Storytellers Christmas Coming Soon! Stories, Poems, Folktales and More

I can't wait! Tomorrow begins Storytellers Christmas!

From now until Christmas I will be posting stories, poems and more from storytellers all across the US (and who knows, maybe some from overseas will join in the fun). I've asked my friends in the storytelling world to share their stories with you, my readers, during this joyous season. Many have responded already, and more stories are coming in every day.

I hope you enjoy this gift of the season--and if you would like to share a story too, please send me an email to susannaholstein@yahoo.com and I will make sure your story is posted. You can also send a photo or image to go with your story and if you like, contact information and a brief bio.

And your stories do not have to be about Christmas--they can be any holiday memory, or stories from other religious or cultural beliefs. I want everyone to be part of this time of giving.

Following Storytellers Christmas, we will have "A Writers New Year". I've invited writing friends to send stories, poems, memoirs, etc to be posted from Boxing Day (day after Christmas) through New Year's Day. I am looking forward to some excellent reading in the coming weeks. And again, if you would like to participate, just let me know. (Cousin John, I'd love a story from you for either event!)

I am so looking forward to this!

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

The Story Trail: Kentucky and Fairmont

It's been a storied month for this old lady. Typically I have a few events in November but this year really piled them on and it's been a fun ride.

The Kentucky Storytelling Conference was outstanding as always. Part of my commitment to storytelling is to connect with storytellers in the states in my region, either online or face-to-face when possible. I much prefer face-to-face, of course, and conferences are one way to see and hear other tellers and maintain relationships that otherwise must rely on computer communications.

Jo Ann Dadisman and I traveled together and we had a great time. She was presenting this year, while I was simply going to get new ideas, hear great stories, and see friends. It's rare for me to go to a conference at which I don't have any responsibilities, and it was fun to just sit back and do what I wanted for a change. The workshop on using all five senses in a story echoed what I have taught myself but as always there were new ideas and things to be learned. I also attended Jo Ann's session on developing stories from family history; I have been telling more family stories in recent years and Jo Ann was right on target with her suggestions for breathing life into the people of the past. I actually sat out one session, taking a break to do a little writing and take a short nap. I was definitely into making this a leisurely experience!

The story swaps at the Kentucky conference are some of the best I've ever attended and I was a happy listener, preferring for once not to tell myself. One of the most intriguing things about storytelling is how unique each teller is in their method of presentation--how they use their voice, gestures, body language, eye contact, and words to shape what they want the audience to see (both actually and mentally) and remember. Young, old, fat, skinny, tall, short are all unimportant in storytelling--how a teller makes his/her story compelling and involving is key. So an evening of storytelling is constantly stimulating and surprising because the audience usually does not know just what the next teller will do.

On our way home, Jo Ann and I hammered out the details for the workshop and concert we were hosting the next weekend. It was a good thing we had that car time because we had a lot of loose ends to tie up!

It all came together in the end though. We had a fantastic concert, one where the performances dovetailed so neatly together that it seemed as if we'd all rehearsed together, which of course we did not (storytellers rarely do that). I MC'd the evening concert that featured our workshop presenter Susan Gordon, poet Kirk Judd, Jo Ann and me. We had lots of volunteer help to handle refreshments and book/CD sales, and the Folklife Center at Fairmont State University was a perfect venue. Dr. Judy Byers made us at home in her facility and did everything she could to make things go well. I was thrilled to see old friends Bob McWhorter and Betty Bea Cox, who were the moving forces behind the first West Virginia storytelling festivals, and who got many storytellers, myself included, started on the right path.

The workshop was fascinating. Susan Gordon led us through exercises that led us deep into the heart of the stories we brought to the class. I was startled to find new insights into a story I have loved since childhood but never told. There were several in the class who were new to storytelling and that was exciting. We were very happy that we had full registration for this workshop and it makes me want to plan another in the future. Success breeds energy, doesn't it?

I returned home Saturday evening tired but very satisfied, with a new story that will soon be added to my repertoire. The best part of all was having time with other storytellers. It is, after all, the people in our lives who make it all worthwhile, and I soaked up their creativity and excitement as fuel for my own storytelling fire.


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

Home from Travels, and Time to Share

From left: volunteer Sharon Rogers, Lynn Ruehlmann, me, Andy Offut Irwin,
Jerry Ingham,  Donna Ingham, Kevin Kling, and volunteers Cassie, Cherie,
David and Tamra. In front, a young teller from Florida and Robin Bady

Finally I have a little time to catch up here. The trip home from Salt Lake City was longer than anticipated due to flight delays and a canceled flight that meant staying overnight in a hotel in Cleveland. Another delay in the morning but by Tuesday afternoon I was home at last.

