and I loved pressing my face to them to see a distorted view of the world. Later, we'd take an ice pick and break off pieces to put around the melons and soft drinks in large galvanized tubs, preparing for the celebration of our annual "Kids Day" picnic in the back yard.
We never built that ice house, and I've always been a little sorry about that. In retrospect, of course it was a good thing because the hard winters left in the mid-1980's in this area. Some winters we've had no ice at all, which left us feeling oddly bereft. Winter means cold, and snow, and ice. When those things don't happen, is it really winter?
So this year it's been reassuring to see the big, dirty blocks resting at odd angles in the mud and water of the thaw. Al Gore is right, of course, and most of us have been well aware of it at least anecdotally as we observed the loss of commonplace signs of the passing seasons. But this February restored winter in all its frigid beauty, and I have enjoyed its present and its past memories.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Teachers, Appalachian culture, and storytelling--what do they have in common?
Sometimes a gig is so good it's difficut to write about--I just want to savor the memory, go back over what made it a memorable experience. Last Saturday was like that. The strangest part was that it was a freebie--no payment for this one.
A friend's brother asked me to do two presentations for a teachers conference on Appalachian culture. I said sure--it's a slow time of year for me for storytelling and it was my favorite topic. I prepared some handouts, sent them out for printing and reviewed my notes.
The night before the conference the weatherman began warning of snow. Great. I live 50 miles from the conference site, not a big deal since I drive to that city every day, but doing a freebie and driving in the snow to do it, early on a Saturday morning? Still, I had promised, so I got the car packed, set the alarm and was ready to go in the morning--and of course, there was no snow after all.
The teachers were astounding-receptive, participatory, understanding what I was saying, enjoying the stories and adding perceptive comments to the discussion. As usual, I learned from the experience too, because of the insights they offered.
I sold out every book and CD I brought with me, made some excellent contacts for possible performances at schools, and got back in my car filled with energy and the knowledge that it was good, that I had something to offer them, and they gave back to me with their enthusiasm and interest.
A completely good day.
A friend's brother asked me to do two presentations for a teachers conference on Appalachian culture. I said sure--it's a slow time of year for me for storytelling and it was my favorite topic. I prepared some handouts, sent them out for printing and reviewed my notes.
The night before the conference the weatherman began warning of snow. Great. I live 50 miles from the conference site, not a big deal since I drive to that city every day, but doing a freebie and driving in the snow to do it, early on a Saturday morning? Still, I had promised, so I got the car packed, set the alarm and was ready to go in the morning--and of course, there was no snow after all.
The teachers were astounding-receptive, participatory, understanding what I was saying, enjoying the stories and adding perceptive comments to the discussion. As usual, I learned from the experience too, because of the insights they offered.
I sold out every book and CD I brought with me, made some excellent contacts for possible performances at schools, and got back in my car filled with energy and the knowledge that it was good, that I had something to offer them, and they gave back to me with their enthusiasm and interest.
A completely good day.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Is It Time to Plant Yet?
It's suddenly feeling like Spring. After a very cold weekend with lots of snow and single-digit temperatures, the weather has taken a turn for the better. Today it's rainy and cloudy and my husband is supposed to burn off the lettuce bed. He digs up the soil, piles on brush and wood about four feet deep and lets it burn down to ash. After a day to cool down a bit, it's ready to plant.
We usually put in lettuce (Black-Seeded Simpson or Salad Bowl or Ruby Sails) and radishes (always Cherry Belles) and if we can find them this early, onion sets. Then he puts a frame around the bed and covers it with chicken wire and clear plastic sheeting--the chicken wire holds the plastic sheeting off the seedlings. In about a month, we might have a few radishes and the lettuce will be ready in 6-8 weeks.
I love this early planting. I feel like we've got a jump on the season, and we can mix the early wild greens in with the early salad. Even if it snows again, the little green seedlings are a sign that Spring is certainly on the way.
Lettuce pray
that Spring is on the way!
We usually put in lettuce (Black-Seeded Simpson or Salad Bowl or Ruby Sails) and radishes (always Cherry Belles) and if we can find them this early, onion sets. Then he puts a frame around the bed and covers it with chicken wire and clear plastic sheeting--the chicken wire holds the plastic sheeting off the seedlings. In about a month, we might have a few radishes and the lettuce will be ready in 6-8 weeks.
I love this early planting. I feel like we've got a jump on the season, and we can mix the early wild greens in with the early salad. Even if it snows again, the little green seedlings are a sign that Spring is certainly on the way.
Lettuce pray
that Spring is on the way!
West Virginia Book Festival
It's only February and already the West Virginia Book Festival planning is well underway for the event this October (13-14, Charleston Civic Center, Charleston, WV). I am planning the storytelling track of the festival again this year, and it's been both fun and a challenge to line up programs.
For information about the festival go to www.wvhumanities.org/bookfest/bookfest2.htm
For information about the festival go to www.wvhumanities.org/bookfest/bookfest2.htm
Monday, February 19, 2007
Making Apple Butter and Memories
Yesterday was not ideal weather for making apple butter. We do it the old-time way, over an open fire in a large copper kettle. Snow and wind and temperatures that hovered around 20 degrees were not good conditions for spending 4 or 5 hours outside trying to keep a fire going, and stirring stirring and stirring the kettle.
The plan was to do this when all the sons and their children could participate. Derek suggested making the apple sauce in the fall after we finished cider-making. We could can the applesauce and then make it into apple butter when everyone got their schedules aligned for a weekend stir-off. So that's what we did--we spent a day making over 70 quarts of sauce, canning it and putting it in the old stone cellar to hold for when the "right" day was arranged.
That was the sticking point. With shift work, National Guard duty, storytelling performances, sick children and all the other things that can and do happen in family schedules, we could never get a clear weekend for the apple butter cooking. Finally, we were down to the last jar in the cellar, and it became an emergency (for apple butter lovers, the store variety is no substitute).
So we picked a day that Derek and I could do it, and forged ahead. The weather sounded bad, but we figured that maybe the weather man got it wrong again. We rounded up jars (70 pints worth), sugar (30 pounds), cinnamon oil (four tiny bottles), jar lids and rings. We sterilized all the jars, got out the apple sauce (70 quarts) and cleaned up the kettle. Larry got out the stand for the kettle and we were ready to go.
The weather got worse--winds over 20 mph, temps 20 or lower, and snow falling like down from a goose. But we persisted; the fire caught, we sheltered it with tin roofing and a piece of metal for a "damper" at the back, poured the sauce from the jars, and started stirring.
