From Morning to Evening, What a Fine Birthday

Today started early--I was on the porch at dawn, hoping to see that moment when, as my friend Dianne Hackworth reminded me, the sun stands still. But fog and clouds hid old Sol from my view--and that was all right because the rain last night was most welcome.

We left at 8am to go back to the West Virginia Folk Festival for a second day in the Oral Traditions Tent. We were there yesterday for my performance time in the tent. It was hot, hot, hot, but the audience was pretty cool and into the stories, poems and ballads I shared.

For the past few years, the festival has occurred on my birthday weekend so I am usually there and not having cake and ice cream at home. It's well worth it to hear such good stories and poems and to see people I may not see again for months, and to be surrounded by music and crafts in a small community nestled in the West Virginia hills (and home to the state song by that name).

 Two friends collaborated to surprise me this year with not just a cake, but a cake topped with a fizzing sparkler! What fun that was! I am still smiling from the surprise and laughter of that moment.

The cake was mighty good too. We shared pieces with everyone in the tent, a sweet treat on the first day of summer.

A highlight this year was Kirk Judd's presentation of poems in his new book, My People Was Music. Kirk doesn't read his poetry, he performs it, and his poems tell stories--stories of mountain hikes, of heritage and music, of friends and family and life in these hills. Not all easy words, but all worth hearing. The tent was full to capacity and beyond for his performance. Afterwards we visited with a fiddle player from Cincinnati who told me a few ghost stories. He was curious about the story behind the name of the small community of Burnt House, so I told him the story of the murders and the supposed appearance of the girl who burned to death in a fire there (a story you can find on my CD, Beyond the Grave).

I visited the historic Holt House to see a fellow Two Lane Livin' writer, Karen Pennebaker. While there I toured the house--built in 1901, the same time period as the house I grew up in, it had much of the same woodwork and trim. I especially loved the kitchen, though, with its "border" of aprons. What a fun way to display them.

I had another reason for my visit to Holt House--lemon ammonia cookies! They are delicious, and I look for them every year. This is NOT household ammonia, this is baking ammonia, and old time ingredient used to make the cookies rise. This link will take you to a recipe that looks and sounds much like the cookies I bought today.

The rain held off almost all day, but late in the afternoon the skies opened and dumped torrents of rain. Susan Sheppard of Parkersburg forged ahead with her reading, even though water was pooling at her feet.

Judi Tarowsky followed, and her husband of 44 years provided shelter for his wife. That's love, friends. (And believe me, both of them were a lot happier about it than the photo appears--what happens when I grab a quick snap with my phone sometimes.) I have to give props to Judi and Susan--real troupers, both of them, and great storytellers.

Now I am home and packing again for a week away at the fantastic Allegheny Echoes Music and Creative Writing Workshops (with a little break to do a program for the library in Lost Creek, WV). I have done some of my best writing at Echoes, and am looking forward to a week of evenings in a cabin on the banks of the Greenbrier River and days working with other writers to craft new work.

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

The Folk Festival

The alarm went off at 7:00 am and I hit the floor. Where was I going? Back to the West Virginia State Folk Festival in Glenville, about an hour and a half from home. I'd been there yesterday to tell stories, then drove home because I had so much to do. This morning I was out the door early and on the road back to Glenville.

An hour and a half drive might seem like a distance, but in reality Glenville is only about 60 miles from my home. The road however, is two-lane and twists over steep hills and 45 mph is about the speed I could expect to make. The ridgetops were shrouded in fog blankets and the air was cool and clean after yesterday's rain (which did not, unfortunately make it to my place).

In Glenville, I went directly to the Oral Traditions Tent. I knew my friend, poet Kirk Judd, was up first this morning. He and I were the only ones in the tent at his start time so we just talked, about poetry, about the festival, about writing, about life. Then a few others showed up and Kirk began his set. He called up ghosts: the spirits of two great West Virginia poets who passed on this year joined us as Kirk offered a tribute to their memory.

