MAHALO!

That means "Thank you" in Hawaiian and I do thank all of you for your kind comments and good wishes for a fun-filled trip in Paradise. Here on the island of Kauai life seems to drift along in slow motion, everyone is filled with smiles and Aloha greetings. People actually look you in the eye when they speak to you and let you go first at an intersection! Simply amazing.

Yesterday I spent some time getting the lay of the land after the hotel shuttle took me to the airport to pick up my car rental. It's a Subaru Forester, a smaller type SUV and it's RED!!! I have always wanted a red car and this one is so fun to drive. Even though I am vertically challenged, i.e. short, the car is just the right size for me. I ran some errands around town and met a great gal who works at one of the restaurants near the resort town of Po'ipu. She invited me down on Saturday when she will be working so I plan to meet up with Trish after my helicopter ride around Kauai. Later in the evening we went to dinner at a lovely open air restaurant. The coconut crusted chicken was delicious! Jet lag hit me last night so under the covers I slipped at a fairly early hour.

Yesterday I was up and out the door fairly early with my trusty guidebook and GPS in tow. Actually, the island is pretty easy to navigate. It is one big loop with the town moving towards the center so it isn't too difficult to find your way. I decided to find the beautiful and Wailua Falls for my first stop. The picture at the top of my first Hawaii post is of the falls so I won't insert another here but you can read all about it now! Up, up, up I went, seemingly into the clouds, passing a beautiful cemetery on the way. Yes, beautiful. Each plot was raised, ringed with stones and adorned with exquisite, tropical flowers; I said a silent prayer as I passed.

Kauai is the wettest place on earth with 472 inches of precipitation each year and Mt. Waialeale on Kauai is the rainiest and wettest spot on the planet. As I reached the overlook for the falls large raindrops began to fall but no worries, the showers pass quickly here.

I spent some time taking snapshots of the falls then noticed some flowered leis, some fresh, others long past their prime, and strands of shell necklaces adorning a chain link fence. I walked over and read a heartbreaking piece of poetry and photos encased in plastic to protect it from the elements penned by the family of a young woman who was lost at the falls a few years ago. I couldn't help but wonder what happened to this beautiful young lady, gone too soon, and said another silent prayer.

My next stop was a beautiful, natural phenomenon called the Spouting Horn. It is so interesting I couldn't resist walking further out onto the rocks to take more photos. I also ventured, very gingerly, over to another rock formation, but this time it went down, instead of up, like a huge sink hole.The ocean would rush in, filling it up withing seconds, then recede, only to do it again and again. I stopped to pick up a rock, which appeared to be hardened lava,
but my storytelling friend Mary Garrett, warned me today via email that if I take any rocks from the island I will anger Pele. Back it goes, I don't need the Hawaiian Goddess of the volcano angry at me!

Afterwards I decided to forgo listening to my GPS and explore. I wound my way through the serpentine roads, taking a left here, a right there, until I found myself at a small roadside stand that sold shave ice (no 'd' on the shave). My friend and fellow storyteller Batsy Bybell told me "not to miss it" so I quickly pulled into the parking lot.It is not he same as the snow cones on the mainland. The ice is actually shaved off a big block right in front of you into a fine powder so it's easy to eat. Then it's topped with any one of countless exotic tropical fruit flavors. I chose tropical fruit and mango. The server asked if I wanted a topping and rattled off a number of them. One sounded interesting even though I couldn't pronounce it but when in Rome... Batsy was right, it is delicious! I can't wait to have another.

I continued to drive here and there. One road took me through a tunnel of trees aptly named, The Tree Tunnel. As I passed through I felt encased and serenely safe as the sun streaked through the branches, making a surreal zig zag pattern of light. Later I found out from a local that they were eucalyptus trees. In the early 1900's a cattle rancher was landscaping his home and had 500 trees left over. He donated them to locals who planted them. The swamp mahogany, as the tree is known, formed a beautiful "tree corridor". Although it is still lovely hurricanes have damaged the tops so they no longer completely intertwineas they once did. It is said that in ancient times if you came up a road lined in such a way it meant that the road led to royalty.

