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Showing posts with label telling stories to children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label telling stories to children. Show all posts

Thursday, July 9, 2009

On the Storytelling Trail: Moundsville and Benwood-McMechen

Today I presented two entirely different programs. The first was a creative writing workshop, as part of the Get Creative! Summer Reading theme that is being used at many West Virginia libraries.


For this program I created small journals with writing prompts. We used some of the prompts today, and the rest are for students to take home and write whenever they feel the urge. We wrote list poems, acrostics, flash fiction and a nonfiction piece about how we got our names.

I also had some "five senses" items on the tables--the participants could touch, smell, taste, or see the objects; the hearing part was our discussion of each item. The items included a glass ball that belonged to my parents, a small Navajo pin that was my grandmother's, a jar of cinnamon, one of dried dill and one of pickling spice, a velvet burnout scarf, an appliqued dishtowel from the 50's, a small wooden vase given to me by my sister Theresa, and several kinds of candy.

There were some talented writers in the group, and I hope they continue to use the journals and find opportunities to write.

We left Moundsville and headed up the Ohio River to the communities of Benwood and McMechen. These little towns adjoin each other so closely it's difficult to know where one ends and the other begins. The children at the program could tell me quickly, however!

This program included storytelling with puppets, including my two Create-A-Puppets that make the most bizarre monsters. Two boys made monsters prior to the program and we used them in a cracked version of City Mouse/Country Mouse. (City Monster/Country Monster!). We told two other stories with puppets, and almost every child in attendance was able to be part of at least one of the stories.

After the stories, it was puppetmaking time! We made a grand and glorious mess with felt, yarn, pompoms, sequins, feathers, jewels, peel-and-stick foam sheets, and other craft supplies.


Look at them working!


And here are a few results of their efforts: these, I was told, are a chicken and a squirrel. Who am I to argue?


The group of middle-school-age kids got crazy with the yarn and made "hairy" puppets, with lots of feathers. Creative? Absolutely.

So now I'm home again and getting ready for the next performance Friday night. I'm excited about this one too, a program of Celtic-Appalachian stories and songs with two musician friends for a Celtic Festival at Prickett's Fort State Park. Stories and music--can there be a better combination? (Well, kids and puppets come a close second in my book.)

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Storytelling this Week

Catching up on the past week's storytelling in today's post:

This week's storytelling was at home, mid-state and up north--West Virginia's northern panhandle, to be exact: Paden City, Middlebourne and Parkersburg (which isn't really in the Panhandle but it's north of my home so...).

I have had so much fun with this summer's programs. The theme for library summer reading programs this year is Be Creative! Now, what is not to like about that for a storyteller? Last week I outlined the program I planned to present this year and for the most part that program is what I am doing. Except for today. More about that later.

Since the theme is creativity, I wanted stories that reflected a range of arts as well as creative ways to tell a story. I developed a new flannelboard story and pulled out an older one to re-use, found a story about generosity and helping others that could be drawn as well as told, developed two new stories to tell with puppets and participation, and added a few songs. The result is a fast-moving, highly interactive program that has been a hit so far. I am loving it--not always does a program fall into place like this one has.

The program got its first run last Friday at my local libraries in Ripley and Ravenswood. The next day we were at Glenville for the Folk Festival and what I told there was a mix of folktales, tall tales, ballads and some of my poems. Completely different material from the summer programs.


Then on Monday it was back to the libraries. At Paden City, I recognized several children from past years and they knew just how to participate in the stories. I was sad to hear the librarian was retiring--she's become a friend over the years--but glad for her. We did not have time to explore Paden City's marble factory again but I am going to put that on my to-do list for this year. Paden City was at one time the source of many of the world's marbles and continues to produce them today.

On the way to Middlebourne we passed Gamble's Run, site of one of our state's many good ghost stories. Again, no time to stop! We had to get lunch somewhere before the next performance, so we drove on into town and to the little restaurant I'd eaten at previously. It was good food then and I was looking forward to being there again.

We were disappointed, however. Apparently the restaurant was short-handed; after ordering and waiting over half an hour, we had to leave without our lunch. I paid for the good coffee and cottage cheese and we headed on to the library.



Again, I recognized some of the children from past years. Some of them are getting as tall--or taller!--than I am. That is one of the joys of storytelling--getting to know people in many places.

We looked around Middlebourne a bit before leaving town and heading back down the beautiful Ohio River. This house begged to have its picture taken. Check out the dude on the upstair porch!

The little town boasts many beautiful homes and again I need more time to stay, talk, walk and discover.