The festival parade began and we watched a parade of ladies dressed in old-time dresses, antique cars, floats and horses pass by. Then it was my turn. This time I read my poems, moving from weather lore to gardens to grief and coal and home. Judi Tarowsky followed me with lovely deep stories of a steel mill town and a family reunion. Next was Becky Baldwin, sharing family memories of the Miners March and the coal mine wars of the 1930's.

We sat and talked afterward, about the miner's war (the only time we dropped bombs on our own people) and the feud (in West Virginia, that can only mean the Hatfields and McCoys). A young tattooed and pierced couple joined us, she in the last days of her first pregnancy. We spoke of omens, signs, witchery, ghosts, dreams and midwives. We told of strange happenings in our families, our communities, and to ourselves. We listened. In the doorways and on the street, banjos, fiddles, hammered dulcimers and guitars played as jam sessions struck up. I took no pictures; I was too involved to step outside into the photographer's role.

It was time for me to leave, though I was loathe to go. I knew the music and dancing would continue into the wee hours of morning. But I needed to go home, unpack and re-pack for next week's adventure. I needed to wash clothes, water my gardens, pay bills and catch up on email because next week I will have little or no access to the internet.

I drove back across the hills, slowly this time remembering the voices, the words, the stories, the faces, the music.



Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Stories in Stone: Old Glenville Cemetery

 It's a quiet, small cemetery, riding the crests of small ridges on the campus of Glenville State College. Yet among its inhabitants are two who died untimely deaths:

What I know: his father Herbert was a World War I veteran who died in Martinsburg, West Virginia in 1958--perhaps at the veteran's hospital? His mother was Elva Turner Brannon who passed away in 1955. They are buried at the Brannon Cemetery in Minnora, WV. Their son Robert is buried at the Old Glenville Cemetery on the grounds of Glenville State College. What I don't know: how did he die? who killed him and why? There is a story here, a sad one, I am sure, but for now this is all I know of Robert Lee Brannon.  There must be more to learn.

 Quiet graves among the trees,

and a stone that marks the passing of one un-named.

The grave of Sarah "Sis" Linn, who was murdered not far from this spot in 1919.

Grave marker of the parents of Sis Linn, the ghost of Glenville State.

Sophronia Linn, Sis Linn's mother, and Robert, her father, are resting close by their daughter's grave.

Memories Like Music: West Virginia State Folk Festival, Day One

We're home again after a weekend that I have difficulty describing. Perhaps a recipe will do it best:

Take 4 parts music, add 2 parts singing, 1 part storytelling, 1 part dancing, 1 part friendly people, 1 part history, 1 part handicrafts. Add one ghost, 4 storytellers, 2 stunning concerts,  2 nights of music under the night sky. Mix well with good food, a little wine, a lot of laughter, a few tears. Sprinkle liberally with new friends, add old friends. Serve with a generous sauce of music, music, and music. That's the West Virginia State Folk Festival.

The festival actually starts Thursday but we were storytelling that day so we arrived Friday. After checking in to our dorm room (a steal at $25 a night if you're not a performer) we moseyed down to the singing tent. We listened to folk singer Mike Morningstar, and then I was on to sing and teach ballads to anyone who wandered into the tent.

We had a nice group of 10-12 people; I brought copies of the lyrics to some ballads I thought would be easy to learn. After a few songs I asked if anyone in the tent was a ballad singer. Two people raised their hands. I asked if they'd like to sing one for us, and the man stood up. I asked him where he was from, meaning which county or state, and his reply shocked me: "England." He sang beautifully; I wish I could remember his first song but its title escapes me; then his wife, who was from Gilmer County, where this festival is held, sang Silver Dagger. Her voice is pure mountain, just heart-rending. We sang a few more, and I cannot tell you what a pleasure it was for me to swap songs with them. Ballad-singers are few and far between, at least in this area, and I rarely get the opportunity to share songs with other singers. Their story  was fascinating too--a chance meeting when he was here on business, a long-distance romance, then marriage. They now live in England but come back to the States annually to visit her family.