There is nothing like travel to broaden one's world view, even when the travel keeps us within our own country. I had never seen Utah before, so I was pretty excited to be able to see this unique part of our country. But even more than the anticipation of going to a new place, I was looking forward to being among storytellers again.

There is an energy that seems to emanate from tellers. Perhaps it is because our minds are always visualizing what people say to us and making their words into stories. Perhaps it is because storytellers tend to be very good listeners--all good stories start with having heard something that sparks an idea. Whatever the reason, conversation among tellers is always lively, usually surprising, often funny or touching and engaging on every level. Someone might say jelly donut and the jokes, stories, and memories will start, often seguing into related topics. "Doughnuts? I remember my grandmother making doughnuts one morning," someone might begin, "and the dog jumped up on the counter and ate all of them.The tracked jelly looked like blood on the floor and we thought granny was bleeding and someone called 911." Another might follow with, "I had a dog that ate tomatoes and he would slobber red juice all over the place, people thought he had rabies." And another, "Rabies? Did you hear about the guy..." and so it goes. Story after story after story. (This was not an actual conversation, mind--this is my storytelling brain riffing off the jelly doughnut and ending up with rabies. you can see how it works!)

Lyyn, Andy, Regi Carpenter, and the young teller

I was in some of the best storytelling company in the country last weekend. I was thrilled when I heard that my friends Lynn Ruehlmann and Robin Bady were also presenting. We spent a weekend together last year working on stories and I have not had a chance to see them since. What a combination we are--Robin lives in New York City and tells many stories of life there as well as tales from her Jewish heritage. Lynn comes from Norfolk, VA and deftly weaves Greek myths through her family stories. And then you have me, living deep in the hills and telling stories and singing ballads from our mountains. An unlikely combination, perhaps, but we rock it.

Regi, Andy, Kevin and Robin

The other featured tellers brought their own particular style to the conference. Andy Offut Irwin travels all over the country telling stories from his native Georgia, often in the voice of his fictional Aunt Marguerite and her cronies. His stream-of-consciousness, hilarious style has to be experienced to be believed. Kevin Kling was there too, and this was my first time to hear him. Funny, intelligent and thought-provoking, Kevin turns a disability into ability--the ability to entertain, to make us stretch our thinking and reach beyond the what is to the what if. Pure listening pleasure.

Robin doing what she does best--connecting 

I was so glad to hear Regi Carpenter present her program, "Snap," a lyrical piece about a teenager's slide into mental illness; I just wish I had been able to attend her workshop following the presentation. Noa Baum took us on a journey into her life as a young Israeli soldier and her later unlikely friendship with a Palestinian woman. I only heard Steffani Raff in the final concert, and mercy did she have us going with tales of growing up that we can all relate to. And Donna Ingham! That Texas lady can spin a tale, yall, tall or true or in between. I was so glad to meet her husband Jerry too; I've known Donna for years although our trails don't cross often--Facebook keeps us in touch and I am so thankful for that medium.

Beyond the group of us who came to present, there were all the others who came to volunteer or to attend the workshops and concerts. I finally got to meet some people I've only known online. How amazing to put faces and voices to their words! There were many new faces and voices too, and I look forward to continuing those conversations and friendships online as well.

Tomorrow, I'll show you some of what I saw while I was there. I know you'll find it as fascinating as I did.

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

Sistersville Storytellers Retreat and Willow Island

I haven't had a chance yet to tell you about the storytellers' retreat last weekend. What can I say? It was awesome. A dozen or so storytellers, some with their spouses, traveled to the Wells Inn in Sistersville to share a weekend of fellowship and stories. The weather was not promising: there were reports of violent storms and heavy rains, with a possibility of snow in the forecast. We ventured forth anyway.

And everyone arrived safely, despite one couple having to help move a large tree out of the road and another traveling miles out of her way trying to find a bridge across the Ohio River. She was from Pittsburgh where bridges are everywhere, but along the Ohio it might be 20 miles before another bridge is found.

We spent the first evening having dinner in the hotel and just talking. We made a circle of chairs in front of the gas fireplace, opened a few bottles of wine and planned our weekend, telling a few stories and singing a few songs along the way. Since this retreat was my brainchild last year, I do most of the groundwork and this year that included a concert of Celtic stories at the Gaslight Theater in town. Eleven tellers were on the list to tell. How to crowd all of them into two hours, have a few sing-alongs and have an intermission? Only one way can that happen: short stories. So that is what we planned.

Saturday morning, after a good breakfast (the food at the Inn is outstanding; we were well fed all weekend) we broke into 3 groups to work on stories. Some wanted to work on the story they would be telling that night. Others had other things with them they wanted to share for feedback and suggestions. The morning was productive for my group as we worked on stories for the evening and a historical story told from the perspective of an old house.