We were really hungry by this time so we stopped in St. Mary's to find lunch/dinner. And that stop is a whole 'nother post! When you ask a friendly looking guy where to eat, sometimes you get much more than you bargained for!


This morning we headed to Parkersburg to tell ghost stories. Planning for this took a little time--I knew the audience would be mixed ages, basically 3 years old to adults, but mostly in the 5-12 year-old range. So how to select ghost stories for that mix? I ended up developing two program plans, one that could be used if the audience was younger and one if the majority was older. As it turned out, it was some of each, so that's what I told. About 100 people or more were crowded into the room that was appropriately decorated for spooky tales, complete with a smoke machine (that set off the fire alarm before I arrived--excitement!).

The group was charged up right away so I knew I needed something interactive and intriguing to get them started. I decided on a story with good audience participation, spooky but funny in the end. It worked and we were off. Tailypo, Wizard Clipp, Jack and the Ghost, The Ghost of Silver Run, Mothman and the Braxton County Monster, a story from Parkersburg and one from Jackson County, a couple songs and the time was gone before I knew it. It was a very good session. I left as the kids trooped excitedly into the Haunted House. They had more fun ahead--for me, it was a 70-mile drive to work the late shift, getting off work at 8:30pm. But worth it for the chance to be at this library!

Six events and three different programs in six days--storytelling is certainly never boring. The rest of this week is quiet, except for canning more beans, a huge project at work and preparing for a week of programs after July 4th--two writing workshops, one for children and one for teens, more of my summer reading programs, two puppet craft programs, a Celtic program and a ghost stories program. But I'll be on vacation from work that week, so it should be a piece of cake, right?

Geez, I love this stuff!

Thursday, June 18, 2009

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.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Action Rhymes for Rainy Days

This is for those of you with little ones, stuck inside while the rains drip down. Instead of parking them in front of the TV or DVD, have a little fun playing games like these. some will be familiar, some may be new to you.

Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear
Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around
Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground
Teddy bear, teddy bear, tie your shoes
Teddy bear, teddy bear, read the news
Teddy bear, teddy bear, go upstairs
Teddy bear, teddy bear, say your prayers
Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn out the light
Teddy bear, teddy bear, say good night!

Alphabet Game
A my name is Annabelle
My best friend’s name is Albert
We like Artichokes
And live in Alabama

(Continue with each letter of the alphabet)

Sailor Went to Sea
A sailor went to sea sea sea (hand above eyes, looking out to sea)
To see what he could see see see
But all that he could see see see
Was the bottom of the deep blue sea sea sea

A sailor went to chop chop chop (chop across elbow with hand)
To see what he could chop chop chop
But all that he could chop chop chop
Was the bottom of the deep blue chop chop chop

A sailor went to knee knee knee (slap knee)
To see what he could knee knee knee
But all that he could knee knee knee
Was the bottom of the deep blue knee knee knee

A sailor went to oo-wash-ee-wash (do the twist)
To see what he could oo-wash-ee-wash
But all that he could oo-wash-ee-wash
Was the bottom of the deep blue oo-wash-ee-wash
(repeat faster and faster)
Clap Your Hands
Hello everybody, glad to see you
Clap your hands to show you’re glad to see me too.
Clap your hands, everybody, clap your hands
Clap your hands and say you’re glad to see me too.
Stomp your feet, nod your head, blink your eyes, shake your hips, clap your hands

Counting Game
I eat my peas with honey
I’ve done it all my life
It makes the peas taste funny
But it keeps them on my knife
How many peas did I eat?
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,…..

In and Out
Room for rent
Apply within
When I move out
Let (name) move in!

Changing bedrooms #1
Changing bedrooms #2
Changing bedrooms #3
(assign each child a number; then enter the circle when their number is called)

Clap Your Hands
Hello everybody,
glad to see you
Clap your hands
to show you’re glad to see me too
Clap your hands,
everybody, clap your hands
Clap your hands
and say you’re glad to see me too
Stomp your feet,
nod your head,
blink your eyes,
shake your hips,
clap your hands

Joe
Hi, my name’s Joe
I work in the button factory
One day the boss
Came up to me and said Joe
Are you busy?
I said Not!
Turn the button with your left hand high (left hand turns button)

Repeat, changing to right hand, right foot, left foot, head. Last time the question is asked, Joe replies YES!

Never-Ending Song
I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves,
everybody’s nerves, everybody’s nerves.
I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves
and this is how it goes.

(repeat over and over and over until it even gets on your nerves!)