As I explored throughout the day I marveled at the beautiful jagged mountains everywhere I turned, some wrapped in soft clouds of white, others crystal clear, softly drapped in gowns of lush green against a breathtaking azur sky. It was grand to people watch as well. Older, weathered face men sold their wares of fresh ahi and shrimp from their makeshift roadside stores or from the back of their trucks, young men speed by on motorcycles with longboards (surfboards) strapped on the the side with bungee cords, and mothers played with their children in the surf. All in all a grand way to spend a day!

Aloha for now. Time to begin "just another day in paradise!"

Aloha!

Life is an adventure! My day began at 4:00 a.m. as I quickly dressed to head into Boston and catch the first leg of my Hawaiian adventure! I made sure I had a window seat for the entire duration so I could enjoy the scenery as I winged my way from one coast to the next. Most of the time we were high above the clouds but once in a while they would part and offer a glimpse of the varying topography that makes our country so unique. Along the way I saw the beautiful Sierra Nevada Mountains, jagged and still snow capped, then just as quickly, as if there were an invisible curtain between them, the mountains turned to a lush, soft moss green.

As we began to descend to land in San Francisco, the land below appeared segmented and multicolored as if an artist had purposely drawn kohl lines then painted each section individually, offering an appealing mélange of rust, orange, green and yellow. I wish I knew what I was looking at but the pilot offered no description.

On the last leg of my journey, from San Francisco to Honolulu my seat mate was a lovely young woman from Denmark, now living in California. She works for the consulate and was transferred to the USA where she would live for the next four years. She was enamored with the beauty of our country and came equipped with a long list of things to see. I suggested she add the Grand Canyon to it but she was way ahead of me. We talked of the different places to visit in the world, so much to see, and she encouraged me to visit Rome, a city that has found a way to marry the ancient with the modern, with wonders waiting around every corner.

As we began our descent to Honolulu I could see Mount Kilauea in the distance sending hot plumes of volcanic steam into the air. Just beyond was another island, sparsely populated, which offered up the remnants of another ancient volcano, its side scooped out, like a colossal quart of soft ice cream. It no longer held red hot lava but was now filled with bright green vegetation.

The layover in Honolulu was a bit over three hours. The gentleman who ferried me over to Honolulu airlines gently and comically admonished all of us on the shuttle not to rush saying, “In Hawaii we hang loose. I checked this morning and the islands are still there!” As an East Coast gal, naturally prone to hurrying, I will remember to repeat this mantra during my stay. The last leg of my journey ended in Kauai, ending my 17 hour journey and depositing me amid the soft, warm breezes of the Pacific.

By the time I slipped beneath the welcoming covers of my bed I had been awake for 24 hours; I slept in my first morning attempting to overcome my jet lag.
When I finally decided to greet the day I rolled back the charming, white washed wooden slats of my patio doors and was greeted by abundant sunshine, lovely, tiny birds flitting about and velvety red orange tropical hibiscus flowers, dotting the landscape. Off in the distance I could hear the gentle rolling of the waves on the beach I would explore later in the day.

Since my trip was very spur of the moment I decided to spend my first afternoon by the pool, reading up on the delightful excursions available on the island. I already have a luau booked for Friday and I know for certain that sometime this week I will take a sightseeing helicopter tour of Kauai, or the Garden Island as it known.

Right now I am sitting in the hotel lounge, waiting for my dinner partners to appear. A wonderful duo of musicians play and sing for all of us, one strumming the guitar, the other lovingly caressing the bongo drums. The tiki torches are filling the early evening air with their flickering glow, the Pacific roars in the distance and the veggie sushi is to die for! Life is good. Wish all of you were here! Aloha!

Walking the Talk

It has been a while since I last posted and thankfully it looks like my leap of faith might be working out. There are so many new avenues opening up that my head is swimming, but it's all good!

Last weekend I attended the Sharing the Fire conference in Nashua, New Hampshire hosted by the LANES organization. I posted an overview of my time at the conference on the Storytell listserv and I share it with here as well. My apologies to anyone I left out.

The weekend started off in grand fashion meeting Csenge from Budapest, Hungary in the lobby of the hotel. She is truly everything folks have shared about her, a lovely young woman full of energy and delight. We were able to spend some time together and I had fun introducing her to the STF community as we wandered about. I am sad to say I missed her showcase as I was hosting another one at the time, but I consoled myself knowing that I will have the opportunity to see perform again soon.

