Hundred, Paden City, and Middlebourne Storytelling

Monday was a busy day of storytelling. I left home at 8:00am (a lot later than my usual 6:00am leave time!) and headed north to three small libraries in West Virginia's northern panhandle. It was hot--so hot that I didn't take any outdoor photos. The air was steamy, blue with haze, and it made even breathing difficult. I drove through the tiny communities of Friendly, Grape Island, Ben’s Run, Long Reach, and Sistersville, occasionally running alongside the big river barges as they pushed their loads upstream.

First stop was Paden City. It’s the home of the marble maker Marble King. Most marbles have been made in West Virginia for years, and Paden City has been the chief source. It’s a pretty river town, hugging the banks of the Ohio.

Then it was on to Middlebourne, the county seat of Tyler County. I stopped for lunch in mid-town at Betty’s Diner. As I waited in line to be served, a small boy asked me, “Why are you wearing a red dress?” I explained that I liked red. “Oh,” he replied. “Do you have any blue dresses?” I assured him I did. “How about purple?” I had to think about that. “No, I don’t think I do,” I told him. “Well,” he said, “you should!” I thanked him for his advice.

The audience at Middlebourne had many children who attended a school I’d told stories at recently. To my surprise, they wanted me to tell the same stories, so I did. I added a few new ones too—“Like Meat Loves Salt,” (several variations on the theme here) and “Rindercella” (Archie Campbell's version is here) just for the fun of it.

Here, a young storyteller sprays the audience with the skunk

puppet. You can tell how sad she is to do it! I usually invite children to participate in telling the stories and handling

the puppets. My puppets know the rules: misbehave and it's back in the suitcase! So their child handlers are very careful that the puppets never fight or bite (the first thing most children who don't have puppets want to do with them is make them fight. This rule takes care of that problem).

Hundred is one of my favorite libraries. Only a few children turned out on that hot afternoon, so we sat around a table and swapped stories. I told a few Jack tales, and then we just talked—about snakes and outhouses and canning and other country things.

One lady told about her mother going into an old outhouse that began tipping over when her mother went in. Her mother felt it and shifted her weight so the outhouse tipped the other way. But every time her mother moved, so did the outhouse! Fortunately, the outhouse never tipped completely over and her mother got out safely.

On the drive home, I wondered what kind of purple dress that little boy thought I should wear. I should have asked him; he seemed quite certain about it.