Stories from the Stoop rehearses for First Night 2009

Shingebis

My latest story-craze is - no surprise to those who know me and my cell phone ringtones - a duck. Not just any duck, mind you: a merganser duck, called Shingebis.  

                      (This one is a hooded merganser.)

It should come as no surprise that I like ducks.  They are cute, waterproof, and they make great noises.  What's not to love?  But Shingebis takes waterfowl to a whole other level.  

The tale of Shingebis is Ojibwe (Chippewa) in origin, and it is set by the shores of Lake Superior during winter time.  Shingebis - typical of animal protagonists found in folk tales and legends around the world - has both bird and human traits.  He goes diving in the frigid lake water for fish, like any self-respecting merganser - but then he takes his fish to the snug winter lodge he has constructed himself, and eats them there, seated by a roaring fire.  

Shingebis, through no real fault of his own, has a formidable nemesis: the North Wind, known to the Ojibwe as Kabibonooka or Kabibonokka.  The North Wind - an irascible curmudgeon of the worst sort - takes pride in his ability to freeze water into ice, bring snow, and drive away all the birds from the Lake for the duration of the cold season.  All, that is, except Shingebis! Looking down on this cheerful and mildly anthropomorphic duck going about his business with no concern for wind and weather, North Wind feels stimied and disrespected.  A battle of wills ensues, with Shingebis emerging as the unlikely victor.

Like so many of my favorite heroes, Shingebis is an underdog (underduck?) who does not conform to the classical heroic mold with which we are accustomed.  He is not big or particularly powerful, in fact, his strength lies in his ordinariness and his authenticity.  He triumphs simply by being true to his essential nature, and by refusing to be bullied.  

When the North Wind blows snow on him, Shingebis ruffles his feathers and shakes it off. When the North Wind freezes the Lake, Shingebis makes a hole in the ice and keeps on fishing. When the North Wind blows his way into his lodge - rather like the Big Bad Wolf! - Shingebis merely sits by the fire and waits.  The North Wind beats a hasty retreat when he finds himself melting - à la Wicked Witch of the West - in the heat of Shingebis's fire, and the little duck returns to his routine, unruffled.  

                              (The Wizard of Oz is perhaps my favorite movie of all time.)

In the battle between the Duck and the Blowhard, it comes as a relief when the duck prevails and emerges from the conflict unscathed, shaking snow off his well-oiled feathers "like water off a duck's back!" as my mother always says.

Stories from the Stoop

Last night (Wednesday, November 5th), I managed to descend a bit from my post-election high and return to my Storytelling responsibilities.  This included co-running (with fellow-teller Andrea Lovett, and her daughter, writer Laura Lovett) a wonderful performance of new young Storytellers and Writers from the Franklin Park Development Tenants Association, at the Egleston Square Branch Library, in Roxbury.  We titled the performance "Stories from the Stoop", after Andrea's fond memories of her childhood, when she and other kids in her neighborhood would gather on the front steps of their homes and tell tales.

For the program, the younger kids (who Andrea and I have been working with for the last six weeks) presented their Group-Tellings of two very different folk tales.  One was a North American ghost story called "Baby Louise" narrated by Andrea, featuring Shaunice, Nydea, Khyasia, and Destiny.  

The second (narrated by moi) was an  Iranian-Persian folk tale called "No Doubt About It"- featuring a clever boy and his parrot, and two suspicious but gullible townsfolk -  starring Stanley as the Clever Boy, Nikhia as the Supposedly Magical Parrot, and Eric and Lehms as the Easily-Fooled Townsfolk (see picture below).  They were all terrific, and Nikhia's parrot voice did me proud!

 

In addition to the two Group-Tellings, Laura's young ladies impressed us all with some excellent readings of their brand-new poetry and short stories.  The kids also took turns demonstrating their expressive storytelling skills in our favorite game "Walks of Life".  Each of them used pantomime and facial expressions (no voice or sounds) to imitate an adult practicing their chosen profession, leaving the audience to guess at what job they were portraying.  We had so much fun that one of the Moms got up and got into the act!

Our audience of parents and siblings was warm and supportive, and they laughed at all the right places!  A fun time was had by all, and we are SO thankful to Juanita Pitts of the FPDTA, the staff of the Egleston Square Branch Library, and the parents of all of our young Storytellers! We are very proud of how well all the kids and teens performed last night, and look forward with eager anticipation to their performances at First Night on December 31, 2008.