It takes time to make apple butter, and there's no rushing the process. It has to cook to a rolling boil before the sugar is added (about 2 hours for my 15-gallon kettle). After the sugar is added, the sauce must cook until it reaches the right consistency; I judge this the way my neighbor Belva taught me--take out a small spoonful and put it on a plate to cool. If it stands up in a nice pile with no liquid running off, it's ready. That usually takes another 2 hours of cooking after adding the sugar. The fire has to be kept hot enough to keep the butter at a rolling boil. Once the butter has reached the right consistency, the kettle is removed from the fire (or the fire removed from the kettle) and we add the cinnamon oil (has to be the oil to be strong enough). To get the right amount of cinnamon oil, the apple butter needs to be tasted until it tastes like we added a little too much. The cinnamon oil loses some potency over time, so it needs to be fairly strong when the butter is jarred up.
Because of the cold and the wind, we filled the jars in the house, afraid they would crack in the cold outside. We dipped the apple butter into buckets and carried it to the kitchen. I ladled, Derek capped, and Larry brought the kettle in to clean it in the bathtub. Usually we clean it outdoors, using only water, as soon as we finish jarring up the butter. But we did it inside and that worked just as well.
We finished up with 33.5 quarts of apple butter that is probably the best we've ever made--thick, strong and redolent with cinnamon. It was worth every minute of stirring and cold. I took pictures I will post here as soon as I can can get camera and computer together.
Derek's kids were great--they played, worked, played, and worked some more. They stayed outside well past the rest of us, building up the fire to keep warm as they "rode trees," rolled in the snow, slid on ice, looked at snowflakes through a magnifying glass and kept the dogs busy and happy. We made biscuits so we could sample the apple butter while it was still warm.
Had we not had this project planned we would probably have been inside by the fireplace, thinking that it was a great day to not have to be outdoors. Instead we enjoyed what might be the last snow of the winter, got our apple butter made, and had a day that we will remember for a long, long time.
It was, in the end, an ideal day for making apple butter.
The plan was to do this when all the sons and their children could participate. Derek suggested making the apple sauce in the fall after we finished cider-making. We could can the applesauce and then make it into apple butter when everyone got their schedules aligned for a weekend stir-off. So that's what we did--we spent a day making over 70 quarts of sauce, canning it and putting it in the old stone cellar to hold for when the "right" day was arranged.
That was the sticking point. With shift work, National Guard duty, storytelling performances, sick children and all the other things that can and do happen in family schedules, we could never get a clear weekend for the apple butter cooking. Finally, we were down to the last jar in the cellar, and it became an emergency (for apple butter lovers, the store variety is no substitute).
So we picked a day that Derek and I could do it, and forged ahead. The weather sounded bad, but we figured that maybe the weather man got it wrong again. We rounded up jars (70 pints worth), sugar (30 pounds), cinnamon oil (four tiny bottles), jar lids and rings. We sterilized all the jars, got out the apple sauce (70 quarts) and cleaned up the kettle. Larry got out the stand for the kettle and we were ready to go.
The weather got worse--winds over 20 mph, temps 20 or lower, and snow falling like down from a goose. But we persisted; the fire caught, we sheltered it with tin roofing and a piece of metal for a "damper" at the back, poured the sauce from the jars, and started stirring.
It takes time to make apple butter, and there's no rushing the process. It has to cook to a rolling boil before the sugar is added (about 2 hours for my 15-gallon kettle). After the sugar is added, the sauce must cook until it reaches the right consistency; I judge this the way my neighbor Belva taught me--take out a small spoonful and put it on a plate to cool. If it stands up in a nice pile with no liquid running off, it's ready. That usually takes another 2 hours of cooking after adding the sugar. The fire has to be kept hot enough to keep the butter at a rolling boil. Once the butter has reached the right consistency, the kettle is removed from the fire (or the fire removed from the kettle) and we add the cinnamon oil (has to be the oil to be strong enough). To get the right amount of cinnamon oil, the apple butter needs to be tasted until it tastes like we added a little too much. The cinnamon oil loses some potency over time, so it needs to be fairly strong when the butter is jarred up.
Because of the cold and the wind, we filled the jars in the house, afraid they would crack in the cold outside. We dipped the apple butter into buckets and carried it to the kitchen. I ladled, Derek capped, and Larry brought the kettle in to clean it in the bathtub. Usually we clean it outdoors, using only water, as soon as we finish jarring up the butter. But we did it inside and that worked just as well.
We finished up with 33.5 quarts of apple butter that is probably the best we've ever made--thick, strong and redolent with cinnamon. It was worth every minute of stirring and cold. I took pictures I will post here as soon as I can can get camera and computer together.
Derek's kids were great--they played, worked, played, and worked some more. They stayed outside well past the rest of us, building up the fire to keep warm as they "rode trees," rolled in the snow, slid on ice, looked at snowflakes through a magnifying glass and kept the dogs busy and happy. We made biscuits so we could sample the apple butter while it was still warm.
Had we not had this project planned we would probably have been inside by the fireplace, thinking that it was a great day to not have to be outdoors. Instead we enjoyed what might be the last snow of the winter, got our apple butter made, and had a day that we will remember for a long, long time.
It was, in the end, an ideal day for making apple butter.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Cold weather and birds
13 degrees tonight, everything snow covered and icy, and the wind still. Winter is making itself at home, and even our fires can't keep it at bay. I sit in the rocker in front of the old stone fireplace, watch the flames and hear winter howling at the windows. A good night to be indoors.
This morning as I watched the birds at the feeder a flock of a dozen starlings suddenly flew in, scattering the smaller birds and raising a raucous racket. I was surprised, because we seldom see starlings up here.
A few minutes later, a red-tailed hawk swooped down, attacking one of the starlings. His arrival caused all the starlings to fly away with a great rush of wings, and the hawk chased after them, still intent on his victim. Whether he caught the starling I could not tell, but none of them returned and the snowbirds, titmice, cardinals, chickadees, nuthatches, blue jays, downy and red-bellied woodpeckers and wrens soon returned.
This morning as I watched the birds at the feeder a flock of a dozen starlings suddenly flew in, scattering the smaller birds and raising a raucous racket. I was surprised, because we seldom see starlings up here.
A few minutes later, a red-tailed hawk swooped down, attacking one of the starlings. His arrival caused all the starlings to fly away with a great rush of wings, and the hawk chased after them, still intent on his victim. Whether he caught the starling I could not tell, but none of them returned and the snowbirds, titmice, cardinals, chickadees, nuthatches, blue jays, downy and red-bellied woodpeckers and wrens soon returned.
Hog on Ice!
What a title! Ths one is a fun read--an examination of many of the odd sayings we use daily without thinking of their origins. The title refers to one of those sayings, and gives an in-depth examination of the author's efforts to find the source of the term. Did he find it? Not really, but his search went a long way back and found many possible explanations.