After my session we stuck around to listen to Linda Moore and her partner Jack Greathouse. Energy and good voices, both. Following them was the Putnam Family Singers from Roane County. A family group of parents and three children, they sing a lot of gospel but also play some old-time tunes. The littlest son, Andrew, keeps them all hopping to keep him in line, but at 5 or 6 years old he's an amazing singer. Son Isaac plays guitar and mandolin and was a state youth guitar contest winner at Vandalia. Daughter Carolyn was also a Vandalia winner on fiddle. The whole family is just a fine group to listen to, a testament to good parenting and good music.

I was torn in the evening: go "up on the hill" (and it's a steep one for real!) for the evening concert and to hear Phyllis Marks who is one of the few remaining ballad singers of the older generation, and the other wonderful performers in the evening concert, or attend the ghost stories session. We ended up doing both. We raced up the hill to hear Phyllis who was on stage first, after the West Virginia Belles were onstage. These are ladies who are honored by their local homemakers' clubs and they come dressed in period costumes. We stayed for Lester McCumbers and then ran back down the hill to the ghost stories session. My main reason for attending this program was to hear the story of Sis Linn, the ghost who is said to haunt the halls of Glenville State College. After the storytelling session, we went back on the hill to the old cemetery, where storyteller Becky Baldwin told us Sis Linn's story. It's the sad tale of an unsolved murder of an older, single woman--probably a common enough story when the sons of prominent local people were suspect. No wonder the poor woman wanders the campus.

I thought I saw Sis as we walked down the hill...nah. Probably not...

We went back down to listen to the many jam sessions taking place in doorways, bank drive-thrus, on corners, porches, stoops and even in parking lots. The surrounding hills rang with music and laughter and the stomping feet of the square dancers. I got a sudden urge for food so we walked into the local convenience store (notice I said "the"--there is only one in town) and who should be there but Becky Baldwin, the evening's storyteller. We sat in a booth with her and chatted about storytelling, history, and other topics and came to find out her roots are not far from where Larry was raised in southern West Virginia. With a little time to trace it, I'm pretty sure we'd find a family connection!

We wandered around the square dance (look at all the young faces!) and jam sessions one more time before finally heading up to our room about 1:00 am. I didn't want the evening to end, but I also knew the next day would be busy and we needed to get some sleep. As I drifted off the waning moon shone in the window on me, a token of these long summer nights at the Glenville Festival.

Glenville Folk Festival, Part 2

This year the folk festival tried something new in the schedule: ghost stories! Now you know that's right up my alley. The problem was that the ghost stories program was scheduled at the same time as the evening concert, and there were people in the concert I really, really wanted to hear--like Phyllis Marks, one of the few old-time ballad-singers left on our state. I had to make a choice, and this time the storytelling won out.

When we arrived, Dr. David Corcoran, publisher of the Glenville Democrat newspaper, was telling his version of the Greenbrier Ghost story, one of my favorites and the most famous of West Virginia ghost tales. Dr. Corcoran told about a couple of experiences his family had in a house they owned in Greenbrier county, then opened the floor to the people in attendance.

One man told stories about ghosts in Weston, West Virginia and the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, another told a story about a girl in white who appeared in a house they lived in. I decided to offer two stories: one is a supposedly true story told to Larry by his grandmother about a boarding house in Olcott, WV where Larry grew up. The owner was reportedly locked in the attic by her son and left to starve to death, and until the place burned down people could hear her walking about in the attic, or opening and shutting cupboard doors in the kitchen, apparently looking for food. I also told Tailypo, an old mountain "jump tale", or story that makes the audience "jump" from a scare at the end. I was surprised that no one in the audience had heard it before since it's a fairly well-known and often-told story.