Lunch break was long enough to allow us to check out the theater, double-check the sound system (I'd set mine up the day before) and browse theater owner Terry Wiley's antique shop. I came away with a few finds, of course. Then we met again in new groups, getting more feedback and hearing new stories. The afternoon passed quickly and it was soon time to break for dinner. Good food again, then change for the evening concert. A couple decided to take a tour of the Greenwood Cemetery, a place well worth visiting for its history and beautiful monuments. The sense of the past is strong in the cemetery with its view over the town and the river.

 

As we waited to begin, we wondered if we'd have an audience. After all the annual Lincoln's Day Dinnner was being held, there was a wrestling match and other events in the small town. And it was really cold too. Who would come out on such a night to hear stories?

We should not have worried. As the tellers for the first half settled onstage, about 40 people came to the theater and all stayed for the duration of the concert. It was a fabulous time--songs, stories, laughter, some eerie tales, a few historical, and all excellent. I was sorry when it was over and I believe the audience was too as many stayed around afterward to chat with the storytellers and urge Terry to host more such events.

We went back to the hotel very happy and ready for more stories. The chairs were drawn up to the fire again and stories and songs were soon flowing. Some of us who held on til late got a tour of the lower regions of this supposedly haunted hotel. Late night conversations continued until after midnight.

Morning came too soon for me! But I was up and at breakfast by 8:30. As we ate we discussed ideas for the future and for more retreats like this one. There is nothing as creatively energizing as spending time with people who share the same passion, is there? I hope some of the ideas we bounced around actually come to pass. But if not, I will look forward to next year in this tiny town by the river, its welcoming hotel, eager audiences, and the enveloping sense of history that make Sistersville the perfect place for our retreat.

I had to make a detour on the way home to investigate an abandoned church that had caught my eye some time ago.This is located at Willow Island. Looking through the building through the missing windows is sad, isn't it? The bell is still in the steeple. I don't know the name of this church, and couldn't get too close because there were signs marking it as private property.

The cooling towers of the Willow Island power plant loom behind, an odd juxtaposition of present and past. These are the cooling towers where 51 men lost their lives in 1976, a disaster I wrote about briefly when I first began blogging. I think about them every time I pass by on Route 2.

A bit down the road is this former bus station that was turned into a post office. Now it too is abandoned. This is such an art deco building  with tile roof and fancy brickwork. It is sad to see such a structure left to rot away. I had to drive through, of course! There was no sign to say this was private property although I'm sure I was trespassing when I was poking around here.
I could not help but wonder how much mail had gone through this slot, how many cars and of what vintage had driven through the post office to pick up mail, and even  how many passengers waited on a greyhound in the shade of that canopy.

Inside I was surprised to see a fireplace! Not at all what you might expect in a bus station or post office is it?

I have always wanted to see someone take this little place and make it into a coffee shop or antique store, but reality reminds me that it is located in a lonesome place nowhere near a town, and even the closest towns are small. Who would drive out to this place for coffee, especially with the American Cyanamid plant right across the road? That plant, by the way, was involved in a notorious sterilization lawsuit brought by female workers in 1979. Perhaps there were reasons for the empty buildings located near a plant with admitted potential toxic hazards? I don't know, but there is an odd ghost town feeling to the area with the abandoned church, the old post office/bus stop and a few other empty houses in the area.

A sign beside the crumbled brick gatepost to the bus station pointed the way to St. John's Presbyterian Cemetery. The peeling paint made it difficult to read but when I saw that the cemetery was established in 1840 I wanted to have a look. I ventured down the narrow track only to discover the way blocked by a gate and a sign that said there was a shooting range beyond, for American Cyanamid workers only. I backed out and left, wondering if the families with ancestors in those graves had to call ahead and make arrangements to visit.

Further reading when I got home led to an article about slavery along the river, written by the researcher and historian Henry Burke. Apparently the very area I explored was once a plantation owned by the Henderson family, and their graves may well have been in the two cemeteries in the region, or perhaps at the one church that seemed to have quite an active congregation which was located just before the post office building. I wished that I had known this bit of the area's history prior to stopping, but then maybe I will have to explore further on another day.

Willow Island. It sounds so romantic, and yet the reality and history left me feeling sad as I pulled away and headed home.

Tellabration!

The storytellers gathered. The audience rustled in their seats. The lights dimmed. The stories began.

There was laughter, there were tears, there was awe and thoughtful silence and hearty applause.

And now it's over for another year.

This year I was invited to participate in two Tellabration events, one just across the river in Ohio and one in southern West Virginia. (Storytellers are usually not paid for Tellabration events--the goal is to raise awareness of storytelling, to attract new listeners and if possible to raise money for local storytelling guilds.) I was happy to be part of this annual "international day of storytelling." The event continues to grow each year as more and more Tellabration sites are added.