Other sayings in the book: feathering your nest, cock and bull, ringing the changes, lion's share, woolgathering, in the bag, bolt from the blue, sold down the river--and many, many more. First published in 1948 and re-issued in paperback in 1985, this book is fun to browse, and I was surprised at how many of the expressions I use regularly. So don't bark up the wrong tree or be caught holding the bag--this book is the real McCoy and definitely of the first water.
Hog on Ice and Other Curious Expressions by Charles Earle Funk, 1985, Harper & Row, NY.
Other sayings in the book: feathering your nest, cock and bull, ringing the changes, lion's share, woolgathering, in the bag, bolt from the blue, sold down the river--and many, many more. First published in 1948 and re-issued in paperback in 1985, this book is fun to browse, and I was surprised at how many of the expressions I use regularly. So don't bark up the wrong tree or be caught holding the bag--this book is the real McCoy and definitely of the first water.
Hog on Ice and Other Curious Expressions by Charles Earle Funk, 1985, Harper & Row, NY.
Truck!
It's back! After a week without the Chevy 4WD pickup, it's home again with slightly different look.
The drillers were trying to deal with the snow and ice on the ridge, and were spreading sand on the blind hill close to our driveway. As my husband came down that hill he could not see them or stop on the ice. His Chevy took out two Fords, but it took a hard lick that knocked out the grill, lights, bumper, hood and miscellaneous parts.
Thank goodness for the neighbor men who work at body shops! They gathered up parts and got the truck back on the road in time for the snows and ice this week. One of the many joys of country living--neighbors who know how to do things, and are willing to do them to help you. Yes, we paid them, but nothing like what it would have cost at a body shop. In Spring when the weather warms up a paint job will have the old truck looking like new.
The drillers? I have no idea what they did with their beat-up trucks. By rights, the accident should be charged to them since they had no flagger on the hill or signs to warn anyone the road was blocked. But that's for insurance companies to fight about. I baked cookies and took to them a few days later--no one should have to work outside when the temperature is below zero, and these guys are, after all, just working men trying to make a living. Just wish they were making it somewhere else.
The drillers were trying to deal with the snow and ice on the ridge, and were spreading sand on the blind hill close to our driveway. As my husband came down that hill he could not see them or stop on the ice. His Chevy took out two Fords, but it took a hard lick that knocked out the grill, lights, bumper, hood and miscellaneous parts.
Thank goodness for the neighbor men who work at body shops! They gathered up parts and got the truck back on the road in time for the snows and ice this week. One of the many joys of country living--neighbors who know how to do things, and are willing to do them to help you. Yes, we paid them, but nothing like what it would have cost at a body shop. In Spring when the weather warms up a paint job will have the old truck looking like new.
The drillers? I have no idea what they did with their beat-up trucks. By rights, the accident should be charged to them since they had no flagger on the hill or signs to warn anyone the road was blocked. But that's for insurance companies to fight about. I baked cookies and took to them a few days later--no one should have to work outside when the temperature is below zero, and these guys are, after all, just working men trying to make a living. Just wish they were making it somewhere else.
Change Comes to the Ridge
I've lived on this mountain for thirty years. In that time there have been changes, certainly. When we bought this land, there was no access except by tractor or, in the summer, by four-wheel drive. We spent a lot of time walking for the first few years. I remember a snowstorm with drifts over 10 feet deep that broke the axle in our 4WD truck. That winter, we walked a mile in, and the boys missed school for over a month. We survived quite well, the boys went back to school and found they were ahead of their classes because of the schoolwork we had done at home. In March, the state roads brought out a huge endloader and cleared the road so we could drive in once again. One of my vivid memories of that summer was leaving our non-electric home to walk a mile out to our truck so that we could go to town to watch the movie "The Wilderness Family." It struck me as we hiked home in the darkness with our four sons that our life was probably more difficult and more exciting that the movie.
In 1984, we got a telephone by paying $600 to have the line run in. By then I was working 50 miles from home and the phone was necessary. In 1989, we added electricity. At that time, we had a year-old baby (in addition to our 4 teenage sons) and my husband's elderly father, and I was a sophomore in college. Dealing with kerosene lamps and the other tasks associated with a non-electric home was too difficult. So we signed up, paying to have the line run over a mile to our house. In some ways the change was good (laundry by hand is not fun, and neither is a laundromat), in others it was hard to take. I mourned the quiet and the independence we enjoyed without power. We'd been set up pretty well with spring water, bottled gas for stove and hot water, and wood heat. We kept the spring and wood heat, gave up the gas and changed kerosene lamps for electric lights.
Years passed, the spring dried up and we drilled a 730-foot deep well. Until 1993, our nearest neighbor was a mile away. That changed when his children grew up and built homes on the hill, and civilization crept closer. They had children and petitioned for mail and bus service on our road, which by this time had been graveled and tamed into a mostly passable road. As the road improved, we saw more traffic. Gone were the days when the sound of an engine would send us all to the windows to see who it was. Now four-wheelers invaded the quiet, roaring across the ridge every weekend.
Still, our land protected us. With eighty acres around us, and no house within sight of ours, we were still pretty isolated. We let the trees grow along the road, and that and our quarter-mile driveway kept things quiet around our home.
This fall, another change came to our ridge. A gas company has bought up most of the mineral rights up here (except for those under our 50 acres) and planned to drill gas wells. Although I didn't like it, there was nothing I could do to prevent them from drilling on our 30-acre parcel. Since the first of the year, they've been moving closer and closer, and two weeks ago set their drilling rig up on our land.
I have to admit that I'm fascinated by the whole process. The drillers work all night, the rig roars, the lights shine, and the flags fly from the top of the 40-foot rig. It's very industrial and so foreign on this hill. They finished our well in 10 days and moved out the ridge to the next site.
Did they hit gas or oil? Who knows? Not us--they have not told us anything yet. Will we get anything from the well? Since we didn't own the mineral rights, we're not entitled to royalties. What we can get is free gas for our home, if we run the line a mere half-mile to the well. Of course, we'll have to change all our appliances too, and add ductwork if we want to replace our wood heat with a gas furnace. Is it worth it? Maybe, but I'm not convinced. The well adds value to our land of course, but since we don't plan to sell it that's a moot point. The profile of the hill is forever changed by the excavation for the drillsite, and that is hard for me to take.
More change is coming, since the company will also be laying a gasline along the ridge. After that, things might quiet down again and give us a chance to adjust to the recent intrusion.