At the end of the storytelling, a drawing was held for a woodcut of a story in a book by Dr. Ruth Ann Musick called "The Telltale Lilac Bush." Everyone present was invited to put their name in the hat. And guess what? I won! How amazing is that! The picture is of a headless peddler who was murdered and whose head was seen burning near a whirlpool in the river (see page 93, of you want to read the story). Even stranger than the fact that I won is that I have told this story in the past. The woodcut will travel with me whenever I tell ghost stories now. And of course I'll have to tell the story about the peddler, too.

Here is a picture of the plaque and of the festival newspaper that includes an article by me on the importance of storytelling in today's culture:

The back of the plaque tells who made it, when and where he got his inspiration. True folk art, this.

And here's a close-up of the front of the plaque.

I love it! I've already volunteered to help with next year's ghost stories and I hope I'm taken up on the offer. We didn't get to go to the cemetery, but those who did were treated to more tales, especially the local legend of Sis Lynn who is buried, I hear, in that cemetery. There are so many reported sightings and incidents about Sis Lynn that it would be hard to label them all as coincidence. I definitely want to go to the cemetery myself and see her grave.

Glenville Folk Festival, Part 1

Here's my first post with photos about the West Virginia folk Festival in Glenville, WV this weekend. I'll have at least one or two more posts to follow.

The festival sponsors many events, all free to the public. Saturday was a full day, with the parade, the Oral Traditions tent, a spelling bee, shape note singing, and an evening concert on my to-do list. Larry's list included a session with a History Alive presenter who represented Mad Anne Bailey, and time listening to musicians in the singing tent. It was a hot, hot day, so I was glad to find activities we could do that were in air-conditioned buildings!

Our favorite place to eat in Glenville is the Common Place Restaurant. Yesterday I noticed this clock on the restaurant wall: "Booger Hole, Where Time Stands Still." That had to be a picture! As I snapped it, the restaurant's owner told me that his wife grew up in Booger Hole and knew many ghost stories from the area. I hope to return and interview her soon, because I know the area, in Clay County, is rife with stories. You can read my review of a book about the area and its history here.

Jim and Judy Meads are part of the Festival's organizing team, and work with me to organize the Oral Traditions tent. They are fast becoming good friends, and Jim is a fellow blogger--you can link to his blog from my sidebar or click here.

The Belles represent their home counties at the Festival. This year a session for Belle Storytelling was added and several participated. Here the Mason County Belle tells a story about her years as a military wife in Alaska, where she lived for 35 years. These ladies had good stories to tell. I hope this becomes a regular feature of the festival.

The spelling bee drew an almost full-capacity crowd, many to watch and about 20 to participate. I tried! I was fourth from the last one standing, I think, and went down on vinaigrette--I reversed the "ai." Daggone it. I knew better than that. But it was okay since I wanted to attend the shape note singing class anyway and it was almost time for that. I listened to a little of the class and got completely confused, so I left and I went to listen to Janet do her reading.

I invited Janet Smart to be part of our Oral Traditions tent this year. Janet is a new author from my county who writes middle-grade fiction and picture books. One of her books is currently under contract. Janet followed me to blogging and then to Two Lane Livin' and writes a column for children. In this photo, Janet is reading from her picture book "Miss Maizey" while two girls portray the scarecrows in the story. It was fun to watch a story I've helped to edit come to life. It's why a writing group is so important to a writer's career--we help each other to grow.

A little actor shows her stuff, while in the background is one of the many jam sessions that were scattered all over town.

Later in the evening we attended the evening concert that featured some of the finest old-time musicians in the region, and wandered for hours among the many jam sessions which featured some of the same musicians who had been on stage as well as many other fine, fine fiddlers, banjo pickers, guitarists, hammered dulcimer players, mandolin and bass players.

At the State Folk Festival

We're away again, this time at the Glenville Folk Festival. Yesterday was filled with music, stories, more music, good food, and friends.