Granddaughter Hannah was with me and she captured a few photos:

The end of the Ohio Tellabration as the storytellers gathered onstage to sing "We Wish you a Merry Christmas." We had a Christmas theme for our event because the county flower show was being held in the same space and we were surrounded by beautiful holiday flower arrangements. It was a nice combination.
From left: Athens Ohio storyteller Thomas Burnett, Marge Cornell of Columbus, OH, me, Donna Wilson of Middleport, OH (event organizer), Mike Welsh of Reedsville, OH, and Curtis Spencer (Donna's son) of Pomeroy, OH.

Tom Burnett told a great, traditional Jack tale. He has the perfect voice and outfit for the story!

Well, it was a serious story!

Marge, on the other hand, told a funny story about a family reunion. She started the evening on just the right note.

Curtis Spencer was telling for the first time, and I hope he continues. He did an outstanding job describing a grown man's addiction to Hot Wheels. Who would have guessed it is men and not little boys who crowd the racks when new ones come out?

Donna did double duty as MC and storyteller and did a great job at both. Her energy is enviable!

Mike Welsh is a retired Ohio State Trooper who says he's actually a poet, but bills himself as a storyteller because the word "poet" frightens off a lot of people. He's probably right. I would call him a performance poet. He writes original poetry and recites it in a storytelling form. He told me that he does most of his work for churches. He's a talented, mesmerizing performer. 

After the storytelling, several of us adjourned to the local bed and breakfast, The Downing House (where Mark Twain was once a guest) to celebrate with a glass of wine and Donna's homemade lemon bars--what a treat. Then it was back in the car and home again to see my oldest son and grandson who had arrived for their annual deer-hunting trip.

This morning I made a good country breakfast for our company--oldest son, grandson, and two granddaughters. We enjoyed a slow start to the day, then it was time for me and granddaughter Hannah to set off for Beckley, WV which is about 100 miles from my home. We got there early and had time to browse one of my favorite antique malls. I liked watching 13-year-old Hannah in the store--she certainly has a definite sense of her personal style. She drooled over a vintage chrome and yellow plastic dinette set from the 50's and bought a yellow and white creamer and sugar set with its own matching tray. She wants a black and yellow kitchen, she says, when she has her own place, and would love to have a Murphy bed. 

Then we headed over to the Tamarack Arts Center, West Virginia's premier arts showcase and site of the Tellabration, which is held every year in the facility's theater. 

Tellers today were Jason Burns of Morgantown, WV, me, Fred Powers of Bluefield, WV and Sue Atkinson of Beckley, WV. Jodie French-Burr was our organizer and MC and we didn't get her in the photo, unfortunately. She did a great job, including quotes about storytelling and encouraging the audience to tell stories of their own.

Hannah was fascinated by the large plastic rat Fred Powers uses as a prop for his tales of life in the coal mines. Today he told stories of two brothers who were miners; one fought for the Union and one for the Confederacy during the Civil War.

Fred tells the story of the battle of the Crater from the viewpoint of a miner-turned-soldier. Compelling, as Fred always is.

Sue entertained with tales of a cat funeral and "elder laments" as I call them, of some of the surprises of aging.

Ghost stories are Jason's specialty and he didn't disappoint, with two tales of strange places and events. His ghost tour of the WVU campus a month ago had 100 people in attendance. He knows his ghosts.

I became suddenly blonde in the theater's lighting! I've always wondered how it would feel to be blonde...

The stories ended, and we made our way homeward, filled with stories. Rain and fog made it a slow journey but I had three storytelling CDs to listen to and that made the trip easier. It felt good to finally see the lights of home. Tellabration was over, for another year.

Full, Full Days

Stories, stories, stories. I am wallowing in a richness of stories.

The past two days I was at Jackson's Mill, WV, telling stories to busloads of school children from area elementary schools. I do not have words to describe how it feels to see their eyes intently following the stories, their laughter, their smiles and sighs. And not just the children, but the teachers and bus drivers too.

Storytellers Adam Booth, Ilene Evans, Marc Harshman and I filled the days with stories. Tales of Jack, of Mutsmag, of Tam Lin and more floated on the fall air like the falling leaves of the trees, and were just as full of rich color.

Adam is a young teller, relatively speaking. In this profession many sport gray hair. Adam is not even 30 years old but is one of the fast-rising young stars in storytelling circles. A professor of musicology, he somehow finds time in his schedule to spin some of the best stories I've ever heard. I love to work with him because he is flexible, open to the audience and so joyful in his work.

Ilene Evans has been telling stories for a long time. I was delighted to hear her tell her bilingual story La Hormiguita, the very first story I ever heard from her, this week. Multi-lingual and multi-racial, Ilene is a founder of Voices from the Earth; her current big project is a Civil War saga of an experimental settlement of former slaves during and after the war that set out to prove that blacks could learn quickly and could support themselves and bear arms for their country. It's a huge undertaking and totally fascinating.