When I moved here, I wanted peace, quiet, and distance from manmade things. It seems that no matter how far you run, change follows. I suppose we are fortunate that it has been so slow in coming, and came in stages rather than all at once. But in my heart, I want it like it was when I came here, no electric lines, no phone, no bus, no mail, and few people. I know it can't be, but I will always remember those days as some of the best of my life.
In 1984, we got a telephone by paying $600 to have the line run in. By then I was working 50 miles from home and the phone was necessary. In 1989, we added electricity. At that time, we had a year-old baby (in addition to our 4 teenage sons) and my husband's elderly father, and I was a sophomore in college. Dealing with kerosene lamps and the other tasks associated with a non-electric home was too difficult. So we signed up, paying to have the line run over a mile to our house. In some ways the change was good (laundry by hand is not fun, and neither is a laundromat), in others it was hard to take. I mourned the quiet and the independence we enjoyed without power. We'd been set up pretty well with spring water, bottled gas for stove and hot water, and wood heat. We kept the spring and wood heat, gave up the gas and changed kerosene lamps for electric lights.
Years passed, the spring dried up and we drilled a 730-foot deep well. Until 1993, our nearest neighbor was a mile away. That changed when his children grew up and built homes on the hill, and civilization crept closer. They had children and petitioned for mail and bus service on our road, which by this time had been graveled and tamed into a mostly passable road. As the road improved, we saw more traffic. Gone were the days when the sound of an engine would send us all to the windows to see who it was. Now four-wheelers invaded the quiet, roaring across the ridge every weekend.
Still, our land protected us. With eighty acres around us, and no house within sight of ours, we were still pretty isolated. We let the trees grow along the road, and that and our quarter-mile driveway kept things quiet around our home.
This fall, another change came to our ridge. A gas company has bought up most of the mineral rights up here (except for those under our 50 acres) and planned to drill gas wells. Although I didn't like it, there was nothing I could do to prevent them from drilling on our 30-acre parcel. Since the first of the year, they've been moving closer and closer, and two weeks ago set their drilling rig up on our land.
I have to admit that I'm fascinated by the whole process. The drillers work all night, the rig roars, the lights shine, and the flags fly from the top of the 40-foot rig. It's very industrial and so foreign on this hill. They finished our well in 10 days and moved out the ridge to the next site.
Did they hit gas or oil? Who knows? Not us--they have not told us anything yet. Will we get anything from the well? Since we didn't own the mineral rights, we're not entitled to royalties. What we can get is free gas for our home, if we run the line a mere half-mile to the well. Of course, we'll have to change all our appliances too, and add ductwork if we want to replace our wood heat with a gas furnace. Is it worth it? Maybe, but I'm not convinced. The well adds value to our land of course, but since we don't plan to sell it that's a moot point. The profile of the hill is forever changed by the excavation for the drillsite, and that is hard for me to take.
More change is coming, since the company will also be laying a gasline along the ridge. After that, things might quiet down again and give us a chance to adjust to the recent intrusion.
When I moved here, I wanted peace, quiet, and distance from manmade things. It seems that no matter how far you run, change follows. I suppose we are fortunate that it has been so slow in coming, and came in stages rather than all at once. But in my heart, I want it like it was when I came here, no electric lines, no phone, no bus, no mail, and few people. I know it can't be, but I will always remember those days as some of the best of my life.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
The Story and the Storyteller
"The story belongs to the storyteller." I read this line in a book by Lee Smith, and it made me put the book down and think about that statement. What did she mean? Was she talking about copyright, that hot topic in storytelling world?
No, her meaning was something more--well, meaningful. Think about a story you tell, whether it be a family story or a polished performance piece or a tale you've written. Your telling of the story influences the way the story is heard or perceived by your audience. Call it spin, if you like, although that seems a shallow word to use in consideration of something this important.
For example, if I want an audience to feel that a character is a bad person, I can communicate that without words through body language, facial expression, even tone of voice. They will understand that this person is not someone I like. A writer can do by choice of words, the reaction of other characters, or the description of the character.
We can do influence listeners/readers with other story elements too. We can influence emotions easliy through tone, subject matter, expressions, choice of words. We have an obligation, I think, to keep it honest, because we might have them sorry for us or a story character, believing the story to be a true account, when in fact it's fiction. I've had that experience at a storytelling event and it's unsettling--I felt cheated by the teller who evoked a very emotional response from the audience, then at the end admitted the story was one he'd made up.
And what about working with children? Children are so easy to influence. Do we as storytellers have the right to introduce our own beliefs to them in a story in such a way that we influence them to think as we do? I am a strong opponent of the Iraq War, but should I allow that to influence my storytelling when the audience is young and impressionable--and at that moment looking up to me as a star? (It's nice to be a star sometimes, even if it's for 4 year olds!).
Lee Smith's simple statement leads to some deep reflection on the role and responsibility of any storyteller ,whether a writer or a professional stage teller. We owe our audiences authenticity and truth, even if the story is fiction.
No, her meaning was something more--well, meaningful. Think about a story you tell, whether it be a family story or a polished performance piece or a tale you've written. Your telling of the story influences the way the story is heard or perceived by your audience. Call it spin, if you like, although that seems a shallow word to use in consideration of something this important.
For example, if I want an audience to feel that a character is a bad person, I can communicate that without words through body language, facial expression, even tone of voice. They will understand that this person is not someone I like. A writer can do by choice of words, the reaction of other characters, or the description of the character.
We can do influence listeners/readers with other story elements too. We can influence emotions easliy through tone, subject matter, expressions, choice of words. We have an obligation, I think, to keep it honest, because we might have them sorry for us or a story character, believing the story to be a true account, when in fact it's fiction. I've had that experience at a storytelling event and it's unsettling--I felt cheated by the teller who evoked a very emotional response from the audience, then at the end admitted the story was one he'd made up.
And what about working with children? Children are so easy to influence. Do we as storytellers have the right to introduce our own beliefs to them in a story in such a way that we influence them to think as we do? I am a strong opponent of the Iraq War, but should I allow that to influence my storytelling when the audience is young and impressionable--and at that moment looking up to me as a star? (It's nice to be a star sometimes, even if it's for 4 year olds!).
Lee Smith's simple statement leads to some deep reflection on the role and responsibility of any storyteller ,whether a writer or a professional stage teller. We owe our audiences authenticity and truth, even if the story is fiction.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Just Be Silent
Just Be Silent
“Just be silent,”
the child’s voice whispered
on my answering machine
I obeyed,
stood listening, still
to the quiet.
Just be silent.
I waited for a long time,
no more words came.
I softly hung up the phone
and listened to the silence--
just be silent
just be
listen
silent
Susanna Holstein c 1.31.05
“Just be silent,”
the child’s voice whispered
on my answering machine
I obeyed,
stood listening, still
to the quiet.