YES WE CAN!

The Hairy Toe

I love this story so much, and was so inspired by the unnamed girl who told it in the YouTube clip I posted recently, that..............

I told it at Toscanini's in Central Square, for MassMouth's third MouthOff!

Hallowe'en is on its way!  All Hallow's Eve, Samhain, All Saints, The Celtic New Year, Tout-Saints, whatever you want to call it, it's my favorite holiday of the year.  Sure, I love Three Musketeers bars and wearing costumes as much as the next person, but Hallowe'en is about more than just free candy and the chance to wear a wacky outfit in public (I live in Cambridge, Mass. for crying out loud; people dress oddly here all year round!).

Hallowe'en offers us the opportunity to hear and tell scary stories.  The ones that bother us, make us jump, and otherwise provoke unusual reactions.  Our relationship to these creepy tales is ambivalent; monsters and ghosts are scary, but being afraid can feel almost delicious under the right circumstances.  I find that the following equation is virtually foolproof:

cozy couch + purring cat + hot cider + scary story = marvelous fun

I've found that reading, hearing and telling scary stories can help us to recognize that our fears provide us with common ground; we may not agree with each other about politics, or how to solve world hunger, but we can all agree that Dracula, Mega Sharks, and Zombies are very, very scary.  The things that frighten us all can bring us back in touch with our common human vulnerabilities.  And sometimes they can help us to laugh at ourselves just a little bit.

Boo.

Story Telling: The hairy toe.

Just in time for Hallowe'en, here is a terrific version of one of my favorite spooky stories, as re-told by a spunky kid!

Raining cats and dogs......

Rainy days are great for storytelling!  This past weekend my family and I enjoyed a number of terrific performances at the Three Apples Storytelling Festival, held in beautiful Bedford, MA. We were regaled by marvelously gifted tellers of every style, warm and snug and spellbound inside Bedford's beautiful First Parish Church, as the rain poured down outside and all around us.  No better way to spend a rainy weekend!

I was so inspired by the high quality of these tellings, that I ran out yesterday (naturally, in the rain again) and pillaged my local library for collections of folk tales, spooky stories, ANY stories to read through and devour, in my never-ending quest for more, More, MORE stories.  I read on and off throughout the day, alternatively checking on my slow-cooked Rosh Hashona brisket, but didn't find the story I knew I was hungering for.  [This happens sometimes.  I comb through books, take notes, over-use Google, stretch the patience of the local librarians, reading and reading and reading until I find IT: that one story that makes my brain go CLICK.  At least for that week; the next week, I'm hungry again, and the search resumes.]

This morning, I was assembling story outlines and ideas for a series of Storytelling Classes for children that I'll be co-teaching in Dorchester with my good friend and fellow-Storyteller Andrea Lovett.  As I skimmed the various outlines, checking to make sure that they were age-appropriate for our intended group, my "Story-Sense" began to tingle.  My story-sense is similar to Peter Parker's "Spidey-Sense", only instead of helping me avert danger and fight crime, it lets me know when I've found a really great story.  In fact, I'd unwittingly stumbled upon what is probably my storytelling jackpot of the month.  Here he is:

 Yes, that is, in fact, a dog.  (Read some amazing facts about chow chows here.)  The story of Shippeitaro - like all the stories that grab me by the collar and yell "TELL ME!" - challenged me as a Storyteller, in this case because I am a devoted cat-lover.  Shippeitaro is one of those unexpected heroes who bravely and emphatically saves the day, despite being faced with some very nasty Bad Guys (in this case, Cats Gone Bad) that ordinary sensible human beings are really afraid of.  Also, I just love an unlikely, dopey-looking hero, don't you?  Here's how it happened:

Long ago in ancient Japan, a young samurai was forced (by rain!!) to spend the night in a haunted temple, where he accidentally overheard a group of evil man-eating cats yowling about their fear of "Shippeitaro".  The next day, he walked to the local village, where everyone was preparing for what he learned was an annual sacrifice of one of the local girls to the denizens of the very haunted temple he had just spent the night in.  Out of curiosity, the samurai asked if anyone knew who Shippeitaro was, and was told that this was the favored pet of the local lord.  The brave and sensible young man politely asked to borrow the nobleman's beloved chow, who proceeded later that night to heroically dispatch the feline fiends, thus liberating the village folk from the tyranny of nasty girl-devouring puddy-tats.

  vs.  