Saturday, November 29, 2008

The Jar of Rosemary: A Christmas Story


From the book The Story-Teller by Maud Lindsay (1874-1941)


This book is no longer copyrighted and is available full-text online in several places. This particular story is a Christmas story, and may be useful for some of you who are looking for new stories to tell, or tales suitable for use with your Sunday school classes.


I found my copy of the book at a friend's antique shop in Weston, WV. How could I not buy it with a title like that! The stories are a bit on the "sweet" side, as many children's story books were during the time Lindsay was writing, but they are well written tales. Several copies are available for sale at Abebooks.


There was once a little prince whose mother the queen was sick. All summer she lay in bed, and everything was kept quiet in the palace. But when the autumn came, she grew better. Every day brought color to her cheeks and strength to her limbs, and by and by the little prince was allowed to go into her room and stand beside her bed to talk to her.
He was very glad of this, for he wanted to ask her what she would like for a Christmas present. As soon as he had kissed her and laid his cheek against hers, he whispered his question in her ear. 'What should I like for a Christmas present?' said the queen. 'A smile and a kiss and a hug around the neck. These are the dearest gifts I know.'


But the prince was not satisfied with this answer. 'Smiles and kisses and hugs you can have every day,' he said. 'But think, Mother, think. If you could choose the thing you wanted most in all the world, what would you take?' So the queen thought and thought.


At last she said, 'If I might take my choice of all the world, I believe a little jar of rosemary like that which bloomed in my mother's window when I was a little girl would please me better than anything else.' The little prince was delighted to hear this.


As soon as he had gone out of the queen's room, he sent a servant to his father's greenhouses to inquire for a rosemary plant. But the servant came back with disappointing news. There were carnation pinks in the king's greenhouses and roses with golden hearts and lovely lilies, but there was no rosemary.


Rosemary was a common herb and grew mostly in country gardens, so the king's gardener said. 'Then go into the country for it,' said the little prince. 'No matter where it grows, my mother must have it for a Christmas present.'


So the messengers went into the country here, there and everywhere to seek the plant. But each one came back with the same story to tell. There was rosemary enough and to spare in the spring, but the frost had been in the country. There was not a green sprig left to bring to the little prince for his mother's Christmas present.


Two days before Christmas, however, news was brought that rosemary had been found-a lovely, green plant growing in a jar right in the very city where the prince himself lived. 'But where is it?' said he. 'Why have you not brought it with you? Go and get it at once.'


'Well, as for that,' said the servant who had found the plant, 'there is a little difficulty. The old woman to whom the rosemary belongs did not want to sell it, even though I offered her a handful of silver for it.'


'Then give her a purse of gold,' said the little prince.


So a purse filled so full of gold that it could not hold another piece was taken to the old woman, but presently it was brought back. She would not sell her rosemary; no, not even for a purse of gold.


'Perhaps if your little highness would go yourself and ask her, she might change her mind,' said the prince's nurse.


So the royal carriage drawn by six white horses was brought and the little prince and his servants rode away to the old woman's house. When they got there, the first thing they spied was the little green plant in a jar standing in the old woman's window.


The old woman herself came to the door, and she was glad to see the little prince. She invited him in and bade him warm his hands by the fire and gave him a cookie from her cupboard to eat. She had a little grandson no older than the prince, but he was sick and could not run about and play like other children. He lay in a little white bed in the old woman's room. The little prince, after he had eaten the cookie, spoke to him, took out his favorite plaything, which he always carried in his pocket, and showed it to him.'


I wonder if you can guess what the prince's favorite plaything was?


"It was a ball, which was like no other ball that had ever been made. It was woven of magic stuff as bright as the sunlight, as sparkling as the starlight, and as golden as the moon at the harvest time. When the little prince threw it into the air or bounced it on the floor or turned it in his hands, it rang like a chime of silver bells.


The sick child laughed to hear it and held out his hands for it. The prince let him hold it, which pleased the grandmother as much as the child. But pleased though she was, she would not sell the rosemary. She had brought it from the home where she had lived when her little grandson's father was a boy, she said, and she hoped to keep it till she died. So the prince and his servants had to go home without it.


No sooner had they gone than the sick child began to talk of the wonderful ball. 'If I had such a ball to hold in my hand,' he said, 'I should be contented all the day.' 'You may as well wish for the moon and the sky,' said his grandmother.


But she thought of what he said, and in the evening when he was asleep she put her shawl around her. Taking the jar of rosemary with her, she hastened to the king's palace. When she got there, the servants asked her errand, but she would answer nothing till they had taken her to the little prince.