Just be silent.
I waited for a long time,
no more words came.
I softly hung up the phone
and listened to the silence--
just be silent
just be
listen
silent
Susanna Holstein c 1.31.05
The Listening Storyteller
Storytellers are listeners, and not just to voices and stories.
We tell stories, but we must first hear those stories from some source, whether it be another person, a book, our own inner voice, or the physical world around us. We need to be listening and aware to hear the stories being gifted to us daily.
There are stories told with a glance, in a song, in children playing a game. Stories are in the wind in the trees, birds calling, water trickling over rocks, the soft swish of snow falling, towhees scratching in dry leaves, doors closing, windows opening, swing sets creaking, footsteps, the hum of air conditioners or crackle of fire, car horns, train whistles, elevators - all these have stories for the teller willing to listen.
We tell stories, but we must first hear those stories from some source, whether it be another person, a book, our own inner voice, or the physical world around us. We need to be listening and aware to hear the stories being gifted to us daily.
There are stories told with a glance, in a song, in children playing a game. Stories are in the wind in the trees, birds calling, water trickling over rocks, the soft swish of snow falling, towhees scratching in dry leaves, doors closing, windows opening, swing sets creaking, footsteps, the hum of air conditioners or crackle of fire, car horns, train whistles, elevators - all these have stories for the teller willing to listen.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
These are the programs I am offering this year for libraries. Since I know librarians are always looking for new ideas, I've included some program, craft and activity suggestions, as well as some good websites for more ideas.
Summer 2007 Program Suggestions
Riddle Me This, Riddle Me That!
All kids love riddles, regardless of their age! Riddle stories and songs invite the audience to participate in the solution. For all ages.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: displays of riddle books
Bookmarks of Internet riddle and puzzle sites, books about making books (see attached list of suggested titles)
Craft: making an “Exquisite corpse” book—not as gruesome as it sounds! (see the flip book pattern at http://familycrafts.about.com/od/homemadebooks/ for instructions)
How and Why Tales
Pourquoi stories that explain why things are the way they are today! Stories about animals, weather, nature and more in a lively set with puppets, participation and fun. For all ages.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: displays of animal books, folktales, and videos/DVDS about animals.
Bookmarks of Internet sites for folktale activities, books from your 398 section
Craft: animal masks, animal puppets
It’s a Mystery!
This program combines riddle stories and songs, “pourquoi” stories with audience participation, props and puppets, and Granny Sue’s Story Bag. Lively, interactive, and fun for all ages, participants stay involved because they have parts in the performance too! The Story Bag has been a hit with children everywhere as they delve into the bag and pull out an item that leads to the next story.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: display riddle and animal books, puppetry books, folktales, children’s CDs and cassettes
Bookmark of Internet sites for puppetry, books from your 791.5 section.
Craft: Make a story bag, with canvas or paper bags
Mysterious West Virginia
A program for children ages 8 to 98, this program focuses on West Virginia’s mysteries, from the Greenbrier Ghost to Mothman. Includes handout, display, coloring sheets, and plenty of food for thought. A puppet pattern for the Flatwoods Monster can be included if requested.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: display West Virginia children’s authors, ghost stories
Bookmark of websites featuring Mothman, Greenbrier Ghost and others; bookmark of books from your 001 section (paranormal).
Craft: make a Flatwoods Monster puppet
West Virginia Ghost Stories
Another program intended for elementary-age children to adult audiences, these stories are favorites of WV State Park visitors. Stories cover the timeline of WV history. Program includes Appalachian ballads.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: display WV music, WV ghost stories
Bookmark of websites devoted to state’s best-known mysteries (Greenbrier Ghost, Wizard Clip, and others), books from your WV collection or WV children’s authors.
Craft: make a book to write your own ghost story.
Other: Libraries could set up tape recorder and let patrons record their own ghost stories. Could later transcribe and print; possible fundraiser?
Fee per program: $200, negotiable if you schedule more than one program per day in your region.
Length: Programs can be 30 minutes to an hour, depending on your scheduling needs. Price includes mileage. Lodging and meals may be required for locations over 2 hours from Jackson County, WV (except in Hardy and Grant counties region, or Fairmont/Morgantown region—I have family in those areas!)
For more information about these programs, call 1-866-643-1353 or email me at susannaholstein@yahoo.com
Suggested Books and Websites:
Making Books That Fly, Fold, Wrap, Hide, Pop Up, Twist, And Turn: Books for Kids to Make by Gwen Diehn 1999, Sterling. I have used this book in many craft programs with children. Often kids think of books as only being one shape or form. This book explodes that myth in with fun crafts to make and do.
Making Books by Hand by Paul Johnson, 1997. A. C. Black, publisher. From the cover: “Over 30 practical book making projects for children.”
The Everything Kids Riddles & Brain Teasers Book: Hours of Challenging Fun (Everything Kids Series) by Kathi Wagner and Aubrey Wagner, 2004. Adams. For older children.
Riddle Me This! Riddles and Stories to Challenge Your Mind By Hugh Lupton, 2003. Barefoot Books. A great collection of stories and riddles!
How the Animals Got Their Colors: Animal Myths from Around the World by Michael Rosen, 1992. Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich.
Why the Possum’s Tail is Bare and Other Native American Myths by James Connolly, 1985, Stemmer.
Storytime Puppet Zoo: Simple storytime Puppets and Plays by Marilyn Lohnes, 2005, Upstart Books.
1-2-3 Puppets: Simple Puppets to Make for working with Young Children by Jean Warren, 1989, Totline Books.
West Virginia Children’s Authors: You can’t do better than Phyllis Moore’s website for a comprehensive listing: http://www.mountainlit.com/children.htm
Other Websites for this Summer:
For Riddles: LogicLand has puzzles, games and more. http://library.thinkquest.org/04oct/00723/
For Mysteries: Mystery Master is probably for older kids and adults who love a challenge. http://www.mysterymaster.com/
For Animal Stories: Endangered Species Picture Book is an online coloring book about endangered animals. It was fast to download when I tried it. Even little ones will like to color the pictures, and older children can learn about endangered animals here. http://www.epa.gov/espp/coloring/
Eight Animal Rascals, from National Geographic, so you know it’s good! http://www.nationalgeographic.com/ngkids/0404/
For Folklore and Myths: This website is kid-friendly, colorful and interactive. http://home.freeuk.net/elloughton13/theatre.htm
http://www.ipl.org/div/kidspace/storyhour/ for online folktales kids can read like the cassette-and-book sets, bit no sound on the site when I tried (maybe my computer?)
