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fauxkloreA storytelling festival within a few hours drive on a day when I have nothing scheduled? I am so definitely there. And when it a) features Willy Claflin and b) is free, just try to keep me away.
I'd intended to get there when the festival actually started at 9:00 a.m., but I never do quite manage to get out of the house as early as I intend to and the drive took a little longer than Mapquest told me it would, probably because: a) Mapquest doesn't figure in time to stop for gas, b) Mapquest doesn't know about roadwork or weather (it was pouring heavily around the Maryland/Delaware border), and c) Mapquest suggested that the church where the festival was being held was on the street I was driving on, but I really had to bear left at a fork in the road to get into the parking lot. I got there about 9:30 ish, having missed Motoko's set in the first Olio (and most of Ed Stivender's, but I've heard him plenty of times before). I did get to hear all of Danaher & MacCloud, who told an enjoyable mix of Irish stories (mostly somewhat joky ones) and ballads (focused on moonshine).
The second olio featured Willy Claflin and Baba Jamal Koram. Willy told a lovely story about his father's approach to life and he brought out Maynard Moose. Maynard, of course, tells Mother Moose tales to communicate traditional moose values. If I recall correctly, his version of The Grasshopper and the Ants was in this session. Baba Jamal told a story about Martin Luther King and what I think was a traditional African story. I respect his performing skills, but neither story was particularly to my taste.
Then, there was an open mike. I told my version of the Chelm story about capturing the moon. I don't think I did a particularly good job of it, perhaps because I had been indecisive about what to tell. The real highlight of the swap was a 7-year-old girl named Olivia. I usually cringe when somebody that young gets up to tell, but she had a coherent story (written largely by her mother) and told it well, with lots of emotion and expression and only a brief moment of hesitation when she forgot her place at one point.
There was a break for lunch, which also allowed for conversation with other attendees. Not that the food for sale was all that inspiring (they had chicken noodle soup, tomato soup, hot dogs, and meatball sandwiches), but it was convenient not to have to drive a couple of miles to eat.
The afternoon started with WIlly Claflin again. He told a complicated story about memory games he played with his mother and the first story he wrote. He also told Rufus Bly and the Lobster Wife, which I'd heard before but still find hysterically funny. The type of humor I like has to do with incongruity, and you don't get a lot more incongruous than strumming a guitar with a lobster squeak toy. Maynard Moose came out again, with Stupid Jack and the Stupid Beanstalk.
Danaher and MacCloud's hour long set was pretty much more of the same with respect to what they'd done in the olio. It was enjoyable enough, but there's nothing unfamiliar to say anything about.
Baba Jamal Koram's featured performance included a personal story that is probably my favorite of his, involving rock and roll music and teenage love and coming of age. Then he told a long (literary) story about a girl who has a merwoman become like a second mother to her.
I should mention that the church pews were decidedly hard on the backside. The problem is less lack of cushioning as the pews not being really deep enough to be comfortable. I guess that: 1) Presbyterians don't have very lengthy church services and 2) they didn't much care about comfort when they built churches 288 years ago. Bill and his wife had come for the afternoon and discovered that the pews in the upstairs gallery were deeper and, hence, more comfortable. They hailed to me and I went up to join them, which helped me enjoy the rest of the day more.
Next up was Ed Stivender, who did pretty much his usual shtick. I find some of that entertaining (e.g. his version of Cinderella), but some of it just doesn't resonate with me. Again, it's a matter of appreciating the performance skills, but the material not really being my sort of thing. That was particularly true of his take on St. Francis of Assisi telling the story of how G-d wants people to party party party. I don't find it offensive, per se, but it's just weird in a different direction than my weird is.
Since Bil Lepp had a conflict preventing him from participating in an olio, he got a special short set at the end of the afternoon. He told stories which focused somewhat on his days as a preacher, with his usual tall tale touches. (There's a reason Bil won the West Virginia Liar's Contest 5 times.) He was, as always, very funny.
The dinner break allowed everyone to sample the entries in the church's chili cookoff. In my case, I thought of this as mostly a cheap supper, since I have low expectations for the heat level of mid-Atlantic chili. My expectations were met, alas, but the vegetarian chili was decent even if it could have used a few dashes of hot sauce.
Willy Claflin got to start off the evening, too. He did just part of "The George Washington Method for Blues Ukulele" to make sure we all remember that it was Martha, not George, who invented the kazoo. Then he talked about the Intergalactic Storytelling Festival in Rosswell, New Mexico and had alien stories. That is, stories told by aliens. Finally, Maynard got to come out again. He told "The Bully Goat Grim" and then did an improv with a young moose he mentors (voiced by the very brave Bil Lepp).
Next was Motoko. I hadn't heard her tell before and enjoyed her mix of traditional Japanese stories and personal material. I was particularly pleased to hear her version of a fart story I'd heard Katy tell a while ago. I was also glad to hear her stories of Master Miser and Mister Stingy, since I have been working on a rakugo about misers.
I left at the evening intermission, since I was fading fairly rapidly, so missed hearing Bil Lepp's longer set. I've heard him plenty of times and he is relatively local, so I decided it was okay to take off.
I drove down to Newark to spend the night. Mapquest, again, failed me, as they gave no indication that I needed to stay in the left lane to stay on Route 141. Since Delaware doesn't believe in giving anybody more than about 5 feet of warning for things like that, I had to do a bit of circling around to get back to I-95. Driving on unfamiliar roads in darkness and rain is always stressful, anyway, and I hadn't attempted driving home last night.