'Silver and gold would not buy the rosemary,' she said when she saw him. 'But if you will give me your golden ball for my little grandchild, you may have the plant.'


'But my ball is the most wonderful ball that was ever made!' cried the little prince. 'And it is my favorite plaything. I would not give it away for anything.' And so the old woman had to go home with her jar of rosemary under her shawl.


The next day was the day before Christmas, and there was a great stir and bustle in the palace. The queen's physician had said that she might sit up to see the Christmas tree that night and have her presents with the rest of the family. Everyone was running to and fro to get things in readiness for her.
The queen had so many presents, and very fine they were, too, but the Christmas tree could not hold them all. So they were put on a table before the throne and wreathed around with holly and with pine. The little prince went in with his nurse to see them and to put his gift, which was a jewel, among them.


'She wanted a jar of rosemary,' he said as he looked at the glittering heap. 'She will never think of it again when she sees these things, you may be sure of that,' said the nurse.


But the little prince was not sure. He thought of it himself many times that day. Once when he was playing with his ball, he said to the nurse, 'If I had a rosemary plant, I'd be willing to sell it for a purse full of gold, wouldn't you?' 'Indeed, yes,' said the nurse, 'and so would anyone else in his right senses. You may be sure of that.'


The little boy was not satisfied, though. Presently, when he had put his ball up and stood at the window watching the snow, which had come to whiten the earth for Christ's birthday, he said to the nurse, 'I wish it were spring. It's easy to get rosemary then, isn't it?' 'Your little highness is the king's parrot that knows but one word, with your rosemary, rosemary, rosemary,' said the nurse, who was a little out of patience by this time. 'Her majesty the queen only asked for it to please you, you may be sure of that.'
But the little prince was not sure. When the nurse had gone to her supper and he was left by chance for a moment alone, he put on his coat of fur. Taking the ball with him, he slipped away from the palace." And where do you think he was going? I think you've guessed.


"He hastened toward the old woman's house. He had never been out at night by himself before, and he might have felt a little afraid had it not been for the friendly stars that twinkled in the sky above him. 'We'll show you the way,' they seemed to say. He trudged on bravely in their light, till by and by he came to the house and knocked at the door.


Now the little sick child had been talking of the wonderful ball all evening. 'Did you see how it shone, Grandmother? Did you hear how the little bells rang?' he said. It was just then that he heard the little prince knocking at the door.


The old woman made haste to answer the knock, and when she saw the prince she was too astonished to speak. 'Here is the ball!' he cried, putting it into her hands. 'Please give me the rosemary for my mother.'


And so it happened that when the queen sat down before her great table of gifts, the first thing she spied was a jar of sweet rosemary, like that which had bloomed in her mother's window when she was a little girl.


'I should rather have it than all the other gifts in the world,' she said. And she took the little prince in her arms and kissed him."

Sunday, November 16, 2008

November Weekend: Saturday

What a wild weekend.


Outside the Mountainlair at WVU

Friday night we packed the car for storytelling on Saturday--a puppet stories program for WVU Mountaineer Week's Family Fun Day in Morgantown, WV, and ghost stories in the evening. This is the third year in a row I've done the puppet program at this event, and it's always fun.

It was a good day for a road trip too--rainy, temperatures beginning to drop and light snow predicted later in the day. If we'd been home, we'd have been stuck in the house. As it was, we had a blast.






After setting up for my program I had plenty of time to browse the big arts and crafts fair. My favorite jeweler, Robert Riffe, was there. Last year I bought a pair of prenite earrings that were absolutely gorgeous. I lost them at my family reunion and have been sad about it ever since. I made myself feel better yesterday by buying three pairs of Robert's earrings. What can I say? I love his work, and I like knowing that by buying from him I'm supporting a very good artist.




This friendly fellow shared my program space. Do you know who he is?


I also bought a few stained glass ornaments from my friend, stained glass master artist David Hauser. His work is stunning; I can't afford his bigger pieces but the ornaments are whimsical and as perfect as all his work.

Handmade note cards and a little leather pouch for my business cards rounded out my shopping. I go to very few craft shows so I planned to shop at this one.



The storytelling was wonderful. A girl who was in one of the classes I told stories to at Westwood Middle School a few weeks ago was there with her family. She told me several times how that was the best 7th period class ever. I value that praise--it was obvious she meant it. She was one of the kids who helped with the first story and did a great job. The highlight of the storytelling, though, was a young boy who, when I told him his part was over and he could go back to his mother, took off at a tear out into the craft fair! His mother was sitting in the audience, but evidently he thought she was somewhere else. She chased him down and we all got such a laugh out of it.