(This bare-bones variant is based on translations and retellings I've read by Lafcadio Hearn, M. Oldfield Howey, and Mary F. Nixon-Roulet.)

Now, initially, the idea of an entire community of people being ruthlessly terrorized by cats struck me as improbable.  Let me introduce you to my housemates, Mabel and Larry:

      

Tyranny in their case amounts to repeated elbow-licking when they don't get fed by 8AM on weekends. 

To be fair, cats do have an impressive heritage as dangerous carnivores.  One Japanese description of the cat refers to it as "a tiger who eats from the hand", according to Carl Van Vechten, author of "The Tiger in the House".  Living with these noble, if somewhat diminished, descendants of the saber-toothed tiger, I am occasionally reminded that if our respective sizes were reversed, my appeal to Mabel and Larry would instantly become nutritional rather than emotional.  Could it be that the love and adoration that I think I see in their stately yellow eyes is actually a measured consideration of how favorably I would compare to Science Diet Indoor Cat Formula?

Food for thought.

Mouthing Off for MassMouth

Last night (September 8th) I co-hosted the second MouthOff for our wonderful organization MassMouth with Andrea Lovett.  Many marvelous tellings were shared, which Andrea and I video-taped using equipment lent to us by the masterfully savvy and multi-talented Norah Dooley.   Check them out here at the Massmouth site!  

In addition, I told the following tale, 

called "The Dubner Maggid",  as retold by Eric A. Kimmel 

in his delightful book  "The Spotted Pony: 

A Collection of Hanukkah Stories."

This book is one of those gems you 

come across in the library while

 looking for something entirely different, which sends you off in a delicious  folkloric tailspin.

                                  

Here is my version, as told at Toscanini's in Central Square, after one of their sublime micro-sundaes (hazelnut ice cream and hot fudge, thank you very much).

                            

While researching this story, I learned not only that the Dubner Maggid was a real historical person, but that the places mentioned by Kimmel - Tarnopol and Dubno, most notably - are real as well.  An important reminder that these stories are more than just entertainment (and excellent entertainment at that); they are part of Jewish oral tradition and history, and they need to be remembered and retold.  

So often, as a storyteller, my stories teach me.  They teach me to laugh and to cry and to think, but most especially to remember.

Storytellers unite in Cambridge

Here is a nice article from Wicked Local in the Cambridge Chronicle, about the very first MassMouth meeting, held in Cambridge on August 11th, 2008:

"Storytellers unite in Cambridge"

by Caitlin Gallagher

Our next MouthOff is on Monday, September 8th, 2008, also at Toscanini's (yummy) from 7-9pm.  We'll be telling stories on the theme of "school".  Be there and be cool!

Here is a story I told earlier this week, on the evening of Monday August 11th, at Toscanini's in Central Square.  A whole bunch of us showed up for the very first meeting of MassMouth, the new Massachusetts Association of StorytellerS.  We each told a tale on the theme of money, and it was terrific!  We even had a couple of audience members - folks chilling at Tosci's, watching and having a good time - hop up in front of the camera and tell some tales spontaneously - fantastic!  The area's best ice cream and tellers combined to create an unbeatable combination of tasty entertainment, graced by the presence of Brother Blue and Ruth Hill. Filming the performances was the graceful and talented Norah Dooley, who, along with Andrea Lovett, first came up with the idea of MassMouth.  Thank you Norah and Andrea!

Gus Rancatore, owner and proprietor of Toscanini's (and Rancatore's in Lexington and Belmont - yummy!) was our gracious host; so taken was he by the Tellings, and the interest shown by his customers, that he invited us back on Monday September 8th, where we will tell tales on the theme of "School".  You can find us there at 7pm, 899 Main Street, Cambridge, MA.  Come and tell!

Raving at the Raven

I've been home for barely an hour, and I simply must qvell about my trip to the Golden Raven Storytelling Circle in Union, Maine.  Just as I did last year, I took a bus up from South Station to charming little Waldoboro, where Roland was waiting with fresh-picked corn for our dinner.  We greeted each other like old friends (which we are), the intervening year since I'd last seen him vanishing as fast as that corn did at the dinner table a couple hours later.

On the way to his home, he showed me the blue-flecked hill where the local blueberries reside, and a desperately beautiful view at the top of a winding hillside road of the St. George River valley and Sennebec Pond (here's where I got the photo just above) in which the Golden Raven Storytelling Circle resides.  Those blueberries, by the way, ended up in Carol's freshly baked muffins, which I devoured hot out of the oven this morning!

