Today, a last outing before my sister goes back to school, we went with my grandma to the story telling festivle. I'd never been before and it was quite fun. Story time hasn't been on the menu for some time now and it was nice to get to be told stories again. We heard a hillarious cowboy version of Cinderella, comeplete with a "dairy-god-cow." The next story teller was more of a folksey, musical type with harmonica, jews harp and washboard...apparently a lingerie board is the way to go. I was reminded that too folksy is not really my favorite, although it was quite impressive to see someone who could bark while playing the harmonica. The next teller told us African fables, she called them "por qua" (why) stories. It's wonderful the way people can use their voices, inflection and faces to tell a really good story, or not use them to tell a not so great story. Next was a wonderful musician who told us about an instrument called the hammer dulcimer, which in combination with the harpsicord lead to the modern day piano. We heard about the life of a story teller's beloved uncle and the honky tonk he created, a reminder that life can be totally different in foreign parts of the country, or the world. Our favorite story of the day was a "love story," about how a little girl who didn't read came to love reading with the help of her local head librarian. I was laughing so hard that I had tears in my eyes.
The art of story telling is a wonderful art and talent in whatever form it may be possessed, whether it be spoken, writen, acted or filmed.
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