I don't have any photos to share of the storytelling, unfortunately because I forgot to give Larry the camera. But after the storytelling, he snapped this one of me with the WVU Mascot, the Mountaineer. (Can you tell I was pretty warm after the active storytelling with lots of little ones?)




My friend, blogger Jason Burns was also there to do a presentation on the ghosts of WVU. He had a good crowd; the strangest of his stories was the one about the ghost cow. For real--a ghost cow in one of the WVU buildings.


We left for a little while to have dinner with our youngest son Tommy who lives in Morgantown. Then it was back to the Lair for the evening Tellabration storytelling event with WV Storytelling Guild members. The theme was ghost stories; when we started there were perhaps 20 people in the Hatfield's restaurant where the event was held. But the room quickly filled and we had an excellent turnout for the event.


Tellabration, I should explain, is an international event that celebrates storytelling. Guilds and storytelling groups all over the world host events, usually on Thanksgiving weekend (we had ours earlier because so many tellers were going to be at WVU on Saturday anyway). The event was the brainchild of J.G. Pinkerton, a well-known storyteller from New Hampshire who passed away this month. His wry humor will be missed.


We left Morgantown around 8pm for the drive home. It was a lively trip because storytelling friend Donna Wilson rode with us on this trip; two storytellers in one car means little quiet time!
We got home just before midnight, got the fires going, and sat up talking until 2:00 am. Why? Why not? The next day was Sunday, and we planned to sleep in.
And that was exactly what we did!

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Storyteller's Journey

I am singing:
Bright morning stars are rising
Day it is a-breakin’
in my soul
as the sun bursts orange-red on the horizon.

It is storytelling day
at a small school one hundred miles from home.
I practice a story as I drive and wonder
who the children will be.

The trip goes quickly;
I am trying not to notice the creeks, the horses,
abandoned houses and barns it takes time to see.


The school door
is difficult to find.
I’m in just in time to set up for the first class.
Fourth and fifth grades shuffle in.

I am telling.
Their eyes
welcome my stories.
We laugh together
about fish that walk,
fish that talk,
dogs that split in half.


They share folk wisdom:
Always squirt milk from a baby’s bottle
on your arm so that the baby won’t get burned;
put peppermint oil on your temples for a headache.


Our time is over,
regretfully I leave,
move to the next group:
tiny people so serious
about kindergarten
and first grade status.

I share the stage,
giving them parts
in some stories,
voice in others.
They chant and repeat
just as I tell them to do.

We sing about skunks,
scold the raccoon and run from the bear.
We taunt a hunter, sing a silly song
faster and faster.


They leave for lunch.
I wander outside, snapping photos
of water over rocks and bark
over the hard muscle
of an ironwood tree.

One last group,
second and third grade,
full of lunch and energy.
They remember some of the stories
from my last visit, three years ago.

I am leaving;
I pack my car and drive away





but on the return trip I take my time:
snap photos of the old concrete bridge
over Hog Run,










the ferry at Sistersville,
Little Sister oil well,
an abandoned sternwheel.

I notice road names
now that I am not in a hurry
Cowhouse Run Windy Ridge Honey Run Anthem Road.
I sing them out loud as each twists quaintly out of view.





I am seeing
the abandoned houses,
an old bus depot,
barns with sheep
and horses rolling
in field just faintly green.
Beside diamond creeks
the road runs south
to Wileyville, Paden City,
Knob Fork, Sistersville, Bens Run, Friendly,
Long Reach, Grape Island, and finally home.




I am thinking
about stories
given to children
I may not see again; I search for faces in my mind,
seeking to discover
where the childish hearts touched mine
and mine theirs,
what words
found a way
into the memories
of country children in a small country school.

Such things a storyteller never knows with certainty;
the day will fade, covered by other faces, words, and roads.
I will find new stories and tell them to other children,
in small country schools and city parks,

while in Long Drain, West Virginia
perhaps one child will sit beside a parent and say,
“Let me tell you a story” and my words
will sound again in a bright new voice.

I will be singing.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Gifting the Fairy: Adaptation of a Welsh Tale


Once in the days when everyone knew that the fair folk lived in the land, there was a fairy who was in the habit of helping a family every evening by putting the children to bed.

“Shh! Shhh. Shhhh…go to sleep, little ones. Go to sleep. I’ll sprinkle fairy dust on your eyelids and soon you’ll be asleep.”