The Friday night concert began with Simon Brooks. I have heard Simon tell before but he just gets better and better each time I have the opportunity to be in the audience. He shared The Story Untold, The Song Unsung. Simon is incredibly relaxed on stage, alternately playing with the audience and the story. He is such a strong performer and I have no doubt we will be hearing a lot more from him. Simon is from England so to use his natural vernacular, I think he is bloody brilliant!

Jean Armstrong shared her animated, funny and poignant personal tale about attending a dance festival. I had the pleasure of seeing her perform this at the NSN fringe in Pennsylvania in 2006 and it was just as much fun the second time around.

Uncle George, as he is fondly known in our New England circle, shared the folktale The Tiger's Whisker. A well-know tale to be sure but he told it with a personal passion and made it his own. We talked a bit afterwards and he shared that he had worked on it a great deal, being coached by a number of people and it helped him immensely. Another plug for story partner work!

The last person in the set that night was a librarian from NH whose name unfortunately escapes me. I believe who just won the Librarian of the Year Award. She told a fractured version of Cinderella that was fall off your seat funny! Her presentation was filled with dry, hysterical wit that was so polished it appeared effortless. I don't know if it is is her original version, I suspect it is, and if so, she needs to get the story published. A true delight.

I presented a three hour workshop, Storytelling With Ease, on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, last minute preparations kept me away from Susan Klein's keynote but I heard she was fabulous! The focus of my workshop was beginning storytelling skills and judging by the evaluations it went very well. Eighteen librarians, educators and folks interested in storytelling were present. They were an attentive, receptive audience, willing to play and learn. Our goal was to learn one story by the end of the workshop and present it to the group.

One attendee, Wesley, a young adult age 15 stood up in front of the group full of adults and shared the story of The Stone Cutter. This is a difficult cumulative tale and even though it was a very shortened version I would have pulled out of the pile of stories to use had I realized it was there, yet he took the challenge and did a wonderful job. His mother found me later at the conference and shared that he had actually performed the story for her later in their room. Her words were "What did you do to my son? He is incredible shy, I can't believe he performed the story for me!" Of course it wasn't me, it was the magic of storytelling. Hopefully, we will hear and see much more of this young man in the future.

Late Saturday afternoon I attended a workshop on Storytelling and Literacy with June Peloso. She offered some wonderful information, statistics and activities. I wish her workshop had been longer, she has so much to share and truly does great work.

On Saturday night there was the main OLIO and it was grand. There was a very eclectic mix of stories and tellers, including Dave McPherson, known for his poetry slams in Boston, Slash Coleman, an awarded winning playwright, Robert Perkins, filmmaker and writer whose work has been shown on PBS, Leeny Del Seamonds a well-known teller who appears at festivals around the country and Cris Riedel. It was a terrific mix of styles and genres that worked incredibly well and certainly highlighted that there is room for all kinds of storytellers and styles.

Everyone was grand, especially Cris Riedel who performed Possum's Tail. I have known Cris for years, taken her workshops but never heard her tell. She is fabulous! Her voice is so rich and full, no wonder she's a voice coach. Her telling style is relaxed, fun and intimate. She made a huge roomful of people feel as if she was telling just to them. I can't wait to hear her again.

Leeny was her usual effervescent self, sharing the delightful bi-lingual folktale, Who Rules the Roost. I wish I had her ability to deftly switch from one language to another, without missing a beat.

Saturday night found me in Regi Carpenter's room, an incredibly talented teller who was awarded the J.J. Reneaux award for emerging tellers, conferred by the NSN. There is no question in my mind why she received it. Regi gave us, about 12 in all, a private performance of the fringe piece she will share in TN at the National Storytelling Conference. It is the amazing story of her father and family, interspersed with songs that fit each era. Regi can not only tell, that girl can sing! The story is heartwarming and heart wrenching, filled with all of the pathos and joy life throws our way. Truly not to be missed.

Sunday morning began with another keynote, this time we were treated to the insightful words of Lee-Ellen Marvin. Although Lee-Ellen is not an elder in the numerical sense of the word, she is truly an elder in our community. She has accomplished so much, gives of herself in so many ways and continues to mentor students in the art of storytelling. Her keynote was powerful, wise, humorous, encouraging and made you want to jump up out of your chair and make a difference in the world.