While we were there, I ran into our friend, herbalist and soapmaker Melissa Dennison who taught me how to make a lavender wand--just in time too, because my lavender is ready right now. The wand is easy to make and so pretty. I'll post pics soon.

We met Rob Worth, who makes the most beautiful dulcimers, and he showed us one that had wood in it from when the Philippi (WV) two-lane covered bridge was remodeled. Pics of Rob and his dulcimers also coming soon.

We listened to a family of musicians, including three children under 12, playing gospel music. The youngest son was quite a singer, and no older than 6 years old. Pics of them on the way tomorrow too.

I sang in the singing tent and told stories in the storytelling tent. We noticed in the program that there was a ghost story swap scheduled in the evening. I was torn between attending that or going up to the Fine Arts Center to hear the master musician's concert. In the end, I opted for the ghost story swap. The room was full when we arrived and the local newspaper's owner, Dave Corcoran, was telling stories about a house he had lived in in Greenbrier county. The he opened the floor for people to tell stories; several people (including me) shared some strange tales.

A surprise of the evening was a drawing for a woodcut picture of one ghost story from Gilmer county, and I won the drawing! When I saw the picture, I was surprised to find that it illustrated a story I knew, about a peddler who had been murdered and beheaded. The group of listeners were a great audience and Mr. Corcoran plans to have the ghost stories again next year. I've volunteered to help, because I think it's a great idea. After the stories, many of the people left to go to the cemetery for more ghost stories, but we have baby turkeys to take care of and needed to come home.

It was hard to leave because everywhere, on every corner, under every tree or porch, it seemed, people were playing music! Bluegrass, old-time, some blues--you name it, a group was playing and singing it. The evening was just past dark, the lightning bugs were out, a slight mist was rising from the river, laughter and talk filled the air, and music wove in and out and around everything.

But at home, the dogs were waiting along with the new kitten, the house was quiet, and the cool evening lured us out onto the porch for a glass of wine and some time to listen to the whippoorwills and other nightbirds calling.

Back to the festival today for more music and fun. See you tomorrow with pictures! And may I;'ll see you in Glenville!

Folk Festival Memories

From the old traditions (the "belles" selected from each county's homemakers clubs)

to the new (young street performers juggling and playing accordion with their companionable dog),

and young ones with their elders playing together in jam sessions on the streets, on corners, under porches, in parking lots and in front of motel rooms--not to mention fiddle contests and masters concerts,

that was the West Virginia Folk Festival at Glenville this weekend.

Did I mention street jams?

and everywhere

everywhere

musical instruments

waiting to be played--








Old-time and bluegrass music, storytelling, balladsinging, parades, good food, crafters, friends and laughter combined into one good time.

Storytelling and the WV State Folk Festival

Unknown musicians performing in a doorway at Glenville.

A big weekend coming up: Storytelling all day Friday, the WV State Folk Festival Oral Traditions tent (not to mention lots of good music!) in Glenville, WV on Saturday, my birthday AND Father's Day on Sunday, and storytelling all day Monday. Whew!

First is tomorrow morning, storytelling at the two libraries in my county. I've thought about what stories to share, worked on some new ones and I think I've got a good program ready to go. This will be the same program I will be using at several libraries this summer:

Since this summer's theme is Get Creative! , I've got lots of room for...creativity! Here are my choices:

Swapping Song-- this is a fun, interactive song that comes from the British Isles and was shortened a bit in the Appalachians.

Magic Paint Brush--a story from China. I will tell it using a whiteboard to draw the various parts of the story--not a draw and tell story, but more a story with illustrations. It teaches the benefit of helping others instead of serving your own greed, but like all good stories the message doesn't beat you over the head.

The Perfect Pet--this is an original story I wrote to go with my three dragon puppets, fairy puppet and king and queen puppet. I think it is going to be a lot of fun to tell. There is a participation chant and of course children from the audience will use the puppets to help tell the story.

