From Old Woman's Run to Granny's Creek to Tough Cows to Bear Hides

I started here, Old Woman's Run. This is the bridge over it in Sutton, WV, clearly no longer in use--one of the dying breed of old steel bridges. I learned that this little creek ran into Granny's Creek. My curiosity over these names led me a-googling, and here's what I found in addition to what I posted this morning:

Granny's Creek is not at all named for what I thought--no midwifery here, just a plain old hunting story:

From http://www.eg.bucknell.edu/~hyde/jackson/John-Jackson.html :

"Granny's Creek," in Braxton County, received its name when Henry Jackson commenced a [land] survey thereon and one of his hunters named Loudin, killed a buffalo cow, which was so old and tough that the men declared her to be the grandmother of all buffaloes." Now whoever would have thought it?

He lists his source as: Border Settlers of Northwestern Virginia 1768 to 1785, by Lucullus Virgil McWhorter, 1915, reprinted by Jim Comstock, Richwood, West Virginia, 1974, as part of The West Virginia Heritage Encyclopedia, page 382.

Looking a little more into it, I found the following on Rootsweb:

John Davisson Sutton, founder of Sutton, Braxton Co., West Virginia, kept "a small pocket diary" in which under date of 1796 at Alexandria, Virginia, "he speaks of teaching a school in South Carolina, and of coming to Alexandria where his father and brother, James, lived. At his father's request, he made a trip to what is now Braxton county to look at some lands which his father had bought out of the John Allison survey, lying on Granny's creek [sic] and the Elk river. He relates that he came by Winchester and Lewisburg, thence to Charleston. At Charleston, he hired a canoe and procured the assistance of a riverman to bring him to Elk river to the mouth of Big Birch. He then crossed the country to the home of a Mr. Carpenter on Laurel creek."-- Callahan, James Morton, History of West Virginia, Old and New, [The] (American Historical Society, Chicago and New York: 1923), p.129. [University of Texas at Austin (Main Library), Post Office Box P, Austin, Texas 78713-8916, Dewey -- 975.4 C13h v.1, v.2, v.3.]

And then this from http://familytreemaker.genealogy.com/users/r/e/n/Betty-D-Renick/GENE26-0001.html:
"My great grandfather (Richard Dotson) had a friend living near Sutton. His name was Mr. Sutton and the town was Sutton, W.Va, and was named for him. Grandfather went to Sutton to hunt on his tract of land. I do not know the length of the stay -- but while there, he killed 63 bears. Mr. Sutton kept the bear meat for his share. Grand dad brought home the bear hides for his share. "Old Dobbins", the horse, pulled the sled from Sutton to Toll Gate. Grand dad and Old Dobbins took the hides to Parkersburg, W.Va, and sold them to a Flat Boat man, and he took them to New Orleans, Louisiana and they were put on the world market."

Ah, the dangers of roaming about in Google.

Shooting Stars

Leaving the house at 6:00 am has to have some reward--and I got two lovely ones today.

The first was that the stars were so bright in the thankfully cool morning air (thankful because cool air has been a rare treat this summer). We could see Venus and Orion's Belt so clearly, even the Seven Sisters were out. (at least, I think that's what those stars were--I'm never 100% certain if I've actually identified the right stars. I know I had Orion right, and pretty sure about Venus...).

Just before I reached the interstate, the most beautiful shooting star flashed across the sky. Usually they are gone so fast that I only have time to suck in my breath in awe. But this one trailed a beautiful sparkling tail. It honestly didn't look real, it was so bright, lasted so long and the trail--I've never seen anything like it.

Of course, it was a meteor, not a star, that I saw. I looked online for a picture of one that looked similar, but although I found many, none of them showed that sparkling tail.

There are many myths about the Seven Sisters and their origin in the night sky; twelve stories originate from Australia alone.

Shooting stars have many superstitions attached to them. Here are some I know:
*wish on a shooting star and your wish will come true
*seeing a shooting star brings good luck
*a shooting star is a soul going to heaven (someone just died is a less optimistic way of looking at it!
* a variation on this: if the star is going left--going to hell; if right--going to heaven.
*a soul just left purgatory (Creole)
*a baby is being born
*pass a washcloth over pimples while a shooting star is falling to cure them (French)
*a soul is trying to contact you
* many Native American beliefs are included on this webpage. (Scroll down to find them.) The page includes this intriguing legend:

(from the Menomini of the Great Lakes region)

When a star falls from the sky
It leaves a fiery trail.
It does not die.
Its shade goes back to its own place to shine again.
The Indians sometimes find the small stars
where they have fallen in the grass.