When we got to 715 Sennebec Road, there were Carol Watier (Librarian, Food Pantry Director, Matriarch) and Debra Ballou (Professional Storyteller, Environmental Educator, Musician) and Windsor (Full-Time Dog), busily preparing for an evening of storytelling.  Telling stories is hungry work, so Carol made sure we were all well fortified with plenty of Maine home cooking. Topped off with homemade cookies and raspberries fresh off the bush behind the house, Debra and I felt that the time had come to pay for our supper, so out we went to the Circle.  

                                                

It was still light out when Roland led us in a brief opening ceremony and lit the fire chamber. We settled ourselves on the comfy chairs he had purchased recently to augment the Circle's tree stump, and Debra took us into Story-Land.  Her cedar flute and Native American drum were right at home amidst the river stones and the sparks from the fire, and pretty soon we were all making frog sounds as we helped her tell Margaret Read MacDonald's "Frog Talk".

We were relaxed and at ease, chatting between stories, sharing ideas, experiences, revelations. There's a kind of magic at the Golden Raven; the combination of a real fire, real stories, and real people creates a kind of alchemy in which ideas are born and words come easily.  This simple act of sharing stories under the stars by fire light is something which most of us experience rarely (or never) in our lives, even though our ancestors probably considered such evenings commonplace.

When it was my turn to tell, I found myself turning to a tale which I had been keeping hidden away in a notebook, too nervous or awkward or lacking in courage to it aloud until last night. Standing before that fire, it suddenly seemed the most natural thing in the world to tell the story of Arrowhead Finger, a Penobscot tale which I have privately studied and venerated for months, but which I had hitherto shied away from telling for a number of reasons.  It was one of those "difficult" tales: challenging to tell both for its length and complexity, and also for the content, which includes scenes of torture and redemption, sacrifice and love.  Not an easy tale to tell, or so I thought.  Yet last night it spilled out of me, scene following scene, unhurriedly moving like the St. George River as it flows from one lake to the next.  

Arrowhead Finger is a girl who undergoes a literal trial by fire, and in so doing discovers that her character becomes her salvation.  But I didn't really understand this until I had the courage to tell her story - including the scenes of horror and pain, along with the scenes of healing and love.  We tend, these days, to shy away from stories that have violent content.  Yet it seems to me that it is precisely in these times - when war, torture, and terror surround and threaten us - that we need to explore them, learn from them, and tell them.  At the end of her story, Arrowhead Finger becomes a leader and a teacher among her people; her story can continue to lead and teach, but only if we tellers take heart from her courageous example and tell her story, and stories like it.

Thank you to Roland, Carol, Debra, and the Golden Raven Storytelling Circle for making this telling possible.  And thank you to Arrowhead Finger.

Doria Hughes features at Blues , July 22 2008

This is a Penobscot story about the hero-trickster Glooscap, which I told at Brother Blue's on July 22, 2008.

Featured Teller at Brother Blue's

I am gearing up for my Featured Teller spot this Tuesday, July 22nd at Brother Blue's regular Storytelling evening at the Episcopal Divinity School (click here for a campus map).  If you are in the area, please come!  At 7pm, there is an Open Mic, followed by a break, and then me.  Wish me luck!

Tuesday's at Blue's are special; for me and many other storytellers, they constitute a kind of sacred space, where we can try out stories at various phases in their development for a supportive and welcoming adult audience.  There is very little critique or criticism, other than from Blue himself, who invariably offers us his unique variety of love and praise from his unstinting and inexhaustible inner source.

                                                                    

Of course, I cannot mention Blue without Ruth, his wife, who is responsible for keeping the Tuesdays going, arranging for the Features.  Everybody loves Ruth, most especially Blue!  He says of her, "She's the TRUTH!  She IS the Story!"  We are all so lucky to be blessed by the presence of this wonderful couple, the King and Queen of Storytelling, as far as I am concerned.                                                                    

Gone is Gone

I've been delving into Alison Lurie's book "Clever Gretchen and other forgotten folktales" and enjoying it immensely.  My favorite story is from the Norse tradition (those who know me are aware that I have a weakness for all things Scandinavian), and starts with a husband and wife who decide to switch places for a day.  She heads off to the fields with his scythe, and he stays home to do her chores.  In short order he screws things up so badly that when his wife gets home in the evening, she finds him with his head in the porridge, dangling at the end of a rope from inside the chimney.  (You'll never guess who is at the other end of the rope.) 

