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Showing posts with label Jonesborough. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jonesborough. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

National Storytelling Festival: Storytelling and Friends

The Eureka Inn in downtown Jonesborough is the place I wish I could stay--right in the middle of the action. But it's booked for years in advance.
I wrote a long post last night about the National Storytelling Festival last night, only to have it vanish into thin air. The joys of Blogger. So here is the condensed version:

The National Storytelling Festival was held this past week in historic Jonesborough, Tennessee.
Although the festival begins earlier in the week, this year I could only be there for part of saturday and all day Sunday. I was determined to make the most of my time and at the end, I felt full of stories, friendship and new ideas.

My first festival stop was the National Storytelling Network tent; I'd volunteered to work a couple hours on Saturday because I knew we'd get to Jonesborough late and I did not want to pay $100 to see one or two sets; call me cheap, but ya know...

Working the tent I met people, saw friends, re-learned why the organization is important to me, and just enjoyed myself. Lorna Czarnota stopped by and during a slow time we swapped ballads. When my work time was up, we moved to the ISC steps and continued singing. We met Baba the Storyteller and Eric Wolf there; Baba sang a song from Africa for us. They left, and Adam Booth (a wonderful young WV storyteller) joined us. Adam knew a few ballads so we continued singing and talking and laughing.


With storyteller Lorna Czarnota. I enjoyed her original songs, written in the ballad tradition.

After Lorna left for home I drifted around J'boro for a while, stopped in at a coffee shop and listened to a guy called Lightnin' Charlie play guitar and sing for an audience of locals. He was a fine performer, funny, a great singer and they all knew him well enough to ask how his wife was doing (baby expected in 5 weeks). Lightnin' Charlie said he's selling his limo, so if you're in the market, there ya go! He said if you saw a limo at the Wal-Mart, you knew Lightnin' Charlie was there. What an image.



No, I wasn't feeling that fuzzy, but my camera sure was. I don't like this little Nikon--it can be so good and so bad and I never know which it will be at any given time.


Later Saturday night I found Karen Chace coming up the hill to start the Storytell get-together. Storytell is on online discussion list for storytellers, and during the 12+ years I've been a member I have made many longlasting friendships among its members. We get together at conferences and festivals, and whenever an opportunity presents itself. Now yall, that party was a hoot! I met new people, old friends and the talk was just a delight. Several were Facebook friends I'd never met. Too much fun.


Karen taking a picture as I took a picture of her.

Two weary storytellers trudge through the evening mist toward the car for the journey to the motel about 5 miles away.

Around midnight I met my tripmates and we drove to our hotel, completely tired and happy.

Note to self--never share a room with two other over-50 ladies again! Everyone was up and down all night for all sorts of reasons, not the least of which was the commode overflowing at 3am. One of the rules set by one of the ladies was: no men in the room. Ha! She was glad to see the maintenance MAN at 3am :-) Little sleeping went on, but a whole lot of laughing sure did.

Sunday morning (after the tempestuous and pretty much sleepless Night of the O'erflowing Commode) we were back in town early for the NSN membership meeting and national awards ceremony. My friend Bob McWhorter, who started the WV storytelling festival and drew most of us state storytellers out of the woodwork, received the Mid-Atlantic Oracle Award for his service to storytelling.


Bob, Jane Crouse of Virginia and our regional liaison, and a lady whose name I can't recall

I spent the day listening to as many tellers as possible. Sunday's stories are loosely categorized as "sacred" stories, and the tellers interpreted that term in many different ways.

My favorite?--so hard to pick one. Niall De Burca from Ireland was probably top of my list. He was exciting, energetic, engaging and thank goodness told a folktale or two. (Folktales, at least in the tents where I was listening, seemed to be a scarce commodity).

Regi Carpenter from New York state told masterfully about her childhood on the St. Lawrence River and sang beautifully. Kathryn Windham at 91 years old held us spellbound and received standing ovations and brought tears to my eyes with her gracious humility. Donald Davis kept us laughing and crying with his tale of alementary-school valentines, and Baba Jamal Koram took us with him on a journey of discovery and unde. Sheila Kay Adams managed to work through a LONG train running through her story as she told in a tent very near the railroad tracks--and to the delight of the small boy seated near me, and apparently made a rude gesture when the train went on and on and on...her idea of sacred stories obviously being a little different that what you might expect :-). There were more tellers, all good, but these were highlights for me.