West Virginia Ghost Stories online:
www.wvghosts.com
http://www.americanfolklore.net/folktales/wv1.html
http://www.wvtourism.com/hauntings/credits.asp
http://www.prairieghosts.com/shue.html Story of the Greenbrier Ghost
http://olrl.org/stories/wizclip.shtml Story of Wizard Clipp
Summer 2007 Program Suggestions
Riddle Me This, Riddle Me That!
All kids love riddles, regardless of their age! Riddle stories and songs invite the audience to participate in the solution. For all ages.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: displays of riddle books
Bookmarks of Internet riddle and puzzle sites, books about making books (see attached list of suggested titles)
Craft: making an “Exquisite corpse” book—not as gruesome as it sounds! (see the flip book pattern at http://familycrafts.about.com/od/homemadebooks/ for instructions)
How and Why Tales
Pourquoi stories that explain why things are the way they are today! Stories about animals, weather, nature and more in a lively set with puppets, participation and fun. For all ages.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: displays of animal books, folktales, and videos/DVDS about animals.
Bookmarks of Internet sites for folktale activities, books from your 398 section
Craft: animal masks, animal puppets
It’s a Mystery!
This program combines riddle stories and songs, “pourquoi” stories with audience participation, props and puppets, and Granny Sue’s Story Bag. Lively, interactive, and fun for all ages, participants stay involved because they have parts in the performance too! The Story Bag has been a hit with children everywhere as they delve into the bag and pull out an item that leads to the next story.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: display riddle and animal books, puppetry books, folktales, children’s CDs and cassettes
Bookmark of Internet sites for puppetry, books from your 791.5 section.
Craft: Make a story bag, with canvas or paper bags
Mysterious West Virginia
A program for children ages 8 to 98, this program focuses on West Virginia’s mysteries, from the Greenbrier Ghost to Mothman. Includes handout, display, coloring sheets, and plenty of food for thought. A puppet pattern for the Flatwoods Monster can be included if requested.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: display West Virginia children’s authors, ghost stories
Bookmark of websites featuring Mothman, Greenbrier Ghost and others; bookmark of books from your 001 section (paranormal).
Craft: make a Flatwoods Monster puppet
West Virginia Ghost Stories
Another program intended for elementary-age children to adult audiences, these stories are favorites of WV State Park visitors. Stories cover the timeline of WV history. Program includes Appalachian ballads.
Suggestions for Librarians:
Library tie-ins: display WV music, WV ghost stories
Bookmark of websites devoted to state’s best-known mysteries (Greenbrier Ghost, Wizard Clip, and others), books from your WV collection or WV children’s authors.
Craft: make a book to write your own ghost story.
Other: Libraries could set up tape recorder and let patrons record their own ghost stories. Could later transcribe and print; possible fundraiser?
Fee per program: $200, negotiable if you schedule more than one program per day in your region.
Length: Programs can be 30 minutes to an hour, depending on your scheduling needs. Price includes mileage. Lodging and meals may be required for locations over 2 hours from Jackson County, WV (except in Hardy and Grant counties region, or Fairmont/Morgantown region—I have family in those areas!)
For more information about these programs, call 1-866-643-1353 or email me at susannaholstein@yahoo.com
Suggested Books and Websites:
Making Books That Fly, Fold, Wrap, Hide, Pop Up, Twist, And Turn: Books for Kids to Make by Gwen Diehn 1999, Sterling. I have used this book in many craft programs with children. Often kids think of books as only being one shape or form. This book explodes that myth in with fun crafts to make and do.
Making Books by Hand by Paul Johnson, 1997. A. C. Black, publisher. From the cover: “Over 30 practical book making projects for children.”
The Everything Kids Riddles & Brain Teasers Book: Hours of Challenging Fun (Everything Kids Series) by Kathi Wagner and Aubrey Wagner, 2004. Adams. For older children.
Riddle Me This! Riddles and Stories to Challenge Your Mind By Hugh Lupton, 2003. Barefoot Books. A great collection of stories and riddles!
How the Animals Got Their Colors: Animal Myths from Around the World by Michael Rosen, 1992. Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich.
Why the Possum’s Tail is Bare and Other Native American Myths by James Connolly, 1985, Stemmer.
Storytime Puppet Zoo: Simple storytime Puppets and Plays by Marilyn Lohnes, 2005, Upstart Books.
1-2-3 Puppets: Simple Puppets to Make for working with Young Children by Jean Warren, 1989, Totline Books.
West Virginia Children’s Authors: You can’t do better than Phyllis Moore’s website for a comprehensive listing: http://www.mountainlit.com/children.htm
Other Websites for this Summer:
For Riddles: LogicLand has puzzles, games and more. http://library.thinkquest.org/04oct/00723/
For Mysteries: Mystery Master is probably for older kids and adults who love a challenge. http://www.mysterymaster.com/
For Animal Stories: Endangered Species Picture Book is an online coloring book about endangered animals. It was fast to download when I tried it. Even little ones will like to color the pictures, and older children can learn about endangered animals here. http://www.epa.gov/espp/coloring/
Eight Animal Rascals, from National Geographic, so you know it’s good! http://www.nationalgeographic.com/ngkids/0404/
For Folklore and Myths: This website is kid-friendly, colorful and interactive. http://home.freeuk.net/elloughton13/theatre.htm
http://www.ipl.org/div/kidspace/storyhour/ for online folktales kids can read like the cassette-and-book sets, bit no sound on the site when I tried (maybe my computer?)
West Virginia Ghost Stories online:
www.wvghosts.com
http://www.americanfolklore.net/folktales/wv1.html
http://www.wvtourism.com/hauntings/credits.asp
http://www.prairieghosts.com/shue.html Story of the Greenbrier Ghost
http://olrl.org/stories/wizclip.shtml Story of Wizard Clipp
Beginning
The writing prompt said only "write a poem about beginnings." I thought about it, then finally went to the thesaurus to see what other words meant "begin." Amazing how many there are! That prompted the following poem, owed entirely to the thesaurus:
Begin
I will start
induced by a cause
a great occasion
an open invitation
to generate--what?
a new beginning?
I will create something, anything,
a poem.
I will impel my words
across this page,
produce an effect
that will launch meaning
into empty air,
mount feeling on paper
if only virtual;
do it, she said
get motivated,
where is your drive,
your animation?
And so the challenge
to institute some order
generate worth, or words,
undertake this task;
act instead of dream,
introduce the boggarts
that originate in sleep
found in deeper recesses
established there as
actualized fantasy
triggered by one word
--begin
cSusanna Holstein 2007
Begin
I will start
induced by a cause
a great occasion
an open invitation
to generate--what?
a new beginning?
I will create something, anything,
a poem.
I will impel my words
across this page,
produce an effect
that will launch meaning
into empty air,
mount feeling on paper
if only virtual;
do it, she said
get motivated,
where is your drive,
your animation?