All in all, the festival was definitely worth the effort and I will certainly put it on the calendar for future years.
I'd intended to get there when the festival actually started at 9:00 a.m., but I never do quite manage to get out of the house as early as I intend to and the drive took a little longer than Mapquest told me it would, probably because: a) Mapquest doesn't figure in time to stop for gas, b) Mapquest doesn't know about roadwork or weather (it was pouring heavily around the Maryland/Delaware border), and c) Mapquest suggested that the church where the festival was being held was on the street I was driving on, but I really had to bear left at a fork in the road to get into the parking lot. I got there about 9:30 ish, having missed Motoko's set in the first Olio (and most of Ed Stivender's, but I've heard him plenty of times before). I did get to hear all of Danaher & MacCloud, who told an enjoyable mix of Irish stories (mostly somewhat joky ones) and ballads (focused on moonshine).
The second olio featured Willy Claflin and Baba Jamal Koram. Willy told a lovely story about his father's approach to life and he brought out Maynard Moose. Maynard, of course, tells Mother Moose tales to communicate traditional moose values. If I recall correctly, his version of The Grasshopper and the Ants was in this session. Baba Jamal told a story about Martin Luther King and what I think was a traditional African story. I respect his performing skills, but neither story was particularly to my taste.
Then, there was an open mike. I told my version of the Chelm story about capturing the moon. I don't think I did a particularly good job of it, perhaps because I had been indecisive about what to tell. The real highlight of the swap was a 7-year-old girl named Olivia. I usually cringe when somebody that young gets up to tell, but she had a coherent story (written largely by her mother) and told it well, with lots of emotion and expression and only a brief moment of hesitation when she forgot her place at one point.
There was a break for lunch, which also allowed for conversation with other attendees. Not that the food for sale was all that inspiring (they had chicken noodle soup, tomato soup, hot dogs, and meatball sandwiches), but it was convenient not to have to drive a couple of miles to eat.
The afternoon started with WIlly Claflin again. He told a complicated story about memory games he played with his mother and the first story he wrote. He also told Rufus Bly and the Lobster Wife, which I'd heard before but still find hysterically funny. The type of humor I like has to do with incongruity, and you don't get a lot more incongruous than strumming a guitar with a lobster squeak toy. Maynard Moose came out again, with Stupid Jack and the Stupid Beanstalk.
Danaher and MacCloud's hour long set was pretty much more of the same with respect to what they'd done in the olio. It was enjoyable enough, but there's nothing unfamiliar to say anything about.
Baba Jamal Koram's featured performance included a personal story that is probably my favorite of his, involving rock and roll music and teenage love and coming of age. Then he told a long (literary) story about a girl who has a merwoman become like a second mother to her.
I should mention that the church pews were decidedly hard on the backside. The problem is less lack of cushioning as the pews not being really deep enough to be comfortable. I guess that: 1) Presbyterians don't have very lengthy church services and 2) they didn't much care about comfort when they built churches 288 years ago. Bill and his wife had come for the afternoon and discovered that the pews in the upstairs gallery were deeper and, hence, more comfortable. They hailed to me and I went up to join them, which helped me enjoy the rest of the day more.
Next up was Ed Stivender, who did pretty much his usual shtick. I find some of that entertaining (e.g. his version of Cinderella), but some of it just doesn't resonate with me. Again, it's a matter of appreciating the performance skills, but the material not really being my sort of thing. That was particularly true of his take on St. Francis of Assisi telling the story of how G-d wants people to party party party. I don't find it offensive, per se, but it's just weird in a different direction than my weird is.
Since Bil Lepp had a conflict preventing him from participating in an olio, he got a special short set at the end of the afternoon. He told stories which focused somewhat on his days as a preacher, with his usual tall tale touches. (There's a reason Bil won the West Virginia Liar's Contest 5 times.) He was, as always, very funny.
The dinner break allowed everyone to sample the entries in the church's chili cookoff. In my case, I thought of this as mostly a cheap supper, since I have low expectations for the heat level of mid-Atlantic chili. My expectations were met, alas, but the vegetarian chili was decent even if it could have used a few dashes of hot sauce.
Willy Claflin got to start off the evening, too. He did just part of "The George Washington Method for Blues Ukulele" to make sure we all remember that it was Martha, not George, who invented the kazoo. Then he talked about the Intergalactic Storytelling Festival in Rosswell, New Mexico and had alien stories. That is, stories told by aliens. Finally, Maynard got to come out again. He told "The Bully Goat Grim" and then did an improv with a young moose he mentors (voiced by the very brave Bil Lepp).
Next was Motoko. I hadn't heard her tell before and enjoyed her mix of traditional Japanese stories and personal material. I was particularly pleased to hear her version of a fart story I'd heard Katy tell a while ago. I was also glad to hear her stories of Master Miser and Mister Stingy, since I have been working on a rakugo about misers.
I left at the evening intermission, since I was fading fairly rapidly, so missed hearing Bil Lepp's longer set. I've heard him plenty of times and he is relatively local, so I decided it was okay to take off.
I drove down to Newark to spend the night. Mapquest, again, failed me, as they gave no indication that I needed to stay in the left lane to stay on Route 141. Since Delaware doesn't believe in giving anybody more than about 5 feet of warning for things like that, I had to do a bit of circling around to get back to I-95. Driving on unfamiliar roads in darkness and rain is always stressful, anyway, and I hadn't attempted driving home last night.
All in all, the festival was definitely worth the effort and I will certainly put it on the calendar for future years.