She would sing them fairy songs until they were fast asleep. What does a fairy song sound like? Perhaps she sang it like this…. (hummm)


Poor fairy, her clothes were in rags, but she never seemed to notice. Every night the children would stay awake til she came, and every night the fairy would fly through their open window and settle on their bedpillows.

“How are you?” she would ask. And “Are you ready to go to sleep now?” And she would sing to them, soft and low and sweet.

Their mother happened to walk by the bedroom in her slippers one night, and I suppose the fairy did not hear her because she didn’t hide, she only sat their singing to the little children, whose eyes were drifting shut. The mother felt sorry for the fairy, in her poor ragged dress.

So one night she left a silken gown on the bedpillow for the fairy to thank her for all her help. But fairies do not like rewards.

“What’s this? What’s this? It must be your mother doesn’t want me to come anymore. She should know, as all folks know, that fairy folk don’t accept gifts.”

The very next day the fairy was gone, and the gown was found out by the fence, torn to bits and trompled by tiny fairy feet.

The children missed their friend, and you know, I think the fairy missed them too. They were old enough by now to go to sleep by themselves, though, and each night they would sing each other to sleep. And each night they would dream of their friend, the fairy who sprinkled the fairy dust on their eyelids as they drifted off to sleep.

I've had this story in my files for several years, with no note as to the source except "Welsh tale." If you know the source for this story, please let me know. It's a charming tale.

For many more Welsh fairy tales that are in the public domain, the Welsh Fairy Book is online, with lovely pen-and-ink illustrations.

Then there is The Fairy Mythology, also available online at Sacred Texts. It's incredible that so many of the old collections of stories are now available to us online. It's like finding treasure each time I discover another book that someone has graciously put out there for the rest of us to enjoy.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

What is Storytelling?


I caught up with the discussion sbout the definition of storytelling at Priscilla Howe's blog, Storytelling Notes.

The discussion has ebbed and flowed for a long time--it was a hot topic when I joined my fist online storytelling listserve in 1996. Just what is this thing we call storytelling? Is it art, craft or skill? Priscilla got me thinking about it again.

Every time I try to answer the above questions, I find myself seeing Ray Hicks. I experienced his simple, straightfoward, classic delivery of a tale on the street in Jonesborough, Tennessee, a few years before he passed away.For me Ray Hicks defined storytelling clearly and eloquently as he told us a Jack tale in front of the old log cabin, standing easily in his bib overall and felt hat.

What was it about that experience that remains so vivid in my mind?


  • His inclusion of every listener in the tale. Ray used eye contact and gestures to make a connection with each person in the circle around him--not singling people out, but looking at each one directly and intently to be sure they were following along with the story.

  • Pacing. He didn't hurry, he didn't drag the story out for effect (something I've observed other tellers do, trying to make a 5-minute story into a 20 minute telling). He paused when the story called for a dramatic stop, hurried when Jack was hurrying. The pace was natural, like that of a conversation on a summer evening.

  • Voice. Ray's voice sank low, rose high, got louder and softer as he told the story because he was in the story with us, not presenting it. He knew all the people in the tale, where they lived and who their people were. He wore the story like a favorite coat.

  • He loved the story. His enjoyment and interest in what he was telling us was evident with every word he spoke, and with those he didn't. He didn't use extra words--he let his eyes, voice and gestures say things for him. And we understood.

Okay, so what is my definition, given the above?


Storytelling is sharing experience, through word and gesture, with listeners.


I can hear you thinking, "experience? What about folktales? Ray Hicks didn't experience that Jack tale!" Ah, but he did, every time he told it. He was right there in the story, experiencing each and every thing that happened, seeing it all unfold as he told it, and making sure his listeners were right there with him. That is storytelling.


And that is the kind of storyteller I want to be. I'm not dramatic, or artistic. I don't know how to do mime or how to dance. Others can do those things and for them it expresses what they want to say, adding different ways to communicate with their listeners. Sometimes I sing the story in a ballad. It's one more way to use words, to use my voice, to share the experience of the tale.


My goal as a storyteller: Tell--from my heart, from my life, from my experience--tell stories.

Saturday, August 4, 2007

On the Road: Day 2--Capon Bridge and Moorefield

Capon Bridge might be a small town, but it produces big audiences who are a pleasure to work with. The young man at left handled his puppet gig very well. I asked him if he'd worked with them before, and he said he had, at church. He was older than most of the children at this performance, and he set the example of how to behave.




I also used my story bag, which had a variety of items that linked to a story. The bag was quite a hit at all performances.







