Home Again: Kentucky Storytelling Conference Memories

It was a great weekend.

West Virginia storytellers at the conference: Jo Ann Dadisman, Bill Hairston, Adam Booth, Mikalena Zuckett, and me, trying not to laugh out loud. Herding storytellers is like herding cats! 

Lots of stories, lots of laughter. It was so good to reconnect with storytelling friends from Kentucky, Ohio, other states--even including my own state of West Virginia, as I seldom get to meet up with other state tellers due to distance and schedule conflicts.  But this past weekend offered plenty of opportunities. I rode with my friend Jo Ann over the tall mountains to the little coal-mining community of Harlan, where the conference took place. It's not a drive for the faint of heart, with twisting climbing roads and steep dropoffs. But the views were stunning where they were not torn apart by mining.

I heard some fantastic tellers. In particular a girl of about 12 who could tell tales with skills many would not master until much older. Her Kentucky dialect and expressive face were perfect for the Jack tales she told. Look for her in the future of storytelling, as Sky Bird is destined to become one of the best. She is being mentored by one of Kentucky's best, Octavia Sexton, so she is on good ground to get started.

Another new-to-me teller was Judy Baker of Tennessee. She told her tale so delightfully, with such a droll face. Then there was Dwight Henry with his sugary-sweet story about sugar, so very funny, and Sam Adams with a dark tale of murder and a hanging in his home county of Floyd. A deaf teller named Elaine--I did not catch her last name--took us to a nail salon in her story; if you think a deaf person cannot be a storyteller, think again. She was great, reminding me of the great Peter Cook, an internationally known deaf storyteller. There were many others--Teri Lott of Ohio, my friend Jo Ann Dadisman (who told a story about a coal mine horse), Mary Hamilton of Kentucky, Mikalena Zuckett of West Virginia, and more.

We heard ghost stories, family stories, historical tales, tall tales, and everything in between. Even ballads! Teller Barbara Schutzgruber of Michigan delighted us by weaving a story into a ballad from Cornwall. It's a technique I've used myself and is an effective way to introduce audiences to ballads, or to share a very long ballad in a shorter version. I shared two ballads, to offer a sung story instead of a told story: Down in Yon Forest and The Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie. Both are favorites of mine, and both are haunting.

There were workshops too. Adam Booth of West Virginia was the featured performer and conducted a workshop for everyone on using cinematic techniques to develop a story. This was a new concept to me, but one that readily made sense. I followed that one by attending a workshop by international storyteller David Novak on using words in the most effective way by emphasizing sounds, breaks, pauses, etc. After lunch it was time for my own workshop on superstitions and omens. I had a great group in the workshop; they readily shared experiences and superstitions they knew or had grown up with. I was most intrigued with one about mirrors that was shared by a girl who was there with her parents. She said that never place two mirrors facing each other, because it creates a portal through which spirits--good or evil--can pass. Have you ever heard this?

After my workshop I took a break, just to let my mind rest. I went on a drive around Harlan with Adam Booth, just seeing what was there to see. Old houses, a restored train depot, roads winding up and down steep, steep hills with houses hanging on precariously (or so it seemed). We had a good time talking and catching up as we have not been in a place to do so for several years. How quickly the time passes.

Sunday morning came too soon, and it was time to say good-bye. At breakfast Cynthia Changaris got out her guitar and we sang a few songs in the motel breakfast room with other storytellers who were present, and I had a great conversation with Ed Bryson of Kentucky about ballads and balladsinging. Then we packed up Jo Ann's car and headed out on the long, twisting drive across the steep mountains of Eastern Kentucky and southern West Virginia, back to our homes--me to my Ohio River valley ridge and Jo Ann to the hills of Preston county. It was wonderful to have those hours with her in the car, talking about everything under the sun.

Memories of Harlan: the gorgeous possum mural that I did not get to photograph because my phone was dead; winter-dead kudzu hanging from hills, power lines, everywhere; the historic downtown that was so quiet--too quiet--for a Saturday morning; the stately county courthouse; the site of the  protest this summer when miners blocked a coal train after a coal company went bankrupt and their last paychecks bounced (the miners did finally get paid, and the clerk at the motel told us how the community pulled together to support them, with the local shoe store and other businesses chipping in to be sure children had new shoes, backpacks and clothes for the new school year); the steep, steep mountains with breathtaking views; the mountains destroyed by stripmines and mountaintop removal mines; the tiny family cemeteries clinging to the sides of the hills. I hope to go back one day when I have more time to explore this hardy, historic area.

Today I am tired. My mind is almost numb as I try to get back into the daily routine of housework. Larry is working on the new countertop and I am trying to stay out of his way. It's a warmer than usual day, and the porch is beckoning, so I think I'll grab some coffee and head outside. Join me?

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.