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Story Swap
I seem to have overreacted to the snow, which is not an unusual reaction around here. It had pretty much stopped by the time I left the house to go to the monthly Voices in the Glen story swap. Actually, I only drove to Ralph and Margaret's house, and Ralph drove the rest of the way. Ellouise was hosting this month and we might as well have one fewer car meandering around Maryland.
Ellouise's husband, Jim, had lit their fireplace, which made a nice cozy winter setting. It was a small group - Ellouise, Jim, Ralph, Margaret, Jane, Cricket, and me. But storytelling is definitely an activity where size doesn't matter. Jane told a lovely piece about King Solomon's daughter, Margaret told a Liberian version of the Christmas story, Ralph told a story from Saki having to do with the myth that animals talk on Christmas evening. I was unseasonal with a personal story ("The Secret Place"). I haven't told it in a long time and felt that I didn't tell particularly well, rushing a bit because I was not confident that I was remembering particular details. Ellouise told a personal story that did relate to Christmas time. Jim listens well.
And then we had something of a second round, as Cricket mentioned a bit of American history that led to a couple of stories having to do with what words could be removed from a phrase. I used that to get more seasonal with Eric Kimmel's story about dreidels in Chelm. At the end, Cricket told a beautiful Abenaki story, "The Winter Wife."
We drank cider (the fresh pressed unpasteurized kind, tasting of actual apples and not just sugar water) and ate cookies, including gingerbread men Margaret had baked. In the car on the way back, Margaret commented on a story in which a witch is disappointed that her gingerbread men don't run fast enough, so it doesn't seem quite sporting to catch and eat them. I saw cookie cutters the other day of gingerbread men with body parts already missing. That would be decidedly unsporting except, perhaps, the one who is missing just an arm.
Ellouise's husband, Jim, had lit their fireplace, which made a nice cozy winter setting. It was a small group - Ellouise, Jim, Ralph, Margaret, Jane, Cricket, and me. But storytelling is definitely an activity where size doesn't matter. Jane told a lovely piece about King Solomon's daughter, Margaret told a Liberian version of the Christmas story, Ralph told a story from Saki having to do with the myth that animals talk on Christmas evening. I was unseasonal with a personal story ("The Secret Place"). I haven't told it in a long time and felt that I didn't tell particularly well, rushing a bit because I was not confident that I was remembering particular details. Ellouise told a personal story that did relate to Christmas time. Jim listens well.
And then we had something of a second round, as Cricket mentioned a bit of American history that led to a couple of stories having to do with what words could be removed from a phrase. I used that to get more seasonal with Eric Kimmel's story about dreidels in Chelm. At the end, Cricket told a beautiful Abenaki story, "The Winter Wife."
We drank cider (the fresh pressed unpasteurized kind, tasting of actual apples and not just sugar water) and ate cookies, including gingerbread men Margaret had baked. In the car on the way back, Margaret commented on a story in which a witch is disappointed that her gingerbread men don't run fast enough, so it doesn't seem quite sporting to catch and eat them. I saw cookie cutters the other day of gingerbread men with body parts already missing. That would be decidedly unsporting except, perhaps, the one who is missing just an arm.