The very best part of the festival, as always, was seeing so many friends again. It has been five years since I've attended a conference, and two since I was at J'boro, and I was so glad to be able to hug and be hugged and knowing that we are as we always have been, very good friends, even though we are often far apart.

Monday, October 5, 2009

National Storytelling Festival: Sights

Ah, Jonesborough, Tennessee, the mecca for storytellers and story lovers from all over the United States! The tiny town comes alive each October when thousands of people visit to hear stories and enjoy the beauty of this oldest town in Tennessee.

Some traveled the festival streets in style. Me? I walked. And walked. And walked. It's good for me, right? Wish my feet agreed with that.


In front of the International Storytelling Center is Doc McConnell's Medicine Show wagon. From the festival's beginning in the mid-1970's, Doc was a fixture. He passed away this year but his wagon was there as a monument and testimony to his memory. What a man he was. Many people recorded stories in front of the wagon, recalling past festival memories.

Tents were filled to overflowing. I snapped this during a break since photography is not allowed inside the tents during performances. Each tent seats about 1000 people, and each one I saw was nearly full. Sundays usually have lighter attendance than the other festival days.

In the Courthouse Tent, the train tracks are very close by. During one session a train that was surely one of the longest in history decided to pass by in the middle of Sheila Kay Adams' story about the aunts who decided to change a relative's suit--when he was in the coffin. Squealing brakes and chuffing cars caused a long pause in the story, which sure drew out our anticipation of the possible ramifications the aunts might face in their endeavor. What a story. And true, or so Sheila Kay claims. I believe her. People can and will do the most amazing things.


The Festival's end. Streets emptied fast as listeners and tellers trudged to their cars to begin the journey home.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

National Storytelling Festival : Friday

Home again after a great weekend. Our plan worked--at least until the trip home. More about that later.



Since we could only be at the festival a short time, and since one of my primary goals was to be able to visit with friends, we only purchased tickets for two events: Friday night Midnight Cabaret and Saturday night Ghost Stories. A friend had to cancel her B&B reservation, so we were able to stay at the lovely Holly Haven. We would rest and be fed in a beautiful setting.


We left later on Friday than anticipated--work has a way of intervening in other plans. Even so, we stopped at Beckley at our favorite antique mall to browse. We continue to add to our coal mining collection, and this stop yielded a miners safety lamp, self-rescuer, and tag pin.


So it was late when we arrived at Holly Haven. We checked in (after a few passes up and down the road looking for the driveway) and didn't even stop to unload--just took off for Jonesborough.


The first person we saw on the street was storyteller Ed Stivender. A quick hug and how-are-you and we continued on our way to pick up our tickets. Once our business was complete we could slow down a little. We found a coffee shop and picked up a couple of cups, carried them to a bench outside, and engaged in our favorite occupation--people-watching.


We didn't see any familiar faces, but storyteller Janet Ross of Tennessee stopped, offered M&M's and we fell into conversation about, of all things, funerals we have known and wakes (she calls it "calling hours"). I found that West Virginia isn't the only place where strange things happen at these events, although I think my tale of the stun gun fight at the funeral of a local man probably topped our impromptu swap.


Then it was time for the Midnight Cabaret. The tent filled quickly and we pulled a couple chairs to the side so we had a good view of the stage.


Sheila Kay Adams is one of my favorite performers. I could listen for hours to her ballad-singing. She opened with Pretty Saro, a ballad of love and loneliness, but the change of dates at the beginning of the song (1732 instead of 1849) startled me, and the melody was slightly different too. I decided that I could live with the way she sang it (as if my opinion made a difference!) and settled in to listen to the rest of the set.


We headed back to the car, chilled by the night air, and made our way to Holly Haven to unpack, unwind and sleep.
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