Here my raccoon does his schtick again. He's another standard for most performances with small children, and I've learned that adults enjoy his story too.





Clayton and I telling No News together. He did
a great job with the "straight" part.


On the Road: Day 3--Franklin and Piedmont

Last Thursday I traveled to Franklin, WV and Piedmont, WV, with my two "sub-contractors" Grace and Clayton.

Two towns could not be more different. Franklin nestles against the side of a mountain and serves a rural population, many of whom who are of strong German descent.

The Corner Cafe in Franklin still boasts a soda fountain. Clayton and Grace enjoyed our lunch there, especially the ice cream!







Okay, Granny indulges them a little bit. Grace is a little wired after blue raspberry rock candy!





A young participant in Franklin helps tell a story.
The library in Franklin is exceptionally situated with a stupendous mountain view. We presented two programs there, one for preschool-age children and one for older children and adults. I liked this format because I was able to tailor the program specifically for each age group. it meant swapping out props quickly between sets, but definitely worth the effort.

Librarian Virginia Bates was on hand to help set up and was present for the programs as much as her workload allowed. As with so many small libraries, she wears many hats, and on this day was working the desk as well as being our host. The well-planned set-up and great volunteers made this a fun and easy performance for me.

Piedmont, on the other hand, is industrial. Historically a paper mill town, today it struggles to stay viable. Oddly, in order to get to Piedmont I had to leave West Virginia and go into Maryland! Piedmont was the setting for Henry Louis Gates' National Book Award-winning book, Colored People.
The librarians at Piedmont go all out to attract children to programs. They offer evening movies in the park, and had refreshments for my program too. Although a heavy rain preceded the program, about 10-15 children arrived at the park to listen. I think this was due to the librarians--they know the children by name, call to remind them of programs, and make a real effort to make it an event. In a town with so many challenges, I think the library is a real bright spot for the community. Kudos to those librarians who make things happen with few resources but a lot of commitment and ingenuity!

I've been working backward through the week, so that the posts read in order, top down, for the past week. I've missed a few things that will go into a catch-all post after I've got all the major events covered.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Tourists after the Telling: Day 7

The last storytelling performance of my week was at Mt. Storm Public Library, in the high country of West Virginia. Here I am using my raccoon puppet to tell one of my favorite stories. Although this library is very rural and remote, there were 32 parents and children in attendance.




Granddaughters Kate, Cassidy and Allison were with me for the trip home, and we took time to visit the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln's mother, Nancy Hanks. The site is not along a major route--it's several miles back on Pennyroil Road off of Rt 50. And though it's not been maintained, and there is little on-site information, it made me think about the difficulties of living there in frontier times. The location is lovely, but remote.


Another side trip on the way home--a stop at Blackwater Falls State Park. The girls had never seen the falls, and we were only a few miles away, so after a great lunch at the Purple Fiddle in Thomas we made a quick stop at the falls. (The Purple Fiddle is a neat place--eclectic, comfortable, funky and lively. Definitely worth a stop, just for the great food and atmosphere).
The water level was down but as usual the falls were stunning.




Then we were in the home stretch, but one more side trip lured us off the
track. I had told the story of Burnt House at Cacapon Resort the night before, and when the girls realized we were passing so close to that community, they begged to see it. There's not a lot to see--a few houses along the road, and a church that may have been the one from which people saw the inn on fire. It's a compelling story, and kept my granddaughters speculating about its possiblities for much of the remaining two hours of our drive.


Monday, July 23, 2007

Why Do We Tell Stories?

It's a question that comes up over and over again. Why do we do this? It's not easy--often we go into settings that have no concept of what a storyteller, or storytelling, is. Frequently we must explain that storytelling is not reading stories to little children. Sometimes we must listen to people tell us that they could tell some tales, too. Occasionally we must turn down an event because the organizers thinks we are sweet little old ladies who tell stories just to have something to do.

So why do we tell stories, and why do we keep facing the scenarios above?
Every teller probably has a different answer. For me, it's very clear: I tell stories to reconnect people with who they are and where they came from. Sure they live in suburbia today, but somewhere back in their heritage there are ancestors with their feet in the dirt, living on a farm or making their way across the mountains. That is what I want to recall, the links to heritage and history and family.

If I can make one person wonder about where they came from and go home to begin that search, I've been successful.

If I encourage one child to ask a parent, "when did you get in trouble?" I've been successful.

If I manage to recall to one person the little house they grew up in, that's success.

If one person goes home determined to learn more about their family, I did something good.