Storytelling Sources

I am sometimes asked for sources of stories by those who are interested in telling tales themselves. Where can stories be found? They're everywhere, in every place we travel and in every person we meet. They're in books certainly, but also online, in the local newspaper, in the classified ads, on the staff bulletin board.

How can these stories be found? By not only hearing but listening, not only looking but seeing, not only touching but feeling. And by asking questions and listening to the response. How often have you seen a TV personality ask a guest a question, only to continue to talk, interrupt and ask more questions before the guest has a chance to answer?

Many people seem to like the TV show called The View. I find annoying in the extreme as the stars of the show try to outshout each other in desperate efforts to get the most attention from the audience and the camera.

This past weekend at a farm auction I was standing by an older man and discussing the items being sold. I said I'd like to have the old wood ironing board, and he said he used to have one like it. He proceeded to tell me the story of the Coon and Possum Dog (read a version of it here), a tall tale that's been told in the mountains for years. I tell it myself, and that's why I wanted the ironing board. But here he was, telling the story as a current joke, and telling it well--he could be a professional storyteller, but I'd bet he doesn't even know there is such a thing.

He told me several more stories and jokes that afternoon, for the pure pleasure of sharing them. And I listened, for the pure pleasure of hearing the tales told so well.

Stories? They're everywhere. Listen--you may be hearing one right now.

A Story about Jack

Jack went out hunting, and he had a good day. He'd used up all his shot and his gamebag was full. He sat down to eat his lunch--a sackful of ripe peaches.

As he sat there, he saw the biggest buck he'd ever seen in his entire life. Its antlers branched out so far they blocked the sunlight, and that buck must have stood seventeen hands high. Jack reached for his gun, and then he remembered. He was out of shot.

Now some people would have cursed their luck, stomped around, cried, or blamed someone else for not having any shot left to shoot that big deer. But not Jack--he wasn't the kind of feller to let little things like that concern him. No, sir. Jack commenced to looking for an alternative solution to the situation at hand.

And he found it, right on the ground in front of him. Peach pits. Jack gathered up the peach seeds from his lunch and rammed them down the barrel of his gun, shoved in the wadding and powder and took aim.

Jack was a good shot. No, he was a great shot. No, he was an EXPERT shot. He hit that buck square between the eyes. But the buck just flinched, shook his head and ran off into the brush.

It didn't worry Jack too much. He had a bagful of game and he was too tired to drag a deer down the mountain anyway. He went whistling on home and cooked up a fine supper of squirrel gravy, fried rabbit and such as that. He forgot about that buck before his stomach was full.

A year later Jack found himself hunting in the same woods. He sat down to eat, and there in front of him he saw a magnificent peach tree. It was loaded with ripe, juicy peaches. Jack never could pass up a peach, so he jumped up and commenced to climbing up that tree.

He just got to the top where the ripest peaches were, when that tree stood up! That was when Jack realized that this wasn't an ordinary peach tree.

Remember the buck he shot? Well, one of the peach pits Jack had shot at that buck had lodged between the buck's antlers and grown into a full-sized peach tree right there on the buck's head!

That ol' buck shook his head, and sent Jack flying off--but not before Jack shoved about a dozen peaches into his pockets. Jack went on home and made him a peach cobbler.

And if no one's shot him, that buck is walking the woods yet.

I've been reading about the new thing in education--21st Century Learning Skills. It's a new approach to learning with a goal of better preparing kids to deal with tomorrow's world. North Carolina and West Virginia are the first two states to implement it.

I read through the CSOs for WV, and guess what? Narrative skills and writing are all though them, in every grade level. Suddenly storytelling is gaining strong attention by educators, it seems, because kids need to be able to speak and write well, and current methods aren't achieving that goal.

Last week I did a presentation for a Title 1 program. The organizer had packets of information for all the parents, teachers and principals who attended. In the packet were articles by Heather Forest, Marni Gillard, and one on digital storytelling, along with the handouts I'd sent her. Apparently Title 1 is also recognizing the value of storytelling to learning to read? or was this lady unique?

The same day I spent the entire school day at a middle school telling stories. The gig was the result of a presentation I did for the state teachers union. I have another scheduled from that same event.

So I am feeling encouraged by what I experienced at the conference. At the middle school, the teachers told me what I was doing fit perfectly with what they were teaching about writing. The kids, of course, were great! One of the 7th graders told me I was the "ultimate storyteller." It was actually the other way around--they were the ultimate audience.

I feel encouraged that perhaps teachers are beginning to understand what storytelling can do in the classroom, and what it can do for their students' achievement level. I'd be willing to bet there are some teachers out there who have known it all along.

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.