And so the challenge
to institute some order
generate worth, or words,
undertake this task;
act instead of dream,
introduce the boggarts
that originate in sleep
found in deeper recesses
established there as
actualized fantasy
triggered by one word
--begin
cSusanna Holstein 2007
Why Tell Stories?
That's a question that every storyteller must answer at some time in their career. Why do I telll stories?
Because storytelling:
· creates a warm social relationship between the teller and the listener
· Improves listening comprehension, a vital pre-reading skill for children
· introduces us to literature we may not be familiar with
· whets our appetite for further literary experiences
· introduces us to characters with whom we can relate
· has been the best tool for passing on the values and morals of families and peoples for centuries
· increases our understanding and awareness of our world s diverse cultures
· keeps alive an ancient artform
· develops our mental imaging ability, another skill necessary for reading comprehension
And perhaps the best reason of all:
· Storytelling is fun!
And this final thought:
"Many people don't realize the extent to which stories influence our behavior and even shape our culture. Think about how Bible stories teach the fundamentals of religion and rules of conduct. Think of the fables and parables that molded your values. Think of how stories about your national, cultural or family history have shaped your attitudes about yourself and others."
---Lawrence Shapiro, Ph.D in How to Raise a Child With a High EQ: A Parents' Guide to Emotional Intelligence, HarperCollins Publishers, 1997.
Because storytelling:
· creates a warm social relationship between the teller and the listener
· Improves listening comprehension, a vital pre-reading skill for children
· introduces us to literature we may not be familiar with
· whets our appetite for further literary experiences
· introduces us to characters with whom we can relate
· has been the best tool for passing on the values and morals of families and peoples for centuries
· increases our understanding and awareness of our world s diverse cultures
· keeps alive an ancient artform
· develops our mental imaging ability, another skill necessary for reading comprehension
And perhaps the best reason of all:
· Storytelling is fun!
And this final thought:
"Many people don't realize the extent to which stories influence our behavior and even shape our culture. Think about how Bible stories teach the fundamentals of religion and rules of conduct. Think of the fables and parables that molded your values. Think of how stories about your national, cultural or family history have shaped your attitudes about yourself and others."
---Lawrence Shapiro, Ph.D in How to Raise a Child With a High EQ: A Parents' Guide to Emotional Intelligence, HarperCollins Publishers, 1997.
Hunting for Stories about Hunting
Working on a set list for an upcoming gig, I discovered that many of the tales I was reading were about hunting. And they were funny! Now I'm at work on a new set of stories, all hunting tall tales. The key is to find stories that are not offensive to anyone, and that in itself might be a tall tale. I've noted that often audience members don't like it when an animal dies in a story (human or otherwise).
What's odd about this aversion is that movies and video games are full of death, often viloent and horrible death. So why is it different in a storytelling setting? Because when people listen to stories, they create their own visual images, unlike other media that present exactly what the producers want the viewer to see. If I say "dog" in a story, people may picture their own favorite pet. And then it gets killed in the story? That doesn't work for me, or my listeners.
I'm not a fan of violent movies, or movies that have a woman screaming in terror in the first five minutes. I don't enjoy or get entertained by violence or cruelty, and that carries over to my storytelling. I have been told, "but that's the way life is, so you're avoiding real life." Perhaps. All stories are not about real life; they're about fantasies, humor, mystery, romance. They are about how things could be or might have been, told through the teller's eyes. Each teller chooses the kind of stories they want or need to tell. For me, those stories do not include terror, raw violence, cruelty, profanity or pornography. Other storytellers make other choices, the freedom of living in this country.
So if my stories are not about "real" life, whatever that may be, they are about my life, my place in the mountains of West Virginia, about the people and the things I know. I tell ghost stories and I sing murder ballads, but for me those are not about violence as much as they are about trying to understand why those things might have happened. And even some ballads are too gory for me! In the end, I want my audiences to come to the end of listening in a safe place emotionally. They trusted me enough to come and listen, I need to honor that trust.
Getting back to hunting stories, which is where I began: I am finding many that fit my self-imposed limitations. I've found local history stories, Jack tales, animal lore and more. I think I am going to have a lot of fun putting this set together.
What's odd about this aversion is that movies and video games are full of death, often viloent and horrible death. So why is it different in a storytelling setting? Because when people listen to stories, they create their own visual images, unlike other media that present exactly what the producers want the viewer to see. If I say "dog" in a story, people may picture their own favorite pet. And then it gets killed in the story? That doesn't work for me, or my listeners.
I'm not a fan of violent movies, or movies that have a woman screaming in terror in the first five minutes. I don't enjoy or get entertained by violence or cruelty, and that carries over to my storytelling. I have been told, "but that's the way life is, so you're avoiding real life." Perhaps. All stories are not about real life; they're about fantasies, humor, mystery, romance. They are about how things could be or might have been, told through the teller's eyes. Each teller chooses the kind of stories they want or need to tell. For me, those stories do not include terror, raw violence, cruelty, profanity or pornography. Other storytellers make other choices, the freedom of living in this country.
So if my stories are not about "real" life, whatever that may be, they are about my life, my place in the mountains of West Virginia, about the people and the things I know. I tell ghost stories and I sing murder ballads, but for me those are not about violence as much as they are about trying to understand why those things might have happened. And even some ballads are too gory for me! In the end, I want my audiences to come to the end of listening in a safe place emotionally. They trusted me enough to come and listen, I need to honor that trust.
Getting back to hunting stories, which is where I began: I am finding many that fit my self-imposed limitations. I've found local history stories, Jack tales, animal lore and more. I think I am going to have a lot of fun putting this set together.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Storytelling
Time to start gearing up for storytelling again. The gig calendar is filling up, and I'm beginning to get the usual jitters--need to learn some new stories, dust off the old familiar ones. Every year it's the same thing, and every year I am amazed at how energized I am when I get back on stage after the winter break.
I am listing my events on the right, and will continue to add new ones as they are scheduled. I am restocking copies of The Zinnia Tales, an anthology of stories about strong Appalachian women. I just found out that the book is available on Amazon.com. There's something a little unnerving to see your name, even if it's very small, on Amazon.
I still have copies of my CD Mountain Story, Mountain Song, and will begin work on a new CD soon. This one, I think, will be ghost stories from West Virginia. These are the highest-demand stories I tell, and of course there will be ballads on the CD.
I am listing my events on the right, and will continue to add new ones as they are scheduled. I am restocking copies of The Zinnia Tales, an anthology of stories about strong Appalachian women. I just found out that the book is available on Amazon.com. There's something a little unnerving to see your name, even if it's very small, on Amazon.