How the Dog Chose its Master--a simple tale from India that allows audience participation and again, audience members using puppets to help tell the story.

The Tug of War-- a comic trickster tale from Australia. This story will again be audience participation and the only prop I need is a rope.

Bar the Door-an old British ballad that traveled to the mountains, this is funny and fun, with a lesson about being stubborn.

Fill Bowl! Fill! --a Jack tale from the Appalachian Mountains, and like all Jack tales great fun to tell and to listen to.

How the Vulture Got its Color--a tale from Burma that makes a point about vanity and gratefulness. This is the story I prepared as a flannelboard story, so children can help with the telling.

Aiken Drum--from Scotland, a story and a song about a funny little man. The original ballad was a political statement, but became a nonsensical children's song over the years. I tell the story of the brownie Aiken Drum who came to help out but was insulted by the gift of new clothes, then close the story with the song and a flannelboard. It's good fun and lots of participation in the song and flannelboard.

Of course, I may mix it up with a few alternate stories. I keep a ready supply to be sure what I tell is right for the audience in front of me. But I like this mix of world folktales, Appalachian stories and ballads, flannelboard stories and participation stories. I think it's going to be a lot of fun for all of us, listeners and storyteller.

Saturday is Glenville and the West Virginia State Folk Festival! Traditional mountain music, crafts, country people in town to celebrate, friends, and a lot more at the oldest folk festival in West Virginia. Click here and here to see my posts about last year's festival in Glenville.

So what does the festival have for writers and storytellers?

Plenty! The Oral Traditions Tent at the WV State Folk Festival in Glenville, WV this weekend will feature some of our state's best writers. Here's the schedule of presenters, and remember, the festival is free!

Fred Powers, telling last year as a coal miner. Powerful.

Friday, June 19th:
11am:Kirk Judd (poet)
12:00 Laura Treacy Bentley (poet)
2:00 pm Marc Harshman (poet, storyteller, writer)
3:00 pm Mountain Echoes (storytellers)

Saturday, June 20th:
10 am Fran Schmetzer (local Gilmer County author)
12:00 Susanna Holstein --that would be me :-) (storyteller, poet, writer)
3:00 pm Cat Pleska (storyteller and writer)
4:00 pm Suzi "Mama" Whaples (storyteller)

Here's a link to the festival: www.wvfolkfestival.org/

Will I see you there? I hope so!

Oh, and the birthday/Father's Day? I think we'll see in the summer solstice with a fire in the firepit and a few glasses of wine, then on Sunday morning we'll make pancakes with homemade strawberry syrup, drink coffee on the porch, and maybe get those cabbages in the freezer--and who knows? Maybe I'll get the kraut made too.

If that doesn't sound like a real celebration, remember that I work away from home most of the week, and for me this kind of day is a perfect celebration of why we live in the country.

Storyteller's Journey: on the way to Grafton

We left early Saturday morning for our trip to Tygart Lake State Park to tell stories. We had quite an itinerary planned, and as we traveled, the list of things we wanted to do grew. These storytelling trips become mini-vacations as we stop at places that interest us along the way.

The first stop was in Glenville, at the Common Place restaurant. We found it last week during the West Virginia Folk Festival--a neat little small-town restaurant with great coffee and friendly staff. The place was filled to capacity with people and talk. We grabbed our coffee and headed back to Rte 33 East.

Not far out of Grafton (as we were following a string of motorcycles going 35-30 mph--they were from Virginia and I guess the curves scared them) a blur of black crossed the road. Bear! a small one, probably 200 pounds. He is a small black dot behind the trees on the right in the photo--unfortunately I didn't get a very good shot.