Marc Harshman is a children's author with about a dozen titles to his credit. His story called Rocks in My Pockets is one of the finest examples of the mountaineer spirit you are likely to encounter. My favorite book by Marc is called Uncle James, and explores the relationship of a small boy with his alcoholic uncle. It's not for everyone, but I believe it's a necessary, and poignant, story. Marc is a stellar storyteller; his rendition of Mutsmag, the mountain girl who outwits child-eating giants, had the children mesmerized.

And then there was me. Since Adam and Marc did such a great job covering Appalachian tales, I decided to tell some folktales from other world cultures. I started with an Arabic welcome song, done as an echo song so the children sang back each line to me. Then I told a Nazarene story from the mid-East. Nasruddin is a "wise fool" which means he's nobody's fool. I moved on to a song from the Tamil region of India and then to a story from India about how the peacock came to be. From there I told a story from China about how the peacock and the crow got their colors, then went to Scotland to tell the story of Tam Lin in song and narrative--this is a story of a young man bewitched by the fairy queen and how a girl helps him escape the thrall of the queen. It is hands down one of my favorite tales. I ended by bringing the children back home to West Virginia by having them visualize their favorite place in our state, then closing their eyes and imagining that place as I sang a verse from Hazel Dickens' song, West Virginia, My Home.

Ah, what a time it was. Now I am home, catching up on email and Facebook and eBay, and getting ready to leave again tomorrow to do a day of Appalachian stories for a school not too far away. What a life.I love it.

Blarney!

Yvonne Healy is a cultural crossover. Born in Ireland but emigrated to the US with her parents as a young child, she has a foot--and a heart--in both countries. Her new CD, Blarney, weaves her memories of the people and places of both countries into a seamless journey of truth, imaginings, and mythological adventures.

As a cultural blend of England and America myself, I understand the pull of the old traditions and heritage. I was born and raised in the US, but my English mother made certain that we were well grounded in English traditions. Healy's parents, the first on either her mother or father's side to leave the old country, made a new home in America and their young daughter immersed herself in American culture. She forgot the Irish language she once knew, but then she grew up and Ireland called to her in stories.

Listening to Blarney! is like sitting in a pub and hearing story after story, interspersed with a little music. What is true and what is not? The listener must decide. Did her grandfather really come to America once? Was her grandmother truly so outrageous? The people Healy describes come alive--comic, tragic and all-too-human. Her unique voice lends authenticity to folktales of heroes and magic. Healy moves effortlessly from story to story, voice to voice, comic to heroic to touching, taking us on her journey to places she knows well--the Ireland of folklore and the Ireland of her heritage..

Blarney! is filled with stories you will want to listen to again and again. And that's no blarney.

This CD is available on Healy's website, and on CDBaby as a downloadable MP3.

Good-bye, Blue

Photo is from Brother Blue's website, www.brotherblue.com

I remember the first time I saw him,
an ageless man in
flowing blue robes and butterflies.
Butterflies everywhere.

He came up to me and took my hand.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
I smiled and stammered something silly
because compliments so direct are as hot
as a coal in my hand. Others passing
smiled at my embarrassment. They knew Blue, you see.
He insisted, “You really are beautiful.
You are a gift. A gift.”

Later I learned his name was Blue.
Brother Blue.
Everyone knew him in storytelling world.
Blue the street rappin’ Shakespearean.
Blue the lover of peace, the speaker in tongues.
Kids, people would laugh at him
at first. But not for long. He drew you
into his world of fantasy, poetry and stories.
He knew what he was doing.

The doctor in front of his name should have been
for the healing he gave to others with his joy,
his love and compassion for all people,
every one he met. That was Blue.
From him I saw
for the first time
that I was a gift.
A gift to myself and my world.
A gift I could share through stories,
listening and understanding.

Through Blue
I learned this, as many
before and after me also heard
the same surprising news about themselves.
That was Blue’s gift, the joy he spread
as he laughed, sang and storied through life
believing always in the goodness of people.
A man adorned with butterflies, light
and love.

Good-bye, Blue. You were beautiful.
Your gift to us was you.

OOPS Conference

It was a late night getting in last night or perhaps I should say early this morning. We had a nice slow start on this rainy day, sleeping in until 9:30 (granddaughter Haley is here with her friend Haley and she said, "Granny, I've never seen you sleep in so late!" I have but not too often).

It was so good to be with storytelling friends again to talk about stories, listen to stories, and think about new stories to tell or ways to tell the old ones. Suzi Whaples and I rode together to the OOPS Storytelling Conference in Mount Vernon, Ohio and discovered a shared delight in visiting junk shops! We talked ourselves blue all the way to the conference.