The story's message is clear: men and women should stay within their proper spheres and do the work alloted to them, to which they are well-suited.  Absolute chaos will ensue if a man so much as attempts to cook.  Step away from the stove, Wolfgang Puck!!

Interestingly, the story does not describe how the wife fared, except to note that she "had been cutting hay all morning".  We are given to understand that while men are incapable of anything other than straightforward manual labor, the story implies that women are able to perform a man's job competently.  Moreover, with no lunch!

So I have found myself another quandry.  Can I, in good conscience, tell a story whose moral asserts that men and women must remain in separate work spheres?  Is there a way to tell this lovely little tale without doing violence to the socio-cultural ethos from whence it derives?  Must I return the George Forman grill that I just bought for my husband?  

In Lurie's telling, the wife has the last word: she tells her husband to do his work while she does hers, and not talk about it.  I wonder what might have happened if she had given him another chance?  

Obviously she's never tried my husband's waffles.

              

Hip Hop Tale

This past Tuesday I made it back to Brother Blue's weekly open mic and offered up a stripped down, bare bones telling of a naughty bunny.  In Kenya, he is known as Sungura, and thanks to the African diaspora, he evolved into Bre'r Rabbit.  He is surely one of the forefathers of Bugs Bunny, and probably a cousin of Zomo, another wicked rabbit trickster. (Thank you Amazon.com)

I told the story of Sungura and the well, in which the lazy rabbit refuses to help his fellow animals dig a well during a drought; as punishment the animals take turns guarding the well to prevent him from drinking from it.  Naturally, our wily friend tricks them and drinks his fill, only to be tricked in the end by his own impatience and avarice.

What I love about this tale is how its African-American tellers added West African and North American elements to this East African tale, to create a wholly syncretic and marvelously clever new variant of this terrific story which preserves the original luster and lessons of its earlier tellings, while remaining authentically a part of the African-American oral tradition.

That's some clever bunny.

                                                          

The Golden Raven Storytelling Circle

Towards the end of July, I'll be heading north to tell at Roland Watier's Golden Raven Storytelling Circle.  If you haven't been to this marvelous outdoor venue, it is absolutely not to be missed.  There is nothing like storytelling under a rising moon on a warm July night in Maine, as I learned last year!

Come check me out on Saturday July 26, when I'll be joining Debra Ballou for a family program.  Here are directions, and a calendar of upcoming events at the Circle.

MassMouth

Big news everyone!  I want to introduce you all to a new forum for Massachusetts storytellers, called massmouth.  Started by Norah Dooley and Andrea Lovett, this blog promises to be a wonderful way for Bay State Tellers to chat, share ideas + stories, network, and generally Mouth Off.  One of the cool features of this blog is that it has links to Mass. Tellers' blogs (like this one!), so you can catch up with friends and fellow-tellers, weigh in with your thoughts and queries, and see what's the latest buzz.  Check it out!    

Skulls That Talk

I am currently preoccupied with talking skulls.  Not the kind that you plug in and put in the middle of a candy dish at Hallowe'en.  The kind you encounter if you walk through the woods (or a book) with too cocky an air of self-satisfaction.  I've found several variants of this motif - primarily in stories from central Africa - and the narratives they occur in generally go something like this:

Cocky young man walks through the woods

Meets talking skull

Ignores skull's warnings and runs to tell Chief

Brags to Chief about talking skull

Skull won't talk

Chief has young man killed

Skull scolds young man

What fascinates me most about these tales, is that the Skull warns and censures the young man for TALKING.  The moral of these stories, in fact, is that Talking Gets You Into Trouble.  Or, condensed, Talking = Death.  

How can a Storyteller tell this?

First off, it's a funny bit of irony that this particular story has survived for as long as it has, and spread as far from its source as it has; the Talking Skull motif is found in African-American tales and art (see cool sculpture below).  So the story is ambiguous: on the one hand it warns us that talking is dangerous (as I quickly learned in elementary school), however we can read between the lines (so to speak) and understand that talking is what makes us who we are as human beings.  Flawed, cocky, obnoxious, too clever for our own good, and inevitably mortal. But none of that will stop us from telling our truths, and getting into trouble for it.