Later on I sat in on a coaching workshop offered by Jackson Gillman. Three folks are chosen by lottery but others can observe, which is what I did. I was glad I went as I learned so much from Jackson. His coaching style is gentle but spot on! He is truly a master at knowing what works and what can be improved upon. If you ever have the opportunity to be coached by him don't pass it by.

The last workshop I attended was by Molly Catron, Storytelling in the Business Jungle. Molly is from TN who has worked in the business world for 20 years and she knows her stuff! She packed a lot of information into 90 minutes; her workshop could easily be an intensive, she has so much to share that comes from her "in the trenches" experience, not just from books.

The closing ceremony was lovely, filled with music and dancing, honor those past, those present and those who will follow in our footsteps. Three youth tellers shared their stories with the audience. One young man, Dylan, is 12 years old and brought the house down with his original story of how God gave humans the give of speech. At the beginning of the story God realizes his mistake and Dylan slapped himself on the forehead and in place of "Oh my God" said "Oh my self!" It was just one of the many hysterical, creative moments of his story. He is one to watch!

Well, there you have it, my highlights, at least those that I can remember at the moment. Again, my apologies for leaving anyone out. The weekend was full and rich, it was grand to see old friends, make new ones and be filled to the brim with stories! Sincere thanks to Lauretta Phillips, this years conference chair, and all the volunteers who made it work! I hope they are all taking a well-deserved rest right about now!

On another note, this week I had a wonderfully productive meeting with the director of a local arts organization. The director and I will be part of a city-wide Literacy Summit
this coming week and hopefully bolster an interest in storytelling and education. The organization is committed to working with other community organizations and schools to bring families, educators and the arts together in an accessible and productive learning environment. We have a lot of ideas brewing and will continue to work together on a number of projects, including an after school student storytelling program, teacher training, an evening open mic for adults, and more. Stay tuned!

Another storytelling friend and I have a new, long range project in the works as well. We haven't yet unveiled it as we are still fine tuning the details; please check back later to learn about it and share in our excitement.

As I said before, serendipity is a wonderful thing; I would never have the time to work on all these diverse projects had I not left my office position in March. So, onward and upward, exciting, new adventures await. I hope our paths cross along the road!

Serendipity and a Leap of Faith

Serendipity, I have always loved that word. It comes from the Persian folktale, The Three Princes of Serendip; "as their highnesses travelled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of..."

You see, my entry into the world of storytelling back in 1999 was a very serendipitous event.It was then that I attended a teacher's conference in New Hampshire and one day, during our lunch break, we were treated to a wonderful storyteller. She shared amazing tales of growing up in Africa, woven around lush folktales from her culture. I was hooked! Although I graduated with an degree in English Literature I was unaware of this ancient art of Oral Tradition or a career in storytelling. When I returned home I immediately began to research. This is not as easy as it sounds, we are talking pre-Google time! Within a few months I attended my first storytelling workshop and within a year my first Northlands Storytelling Conference in Iowa. I began my new journey, at first taking baby steps, then skipping along for a bit, and later running to catch up, thankful for the many hands and voices that lifted me up when I stumbled along the way.

So in this Leap Year I decided to take my own personal leap. After 14 years working at my local elementary school I submitted my resignation. I have decided to move from part-time/sometime storyteller to full time teller. I finish in three weeks but will continue to work with my student storytelling troupe. My administrator has assured me that as long as he is there the program will continue. I am blessed.

As I leave the cold, crisp days of February in New England behind and welcome in the windy days of March, it is with a mixture of hope, faith, and a wee bit of trepidation that I begin another journey. I know it won't happen overnight but if not now when? As the Chinese proverb teaches, "The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now."

A Step Back in Time

My mother was one of the funniest and most genuine people I have ever known and she raised me on a steady diet of family stories about her childhood. She grew up in a large Irish Catholic family surrounded by eleven brothers and sisters. A family that large would tax any bank account but she and her brothers were brought up during the Great Depression when times were especially difficult. Yet love still lined the walls of their home.