Since we had a little free time early in the afternoon, Cathy Jo Smith, Suzi, Bizzie, Donna Wilson and I ventured downtown to the old town shopping area. Cathy and I stopped by this beautiful monument in downtown Mount Vernon, Ohio on our way to explore antique shops.

Bizzie Vundervink (I think that's how she spells it!) and Cathy Jo head off to the shops. There were many good places to browse and of course I came home with all sorts of oddities and niceties.

After the evening story swap on Friday, tellers gathered for more sharing. From top and clockwise: Bizzie, Sandy Messerly, Suzi Whaples, Donna Wilson, Rich Knoblich, Judy Sima (mostly hidden from view), Melanie Pratt. and Cristie Merke (I'm not sure of the spelling so if you know better please correct me!).

Saturday started with an olio performance (meaning a "miscellaneous mixture") by the workshop leaders. Suzi snapped this one of me during my story about Larry sliding down the coal chute. There was a nice turnout for the conference; like many events, attendance is down, probably due to the uncertain economy and the swine flu scare.

Later I offered my workshop on ballads for storytellers. What I enjoyed most was the give and take with the attendees, as they asked questions and shared their knowledge during the informal session. I discussed ballad history, how to learn ballads, sources, variations and other topics. As always, I learn as I teach and it was inspiring to see the interest displayed by those in attendance. Ballads are stories in song, so they are right at home at a storytelling conference.

Suzi Whaples presented workshop on telling stories from family history, but was so engrossed that I didn't take any pictures. Suzi reminded us to capture and tell those stories before they're lost with the ones who know them. It was an excellent presentation; I liked the hands-on segment where she had each participant select an object from the table and tell a family story they were reminded of by the item. I've used this technique myself in workshops and find it very effective in drawing people into remembering stories from their past.

I selected a bell, and told about how my mother always had a bell by her bed; if she rang it we children knew to come running to see what she needed. This bell was in use a good bit during her pregnancies, and later on she went high tech when Dad installed a doorbell buzzer by her bed that rang into the kitchen below! Mom was often sick when I was young and the bell was in frequent use.

Judy Sima of Michigan taught a session on using audience participation in children's storytelling. Much of what she said affirmed techniques I already use, but as always I found new inspiration in listening and thinking about the ideas presented. Judy included a group exercise that was good fun.

I was not able to attend Bizzie's session but I wish I had--just look at these hats! I'm pretty sure those who attended had a good time. I got to play with the hats later in the day.

The resource sales table was pretty busy all day.

In the evening a storytelling concert was held in the church sanctuary. It feels like a strange place for storytelling, but perhaps not, because after all Jesus used stories to teach lessons. The stained glass windows were glowing richly in the evening sun and I was just entranced by them. We listened to the swap preceding the concert and stayed for the first teller, Omope Daboiku from Cincinnati before leaving. I was sorry not to hear all the featured tellers but we still had to get our things from the motel and had more than 3 hours drive time ahead of us.

It was a good conference, energizing and inspiring. I have some new ideas to try, and best of all, some new friends in the Ohio storytelling world.

Today I'm preparing for next weekend: storytelling and two craft sessions for up to 100 children. We're off to Wal-Mart now (yuck) so I can finish buying the supplies I need, and to get ready for Derek's birthday party tonight. I'm glad it's raining again because I don't need to feel guilty about not getting into the gardens this weekend!

The Mountain State Storytelling Institute

Two days of storytelling and storytelling friends. What a great recipe for a good time. Here are a few photos to share the Institute with you.

Keynote speaker Connie Regan-Blake inspired us with stories about Appalachian storyteller Ray Hicks, whose legacy lives on through those who knew him well. Connie had us laughing and crying as she talked about visiting the Hicks' remote m0untain home, about Ray's "all-day talker" personality and the easy flow of stories into his conversations, his healing abilities, and the impact this man had on her storytelling career.

Connie began telling stories for a living in 1971, when she and her first cousin Barbara Freeman took off on a yellow pickup truck with a camper to be storytellers. They didn't know where they were going or where they would find work, but their adventure lasted for years, and today Connie Regan-Blake is one of our most respected storytellers, and has traveled to many places in this world--although nowadays she flies!


Storytellers Jason Burns and Karen Vuranch get a hug in during the activities. Karen came with Colleen Anderson of MotherWit Design and Julie Adams, a fine singer and member of West Virginia Public Radio's Mountain Stage band to perform their storytelling and music show called Potluck. It was a fine performance by all three with music both comic and nostalgic and storytelling by Karen Vuranch that ranks as one of the best performances I have seen from any storyteller anywhere. It was taste treat for the senses.

Jo Ann Dadisman has a friend looking over her shoulder. The friend is the Braxton County Monster, one of West Virginia's most unusual legends or occurrences, depending on how you view the incident.