That talking skull is a challenge - irresistible to a storyteller - to open our mouths and talk back.  The Dead surely speak to us and teach us (if we will only listen), but their stories belong to us, the Living.  We must tell their stories, and also add our own.... and pass them all along.

Let's Keep talking!

Talking Skull, by Meta Fuller, from the Museum of African-American History, Boston

I found this image at ExplorePAhistory.com

Loren Niemi rocks at Passim's

Last night, Loren Niemi told at Passim's - wow.  As I mentioned at the time, I enjoyed the sensation of surrendering myself to the Story of Fata Morgana, the Widow, the Countess, the Baker, and the Map-Maker, as Loren was telling it, being carried away by a combination of his words and my self-generated images.  Storytelling is truly a collaborative venture for this reason: both storyteller and listener co-create the experience as it is occurring.  Even in the act of "surrendering to story" we listeners are still driving the (in the case, broken-down VW bug) bus alongside of the Storyteller.  What a privilege!  I felt like the red dog (fox?) that jumped through the window of the bus to obstinately sit next to the Baker, looking expectantly at him, as if to say "Okay, where to next?"

Tell on, oh tellers, tell on!

A hearty cheer and hug to the inimitable Laura Packer for making this marvelous event a reality.  It was a great show and a packed house!

New Gal concert series

Last night at the Community Music Center in South Boston, we enjoyed a marvelous concert.  It was part of Sarah Bob's New Gallery Concert Series, and it featured the artwork of Jessica Burko, as well as the music of my better half, Curtis Hughes, and other marvelous composers such as Lee Hyla, Donald Martino, Helmut Lachenmann and Arvo Part.  A glorious smorgasbord of music and art!  I had the chance to talk briefly about my grandmother, artist Rosemarie Beck, whose work was also featured last night, in the form of a marvelous self-portrait which she painted in 1955.  To give a sense of the scope of her work, here's something from early on in her career:

House of Venus III, 1957

....and here's something from later on:

Safely in the Harbor, from The Tempest, 1976-77

It was an incredibly satisfying experience for both eye and ear, and I was thrilled at how beautifully members of the Firebird Ensemble played "The Beck Journals Volume 1" and "The Beck Journals Volume 2".  Went home floating on a cloud!

Am I Blue?

Last night was my first night back at Brother Blue and Ruth's open mic in longer than I can remember.  It is truly a privilege to be able to both attend and participate at this strange and marvelous event.  Every time I go, I have the chance to grow as a teller.  How wonderful to see and feel the friendly faces of fellow tellers beaming upon me as I find my way through my latest "discovery".  

This time I tried out a Nigerian-Yoruban folk tale that captured my interest quite some time ago, about a brash young man and a talking skull that teaches him a tough lesson.  (Anyone know this one?  I'm planning on researching it further, I think it has a lot to teach me....)  Part-way through, I realized that I was telling this West African tale as if it was a jewish joke!?!  I've been telling so many of those lately - as I always do this time of year - because of Passover.  Funny how things spill over from one telling to another; in my mind, stories are so inter-connected with each other, I sometimes find it hard to separate them!  But strangely, it is by means of my mental "web" that I remember each one of them so distinctly........

Tonight we had our annual Passover seder, and as usual we told silly Jewish jokes to help keep us going until we could eat.

What's the difference between matzoh and cardboard?

Cardboard doesn't leave crumbs on the carpet!

What did the seder plate say to the matzoh?  Dinner's on me!        

Hey, I didn't say they were good jokes.  I found a "Bag of Plagues" which everybody enjoyed.  And the matzoh ball soup was the best it's ever been!  Now I am STUFFED.  One thing about matzoh, it is very, er, filling.  Anyone who eats enough of it learns the hard way the true meaning behind Moses's famous words: "Let my people go!"  Hence the necessity of adding prunes to the Passover brisket.

Happy Passover!

On Saturday my mother's clan celebrated my grandmother's 85th birthday in Baltimore (at left, you can see her at about age 2).  Naturally, we ate crabcakes and chocolate, and we all sang my ridiculous re-write of "Tradition" from Fiddler on the Roof.  My grandmother is still beautiful at 85, despite having recently finished chemo treatments for lymphoma.  I can only hope that I look half that good at her age.  But at least she has passed on to me her love of books, along with chocolate-lust and good taste in men.  Too bad I didn't also inherit her slender figure, but we can't have everything in life!