Soon we were in Weston, known for its famous (or infamous) state metal institution that was established when West Virginia was still part of Virginia. A street flea market was in progress, so of course we stopped. I found some treasures for very good prices, but was sad when I got home to discover a blue bottle bought for Ellouise somehow didn't get in my bags. But the lovely cotton print tablecloth from the 30's, a china plate from Silesia (had to look that up on Google), a small tin child's plate with the Big Bad Wolf and Red Riding Hood on it, an old bottle with label for a patent medicine, a piece of amberina glass, and a pretty blue pitcher stamped "made in Japan"--all for $15--made me not feel so bad about the bottle. Next time, Ellouise!



A signpost indicated how far it is from Weston to points west. A long, long way. Weston was actually located close to the geographical population center of the United States in the 1840's--the center has since moved south and west to Missouri. It is now only close to the center of West Virginia; a town that almost died out when the mental hospital closed, Weston is now finding new life in tourism and proximity to an interstate highway. I'm glad--I love small towns, and especially small town downtowns.





About 20 miles east, we passed through Buckhannon as we left Rte 33 and headed north on Rte 20. Buckhannon recently had its city seal painted on a building downtown. It's a lovely painting, but I had to laugh when I realized that the building it was painted on was a tattoo parlor! A building tattoo, perhaps?




We had to turn around and come back to admire this mailbox post made from A-model car parts. Larry identified wheels, fan, and hubs.

As you can see, the trip was a already a blast, and at this point it was only one o'clock in the afternoon! Lots more pics and news from our trip tomorrow.

West Virginia Folk Festival: Day 2

Breakfast at the Common Place Restaurant--good food, and Yankees and Confederates at the same table! 2nd Virginia and 116th Pennsylvania, to be exact. The fact of the matter was there weren't usually enough Yanks to turn out, so this guy dresses in a Yanks uniform although he's actually a Confederate! They were gracious enough to allow my camera to intrude after my husband commented on the oddity of opposing sides at the same table.
Dr. Patrick Gainer's granddaughter, Molly Callame, led a ballad session in the Oral Traditions tent. To hear her daughter and Molly harmonizing--pure, complete pleasure.

I was surprised and delighted to meet a delegation of ladies from my home county (Jackson) in the Oral Traditions tent). This year's Jackson County Belle is in the center of the group.

Larry is admonished by Eleanor Roosevelt, who apparently rose from the grave for the festival.

More storytellers and poets were featured in the Oral Traditions tent. Friday we featured poets Kirk Judd and Sherrell Wigal and storytellers Suzi Whaples and myself. Saturday I was emcee for the tent, and had a great time introducing and listening to the presenters. I also presented a ballad workshop later in the day (pics to come later, I hope).



Storyteller Ilene Evans had a standing-room only crowd that had organizers scrambling to find chairs. Ilene told the story of Wiley and the Hairy Man (you can find a short reader's theatre version here) and the audience sang along with her in the song about a slave who ran to freedom in Lost John (find a plethora of versions here).

Storyteller Fred Powers raised goosebumps with his tale of being trapped by a roof-fall in a coal mine...

and Rich Knoblich kept the crowd engrossed with Soldier Jack. This is one of my favorites of the Jack Tales cycle.

Poet Cheryl Denise read her award-winning poems to the crowd to complete the program.

Glenville had other interesting sites to see too, like this view of the "old road" through town and over the iron bridge, and the tiny Little Kanawha Bank and Trust Building.

I confess I did not take as many photos as I would have liked. Either I was too busy or the camera was where I was not. Some memorable moments not captured on the camera:

• Ilene telling her stories
• Mr. Bill Bennett, wearing his 50-year-old Glenville Lions Club jacket with pride
• a mandolin player in a wheelchair
• a boy of about 5 years singing harmony with a bluegrass group
• children splashing delightedly through a puddle
• the huge group of square dancers
• old-time music icons like Lester McCumbers, John Morris, Jimmy Costa, Patty Looman and many others playing in jams on the streets
• people meeting and greeting everywhere
• and contrasts : the old-time country life of Gilmer County and West Virginia banging up against, and for the most part accommodating, the new trends and generations.

It was an unusual way to spend my birthday, but it was a whole lot of fun!