Folklorist Noel Tenney talks with Michael Kline, a noted oral historian and musician whose work has won many awards. I attended sessions by both Tenney and Kline and his wife Carrie Nobel Kline. Collecting family and community stories was the focus of both presentations, and the work of these people has saved much local legend and history from being lost as older generations pass on.

Besides her wide array of storytelling productions, Connie Regan-Blake sells beads for Bead for Life, which you can see in the photo above. Of course I bought a string of beautiful turquoise beads--both because they were beautiful and because this good cause provides medical and other assistance for the Ugandan women who make the jewelry from recycled paper. If you click in the link above, you will see a necklace like the one I bought in the front center of the website's photo.

I presented a new workshop on blogging Saturday afternoon. It was a small but dedicated group that attended. I had CD's of a powerpoint presentation for each attendee along with a handout of the slides because I never trust computers at conferences to really work. We managed to get enough functioning so that each person had a laptop to use.

It seemed a bit of an oxymoron to have someone called granny presenting on blogging! But at the end of the two-hour session, those who attended either had already started a blog and were posting, or knew all about the main blog sites and were ready to get started when they went home. Jason attended although he already has an excellent blog and his insights were an excellent addition to the discussion. I covered topics like deciding what your blog is to, who you want to target, what to do and not do on your blog, blog etiquette, set-up options and more. I think it was a useful session, and I would like to do it again sometime. I am certainly not a techie, but perhaps the viewpoint of someone like me is valuable to those who feel intimidated by writing online.

At the end of the Friday night concert, the other tellers and I were onstage for a final song and bow. Tellers were Rich Knoblich, me, Kevin Cordi, Ilene Evans and Connie Regan-Blake. What did I tell? Well, I started out by linking my presentation to Connie Regan-Blake's story about her mother going to pick out a coffin (true story!). Her story was one that made you laugh and cry at the same time. It reminded me of the time I was at the auction and they had a purple coffin as one of the lots for sale. (You can read about that on my blog by clicking here). Which has forever stayed in my mind--I mean, was it a used coffin? or a scratch-and-dent model (it did have a dent).

Anyway--so I told about that coffin, then segued to talking a little about the area where the Institute was being held, only a few miles from some of our states worst mine disasters at Mannington and Monongah. That led to the ballad by Jean Ritchie called West Virginia Mine Disaster. From there I talked a little about my husband's family and their connection to coal, and from there to my story called Idy Mae's Full Moon. An outhouse story, actually, and pretty funny.

The mine disaster song is not a happy one, as you can imagine, so it was important to me to bring the audience back to a happy place at the end of my set. By combining the song with family history and a funny family story, I was able to provide a range of emotional experiences and a brief multi-faceted perspective of the life in coal-mining communities. Not all good, not all bad, but full of the complexities of life for all of us.

The event ended with a presentation by the student storytelling troupe at Fairmont called The Appalachian Raconteurs. I am so glad to know this group was formed because we need more young people in storytelling. Knowing that the torch will be passed to capable hands makes me very happy and secure in knowing that Appalachian storytelling will continue to be part of our heritage for at least a few more generations.

I am looking forward to next year's Institute. The professional workshops, rich storytelling, the opportunity to interact with college students who are interested in storytelling, networking with friends and being at beautiful Fairmont State University makes a perfect recipe for learning and growing.

Gone Storytelling!

I'll be at the Mountain State Storytelling Institute at Fairmont State University in Fairmont, WV on Friday and Saturday, telling stories and teaching, of all things, two workshops on blogging.

I hope I'll see you there, and if not, I'll be back online this weekend to post photos and stories about what went on at the Institute.

Larry has the grass cut, the gardens and greenhouse are in good shape, and the laundry--well, the laundry is kinda sorta caught up. So he's going with me!

What a guy. Takes care of home, takes care of me, and likes storytelling too.

Storytelling at the Ariel Theatre

The interior of the beautiful Ariel Theatre in Gallipolis, Ohio. Situated in the old-town area of the city, the Ariel is a testament to the love of one man for his community. According to the storytellers from the area, the theatre was restored through the funding and efforts of one man. Imagine that.

Hannah checks out the stage

Saturday night was storytelling at The Ariel Ann Theatre in Gallipolis, Ohio .The theatre has been beautifully restored and I was excited about being on stage there. The event was organized by Bob Hood, Gallia County's convention and visitors bureau executive director, and he was the evening's first teller--his first time as a storyteller.

Hannah backstage at the Ariel

Granddaughter Hannah went with us and she explored every inch of the theatre, talked to everyone and pretty much made herself at home. I wish I had photos of her listening to the tellers--her face told it all. She was totally into the stories, a compliment to the tellers who easily held the attention of 11-year-old Hannah.

Do you think she's practicing to be a storyteller?