If one person suddenly sees a grandparent in front of them, it is worth every minute of effort I put into it.

That's what storytelling is--connecting, connectivity, remembrance and remembering.

That's why I tell stories.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Hundred, Paden City, and Middlebourne Storytelling

Monday was a busy day of storytelling. I left home at 8:00am (a lot later than my usual 6:00am leave time!) and headed north to three small libraries in West Virginia's northern panhandle. It was hot--so hot that I didn't take any outdoor photos. The air was steamy, blue with haze, and it made even breathing difficult. I drove through the tiny communities of Friendly, Grape Island, Ben’s Run, Long Reach, and Sistersville, occasionally running alongside the big river barges as they pushed their loads upstream.

First stop was Paden City. It’s the home of the marble maker Marble King. Most marbles have been made in West Virginia for years, and Paden City has been the chief source. It’s a pretty river town, hugging the banks of the Ohio.








Then it was on to Middlebourne, the county seat of Tyler County. I stopped for lunch in mid-town at Betty’s Diner. As I waited in line to be served, a small boy asked me, “Why are you wearing a red dress?” I explained that I liked red. “Oh,” he replied. “Do you have any blue dresses?” I assured him I did. “How about purple?” I had to think about that. “No, I don’t think I do,” I told him. “Well,” he said, “you should!” I thanked him for his advice.

The audience at Middlebourne had many children who attended a school I’d told stories at recently. To my surprise, they wanted me to tell the same stories, so I did. I added a few new ones too—“Like Meat Loves Salt,” (several variations on the theme here) and “Rindercella” (Archie Campbell's version is here) just for the fun of it.


Here, a young storyteller sprays the audience with the skunk
puppet. You can tell how sad she is to do it! I usually invite children to participate in telling the stories and handling
the puppets. My puppets know the rules: misbehave and it's back in the suitcase! So their child handlers are very careful that the puppets never fight or bite (the first thing most children who don't have puppets want to do with them is make them fight. This rule takes care of that problem).


Hundred is one of my favorite libraries. Only a few children turned out on that hot afternoon, so we sat around a table and swapped stories. I told a few Jack tales, and then we just talked—about snakes and outhouses and canning and other country things.

One lady told about her mother going into an old outhouse that began tipping over when her mother went in. Her mother felt it and shifted her weight so the outhouse tipped the other way. But every time her mother moved, so did the outhouse! Fortunately, the outhouse never tipped completely over and her mother got out safely.

On the drive home, I wondered what kind of purple dress that little boy thought I should wear. I should have asked him; he seemed quite certain about it.

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Storytelling at North Bend: Flexibility is the Name of the Game!

Friday night at North Bend State Park: We arrived early enough to allow a leisurely time getting ready. That was fortunate--turned out there was a mix-up and the amphitheatre where I was to perform was rented out for a wedding rehearsal. The folks there for the wedding practice seemed really stressed, and I'm easygoing enough to go with whatever flow I find. So we moved the storytelling to the campfire circle. I did not change into my usual garb, electing instead to stay in jeans since I'd be telling around the fire. With the hubbub of changing locations, I also did not re-do my make-up. Note to self--never do that again! In the photos Larry took, I look tired, tired, tired. Well, I was, but no one needed to see it!



The audience turned out to be mostly preschool or elementary age children, a far cry from the mostly adult audiences I tend to have in the parks. So that called for yet another change--in stories. I mentally tossed out the ones I planned to tell and substituted participation stories and songs.

One young man who was there turned out to be quite the storyteller himself. When I asked if anyone had heard of Jack (referring to the folktale character) this boy spoke up and said, "Yes, I have a cousin named Jack but he lives in Israel and I don't think he's ever coming to Cleveland." Could it be the same Jack?



Same boy also asked me, as I was preparing to tell a story, "Did you take a shower yesterday?" I assured him that I had, and also took one that day as well. He said, "So did I!" One of the best parts of telling to kids is that you never know what they will say, do or ask!



Here I am telling one of my favorite, and most popular, children's stories, learned from storyteller Don Leonard in Florida. The raccoon puppet seems very lifelike and always draws a good reaction. I use a lot of puppets when telling stories with children and they are always a hit. Puppets change the stimulus so that children don't get as antsy when listening. I try to do something to shift the stimuli regularly, usually every 5 minutes or so with young audiences like this.


It ended up being a great session, and I was tired but happy with how it went. A preschool teacher from Glenville was in attendance, so she got a copy of my book of participation stories, "Tell it Together!" I know she'll make good use of it.







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