I still remember laughing at the crazy tales of sibling rivalry between Mom and her sister Margaret. Irish twins they were yet they were so different in many ways. Margaret was the one with the magic mirror and the ‘come hither’ strut. Mom was more shy and unassuming, never believing that she was a natural beauty, but their bond was unshakeable.

I don't remember my mother ever striking me as a child so I would wince when she shared how my grandmother would line up all twelve of the children and dole out her strict brand of discipline at the end of a strap they called a “cat and nine tails.” That strap went through many incarnations as the children did their best (or worse) to hide it from their mother’s reach. As a child I giggled with delight each time my mother told me how our very own family trickster, Uncle Eddie, stuffed it into the cast iron tea kettle only to be discovered, to my grandmother’s horror, when she poured a cup of tea for the visiting parish priest. Through the years I would plead, “Tell me again”.

It has been said many times over that the grandmother I never knew was strong-willed and resourceful; so capable she was able to convince her neighbor to switch houses, no banks involved. The stuff of Depression Era legend to be sure! These stories sometimes sounded like Tall Tales but were always corroborated by my aunts and uncles if I dared question their authenticity.

I never recorded those stories and didn’t fully understand their value until I found storytelling. Sadly, my mother passed away eleven years ago and the time has come and gone when I could ask her to “Tell me again.” So this past weekend I decided not to let another opportunity pass me by. I spent the day with her brother, my godfather Laurie. If I owe my storytelling skills to anyone besides my mother it would be him, a true Irishman, quick to laugh, sing a song, tell a story or lend a hand; the man who has graciously, and sometimes with trepidation, taken on the mantel of family patriarch over the years.

So this Sunday I set up the tripod and camera and we settled in. Although I came prepared with a clipboard full of questions, they were not needed. He quickly fell into an easy rhythm; I found myself whisked away to the Emerald Isles, watching my grandfather grow up as a street urchin with his two brothers, Shanty Irish they were. Then, in what seemed like an instant he was old enough to walk onto a ship, make his way down to steerage class and emerge on Ellis Island. Little did he know that a woman named Mary, Lace Curtain Irish was she, from Ballyhaunis, County Mayo, would make that same journey years later and one day become his wife.

Throughout the afternoon we made our way over the ocean, to the docks of New York, down to Massachusetts where grandfather easily found work in his trade as a mason. Although his sponsor was in Chicago he learned there were opportunities in the city of New Bedford where numerous red brick textile mills were being built, mills that still dot the landscape today. Later in life he stopped “slinging mud on the walls” to take up a more decorative and artistic type of masonry, that is unfortunately a lost art. Some of his most beautiful work can still be found throughout the city, particularly the golden Grecian dancers that grace the walls in the exquisitely restored Zeiterion Theatre. They bring me comfort and a grand sense of pride each time I attend a performance there.

My Shanty Irish grandfather grabbed his piece of the American Dream and soon built a very successful business, which was decimated during the great crash; he never fully recovered. There were other stories shared that day, some funny, some poignant and we have not finished this journey yet. We will meet again for there are many more years and lives to explore but I am forever grateful for the warmth of family and stories on a cold New England day.

Paper Memories

I confess, I hate clutter but that doesn't stop it from piling up from time to time. Today I awoke with a sense of purpose, I would tackle those household jobs that seem to be swept aside all too easily as the days turn into weeks, then months, and sometimes years. I would conquer and clean my office today!

It has gone through a number of transitions through the years and the time is long overdo for another makeover. I vowed to weed through all of the piles of paperwork, cull my overflowing files of old articles, emails, notes and photos. It was time for Operation ODP! (Organize, Dust and Polish)

But you know the old saying when it comes to cleaning, "It will get worse before it gets better." So here I sit, after hours of attempted paper purging surrounded by even more piles of files. What has taken me so long you might ask? Well, you see, as I weeded through all the clutter, bits of tangible, tactile memories began to float to the surface, whispering "Stop and remember."

There was the bookmark my storytelling mentor and friend, Leanne Johnson gave to me. A stunning graphic of her graces the front; she is smiling, waving, urging us to come, sit, listen and share. I place it in a new book I just bought, she will be safe there.

In another pile I found the silly business card she made for me. We were joking one day about what we should place on our business cards and I said, very definitively, "I want mine to read, The all knowing goddess of light and love, ruler of the planets, stars and outer galaxies." Always ready for a good laugh Leanne quickly printed up a set of cards on her home computer and mailed them straight away to me. Just holding them makes me smile.