Storytellers for the night were Donna Wilson, Jim Flanagan, Lyn Ford, Glenn Ray, Bob Hood and myself. Each teller had 10 minutes to tell--and if you're a storyteller you know it can be difficult to find a story to fit in such a short space. I have been working on a story that is new to me, and yet I've known it a good while, and actually told it once about 8 years ago. (To read the story, go to Orkney Jar. You will find not only the story I told but so many interesting things to read about the customs, standing stones, and life in these remote islands.) With the addition of an old lullaby and a little story background, it fit the time allotted perfectly.

I was happy to see the turnout. Last year was the first storytelling event at the theatre and the hope was to improve the attendance this year. Last year, I was told, 55 people showed up to listen; this year there were over 75, and all were paid admissions. This is admittedly a small audience by most standards, but when an event is new, growth like this is encouraging and a good sign for the future, especially in the current economic climate.

My next storytelling event is a couple weeks away at Ripley Middle School, telling to the 8th grade. It's good to have had this event to get me ready for them, since storytelling over the winter months has been pretty quiet. I don't pursue work in the winter because I need a break and the weather isn't trustworthy for commitments like contracts and possible travel.

But it is nice to be slowly getting back into the swing of it. There's nothing quite like sharing a story with a group of willing listeners.

How Stories Travel!

As a storyteller, I often find old stories from other countries that I tell to audiences here. I also develop stories of my own from traditional material. One of my stories, based on the Child ballad Captain Wedderburn's Courtship, has had an interesting life.

I found a bit of a ballad in a collection of West Virginia folk songs--it was simply called The Riddle Song. I loved it and learned to sing it. Where I got the melody I have no idea; I can't read music but when I read the words, I knew the tune. I must have heard it somewhere and it stayed in my mind in some subterranean cavern.

As I was reading a book of Child ballads, I found The Riddle Song embedded in a longer, more complex ballad called Captain Wedderburn's Courtship. Apparently the ballad had traveled, along with many others, across the ocean from Scotland to America with early settlers, and a portion of it pulled out to stand alone as a lullaby (or so it was listed in my book).

I decided that The Riddle Song could become a story of a riddled courtship, and developed a tale about a brave captain and a young miss who match wits which was the story line in the longer ballad. It became one of my favorites and I recorded it on my first CD. A young storyteller came to America from Hungary and heard my story/ballad on a California radio show that is broadcast by a storytelling friend, Jackie Baldwin.

Csenge, the young teller, emailed me for permission to tell the story because she had fallen in love with it. Of course I said yes; storytelling is an oral art and if we don't share the stories, they die. I sent Csenge a copy of the CD so she would have it to work from.

Apparently she has been telling the story; yesterday I received an email from a storyteller in England who had met Csenge in America and invited her to visit when she came to England. Csenge did visit last Christmas, and told my version of Captain Wedderburn's Courtship. Gail, the English storyteller, heard the story and loved it too. In her email yesterday she asked permission to tell it.

What do you think I said?

What a journey. From England to America's Appalachian mountains, to California and back to Boston (where Csenge was when she heard the story broadcast), and then over the seas and home again to the British Isles. The story of the story is a story in itself.

Storytelling at the Grafton 1-2-3

Thursday night was Trick-or-Treat in Grafton, West Virginia. What better night for storytelling at the newest old place in town, the Grafton 1-2-3 Coffeehouse? Housed in a renovated 1890 building in the old part of Grafton, the 1-2-3 opened on October 8th.

We arrived around 7pm, and there were a few people already in the coffeeshop. The place is warm and inviting, lots of chairs and tables, and lots of great pastries and other food--not to mention wonderful coffee drinks. I ordered decaf and it was perfect, flavorful and strong.

By 7:15 the restaurant was full and people were spilling over to the outside patio area that is still under construction. A makeshift wood stove was blazing, and that kept back the chill night, at least for those lucky enough to be close. The downside of being close, of course, was the smoke from the open front stove, but that was a trade I was happy to make. I was surprised and pleased to see two storytelling friends arrive--Jo Ann Dadisman and June Riffle tell as a tandem group called The Mountain Echoes; they don't live too far from Grafton, but coming out on such a cold night was truly appreciated.

At 7:30 it was time to start. I was very glad to have my little Pignose amp with me to compete with the traffic and trains. Downtown in any town can be pretty noisy. I wished I had my big amp with me, but the Pignose did a satisfactory job. The crowd had grown; not only was the coffee shop full, but there were around 40-50 people braving the cold night to listen to stories. The audience was all ages, from little ones to adults, but they were all in the mood for scary stories.

It was a lot of fun, and I hope I get to go back sometime and tell there again. When the planned glassed-in patio and fireplace are completed, the space will be perfect for storytelling and music. As it is, it's a friendly, warm place to visit.

Congratulations, MK! It's a perfect little coffeehouse (and great coffee!).