I still have copies of my CD Mountain Story, Mountain Song, and will begin work on a new CD soon. This one, I think, will be ghost stories from West Virginia. These are the highest-demand stories I tell, and of course there will be ballads on the CD.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Rabbit, Rabbit and Superstitions
Rabbit! Rabbit! Rabbit! I hope you remembered to say this first thing this morning. It will bring you money and good luck throughout the month. So said my mother, and so says the wikipedia
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbit_rabbit) if you don't believe it.
I love old superstitutions. Do I believe them? Well, why take a chance, if I can prevent bad luck by stepping on a comb when I drop it, get out of bed with my right leg first, or throw spilt salt over my left shoulder? Want more ways to ensure luck, marriage, long life, money and whatever else your heart desires? Look no further than http://www.oldsuperstitions.com/
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbit_rabbit) if you don't believe it.
I love old superstitutions. Do I believe them? Well, why take a chance, if I can prevent bad luck by stepping on a comb when I drop it, get out of bed with my right leg first, or throw spilt salt over my left shoulder? Want more ways to ensure luck, marriage, long life, money and whatever else your heart desires? Look no further than http://www.oldsuperstitions.com/
Winter Thoughts and Winter Reading
More snow today--seems like it has snowed every day since I last posted. Nothing to amount to anything, but enough to keep the ground white for a few hours here and there, and today we have almost two inches at home, while nowhere else seems to have anything. Very strange, very local. I checked out a book at the library called Ken Libbrecht's Field Guide to Snowflakes. The photos are astonishing, breathtaking. I had to find the website (www.its.caltech.edu/~atomic/snowcrystals ) and look at them online too. You can print the photos, make cards, etc. These are the same photos the US postal service used on stamps recently. The website has other snow activities and scientific information about how snowflakes for. I did not know that snowflake shapes are always in threes--no such thing as an eight-pointed snowflake.
I've been in a reading mood lately, trying to read as much and as widely as possible during these long winter evenings. Since we took out the television and the satellite over a year ago, we've re-learned what to do with our time when it's too cold or too dark outdoors to do anything. Some evenings I work on writing, others I talk to family on the phone, or Larry and I just sit and talk by the fireplace in the log room. It's quiet and peaceful, just the two of us, our three dogs and 20 or so chickens within a half mile.
What have I been reading? A lot of children's picture books, looking for writing ideas and also for what makes a good book and what makes a bad one. Some things I've observed: good picture books read like good poems. There is a flow to the language, and the story can stand alone without the pictures because the images created by the words are so good. Re-reading some of my favorites like Jan Brett, Marc Harshman, and Denise Fleming I see again why these books attract me--it's the language and the crafting of the story.
Lee Smith (www.leesmith.com) has been my "featured author" for the past month, apparently. I read her newest effort, Agate Hill, then went on to read two others--Devil's Dream and Fair and Tender Ladies. All of these books pulled me along, and kept me up well past bedtime. It takes a lot to do that because it seems like I have so much to do every minute I'm awake. But Lee Smith has a way with a story, giving good voice to her Appalachian people and putting me right into the place they live.
Other reading: ballad books, looking for a new song to learn. No luck yet--I find several that attract me, but so far nothing that says it belongs to me. I'll be back on www.contemplator.com to listen to melodies and perhaps that will lead me to something I want to learn. I like the murder ballads for some reason, I suppose because they're strong with imagery.
Literary journals have been on my list too, as I study what makes a good poem. I'm still stumped by that and I think perhaps literary journals are not the place to study. Many seem to prefer the oddly written, indecipherable arrangement of artful words that have no meaning for me. I might be too country and too straightforward in my thinking to appreciate this type of writing. I want to get a flash of personal recognition from a poem, something that says "ah yes, I know what this poet means, what he feels, thinks, sees." But maybe that's not what poets write anymore?
I was encouraged, however, when I picked up a copy of Ted Kooser's book Winter Morning Walks: 100 Postcards to Jim Harrison. The simplicity of his words, spare and lean like the Iowa landscape of his home, refreshes me and makes me hopeful that perhaps not all poetry has to be so inpenetrable. His website (http://www.tedkooser.com/) has a link to his poetry column, published weekly. You can also sign up to get the columnn by email:(http://www.americanlifeinpoetry.org/email.html)
I've been in a reading mood lately, trying to read as much and as widely as possible during these long winter evenings. Since we took out the television and the satellite over a year ago, we've re-learned what to do with our time when it's too cold or too dark outdoors to do anything. Some evenings I work on writing, others I talk to family on the phone, or Larry and I just sit and talk by the fireplace in the log room. It's quiet and peaceful, just the two of us, our three dogs and 20 or so chickens within a half mile.
What have I been reading? A lot of children's picture books, looking for writing ideas and also for what makes a good book and what makes a bad one. Some things I've observed: good picture books read like good poems. There is a flow to the language, and the story can stand alone without the pictures because the images created by the words are so good. Re-reading some of my favorites like Jan Brett, Marc Harshman, and Denise Fleming I see again why these books attract me--it's the language and the crafting of the story.
Lee Smith (www.leesmith.com) has been my "featured author" for the past month, apparently. I read her newest effort, Agate Hill, then went on to read two others--Devil's Dream and Fair and Tender Ladies. All of these books pulled me along, and kept me up well past bedtime. It takes a lot to do that because it seems like I have so much to do every minute I'm awake. But Lee Smith has a way with a story, giving good voice to her Appalachian people and putting me right into the place they live.
Other reading: ballad books, looking for a new song to learn. No luck yet--I find several that attract me, but so far nothing that says it belongs to me. I'll be back on www.contemplator.com to listen to melodies and perhaps that will lead me to something I want to learn. I like the murder ballads for some reason, I suppose because they're strong with imagery.
Literary journals have been on my list too, as I study what makes a good poem. I'm still stumped by that and I think perhaps literary journals are not the place to study. Many seem to prefer the oddly written, indecipherable arrangement of artful words that have no meaning for me. I might be too country and too straightforward in my thinking to appreciate this type of writing. I want to get a flash of personal recognition from a poem, something that says "ah yes, I know what this poet means, what he feels, thinks, sees." But maybe that's not what poets write anymore?
I was encouraged, however, when I picked up a copy of Ted Kooser's book Winter Morning Walks: 100 Postcards to Jim Harrison. The simplicity of his words, spare and lean like the Iowa landscape of his home, refreshes me and makes me hopeful that perhaps not all poetry has to be so inpenetrable. His website (http://www.tedkooser.com/) has a link to his poetry column, published weekly. You can also sign up to get the columnn by email:(http://www.americanlifeinpoetry.org/email.html)
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