To the right of my desk, in back of some notepads were photos taken at the National Festival in Jonesboro through the years. Groups of us laughing, huddling close, wearing heavy coats, hats and gloves because it was so cold. The next shows us all sporting short sleeves and sandals, beaming in the warm sunshine; Indian Summer weather to be sure. The photos make me wistful for friends I haven't seen in a long time and those I will probably never see again.

To the left, tucked between two folders is a birthday card from my dear friend Meg. In this fast paced world of emails and e-cards, Meg took the time to author a lovely handwritten note. Her words filled me with joy then, and do now. I keep this card to read again and again, reminding me how lucky I am to have friends such as her. No, this definitely won't find its way into the wastebasket.

Ahhh, tucked away in one of my many file drawers I discover colorful crayon pictures drawn by some children who came to one of my storytelling shows. I can't let them go either; their happiness jumps right off the page, filled with the irresistible charm of youth. I will scan them and one day place them up on my website for others to enjoy.

I finally find something that I am ready to toss into the wastebasket, a storytelling newsletter from England, circa 2001. Oh but wait, as I sit cross-legged on the floor, I can't resist flipping through the pages one last time. There, on page 16 sits a lovely story, one I have never read before and it shouts, "Keep me, learn me, tell me!" I make myself a note about the tale so it will not languish any longer in limbo, and back into the file it goes.

Among the Coppermine Eskimos, Cree and Ojibwa, there is no word for goodbye; I can relate. Yes, it seems that today I kept many more things than I let go, but each is important and holds a place in my heart. So I will sweep as many cobwebs away as I can, rearrange the books on my shelves, clear a spot for me to set my tea down, and begin anew tomorrow.

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Happy Chinese New Year! 2008 is the Year of the Rat. Every Chinese New Year is associated with one of the 12 animals found in the Chinese zodiac: the rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, sheep, monkey, rooster, dog and pig.

According to Chinese legend the twelve animals quarreled one day as to who was to head the cycle of years. The gods were asked to decide and they held a contest: whoever was to reach the opposite bank of the river would be first, and the rest of the animals would receive their years according to their finish.

All the twelve animals gathered at the river bank and jumped in. Unknown to the ox, the rat had jumped upon his back. As the ox was about to jump ashore, the rat jumped off the ox's back, and won the race. The pig, who was very lazy, ended up last. That is why the rat is the first year of the animal cycle, the ox second, and the pig last. http://www.kented.org.uk/ngfl/festivals/chinese/animals.html

All of the animals in the Chinese zodiac represents some positive trait except the rat. For example:

Oxen - Industriousness
Tiger - Power
Rabbits - Smartness
Dragons - Dignity
Horses - Vigor
Sheep - Gentleness
Monkeys - Cleverness
Roosters - Faithfulness
Dogs - Loyalty
Snakes - Flexibility
Pigs - Fortune

But the poor rat is nowhere to be found. So why is this wayward rodent given the honor or representing the Chinese New Year from time to time? Some say it is because rats made three great contributions to humanity.

1) Rats have created the universe. In Chinese folk tales, the sky and the earth were originally not separated. One day, a little rat ran out, saw the confusion, and gave a big bite to the entanglement of the sky and the earth, which separated the sky and the earth finally. So, people consider the little rat the hero that has created a new era.

2) Rats bring about light to humanity. It is said that after the rat separated the sky and the earth, a big black cloud blocked out the sun. Neither people nor animals could see in such darkness. So, the little rat and its friends set out to steal the sunlight and light up the earth.

3) Rats stole seeds of grains to feed humanity. From that time people on the earth began to farm and feed themselves.

Interested in reading more about our furry friend and the Chinese New Year?
Go to China.org

There are many wonderful myths, folktales and legends from China. Here is one book published in 1848 that is now in the public domain. You can even download a copy for free for your own files.
Chinese Legends or The Porcelain Tower by Thomas Henry Sealy

For more story links on China visit my Storytelling Links page on my website.

And in case your wondering, my Chinese Zodiac sign is the sheep, as was Mark Twain's, not bad company at all! So my friends, in the venacular of the
1970's "What's your sign?"

Karen