I told the story of "Grandmother Spider" (found in Choctaw, Cherokee and Kiowa traditions) in her honor on Saturday night, and it inspired my grandfather to tell a story!!  His telling was so priceless, I just have to pass it on.  Not that I can do him justice, but here goes:

***WARNING*** The following story is rated PG-13***

"Once upon a time all the dogs of the world had a conference.  At the doors of the conference room, there were many pegs on which people could hang their coats.  The dogs didn't have coats, so they hung their @ssholes on the pegs, and then went in.  While they were having their conference, there was a fire.  In the panic and confusion, all the dogs ran out of the conference room and grabbed whatever @sshole they could find.  And that's why, to this day, whenever dogs meet each other, they sniff each others' @ssholes, trying to find their original one."

Watching my grandfather tell a story - and tell it, moreover, with joy and enthusiasm - was a truly moving experience for me, so much so that I could almost forgive him for his inappropriate choice of language in front of my daughter.  At 88, he's earned the right to do or say almost anything.  I just hope his great granddaughter doesn't pick this one for Sharing Time at school someday...........

 

"Guess what my great grampa told me!"

Storytelling with 4-year-olds is fun!

In April of 2007 I had the wonderful opportunity of leading a storytelling workshop for pre-school children at the Cambridge Montessori School during their April Vacation Program. We all had a blast!

Concerts in May

My husband, Curtis, is gearing up for a couple of big performances of several of his pieces in early May.  Naturally, he is nervous. 

 

Curtis, however, takes the art of being nervous to new heights.  

I'd say he's about here now: 

By next week he'll be about here:   Note the coffee.  This is entirely normal for him, and I'm sure plenty of other composers can relate.  Writing music is like gestating and then birthing a baby... and then handing it over to someone else to take care of.  He has to place his trust entirely in the performers, in this case, these folks:

The Radius Ensemble is an incredibly talented and joyous bunch of folks, and totally capable of playing the cr@p out of anything he hands them, so I think it will be fine.  That being said, I am very thankful that, as a Storyteller, I am in charge of my own performances!  From start to finish, it is entirely up to ME and no one else, to see a story through from beginning to end.  If I screw up, no one else is to blame.  And if I can make the audience laugh - or at least chuckle - I can take that with me, too.

I hope lots of folks get to Brother Blue and Ruth Hill's Tuesday Night Storytelling open mic tonight at 7pm.  I'm sorry that I won't be there, since a lot of great storytellers will be present and telling, like Loren Niemi and Mary Stewart.  These artists are not to be missed.... unless, like yours truly, you are solely responsible for a small child for the evening.  

My girl and I plan to have our own storytelling session tonight, during bath time.  And then we will almost certainly read the next chapter of Anne of Green Gables, which is not to be underestimated as mere children's fiction.  No, this book is the genuine article: literature.  I highly recommend it.

Blue + Ruth + all of you: I'll be with you in spirit tonight!

Nifty looking NSN grant

Hmmm, the NSN 2009 Brimstone Award for Applied Storytelling looks like a good grant for storytellers interested in community-based work.........

Sharing the Fire

I'm just back from Sharing the Fire, a wonderful annual conference sponsored by LANES (that's the League for the Advancement of New England Storytellers), and as usual, I had a wonderful time!  This was my third year at STF, and even though I still feel like a newbie, everybody is unfailingly kind and generous with their time and assistance, and I learned a LOT.  Plus I got to tell my recent crop of dirty Jewish jokes, and sing my new favorite folk song in Irish !?!  For a cool Reggae version, sung much better than I could ever do it, check out Sinead O'Connor giving it up on youtube singing it, it's called "Oro sé do bheatha 'bhaile" (no, it's not pronounced the way you think).

STF is more than just my annual solo vacation.  True, late-night parties with Tony Toldeo, hot-tubbing with Laura Packer, and getting back-rubs and sly winks from Jim LaChapelle are definite perks.  But STF is also, ahem, a growth experience for me.  That's not to say that I didn't eat a lot (I did); it's just that I also had the chance to 

a) try out telling a new story in a hot tub

b) hear many sides of controversial and current issues in the storytelling community

c) play

d) listen to some very smart and eloquent people talk and tell

e) see people wear moose hats

and that's not something you can say about the average vacation.  I consider myself very lucky.  Now I have to go transfer the laundry, we'll talk more later.