We believe that this most ancient of human arts brings people together in enjoyment, wonder and common humanity; that it enhances and facilitates the education of the young, and that, for any audience, the art of telling a story can create “a state of grace” wherein the soul is nourished and the creativity of the imagination is kindled.
The storytellers and story lovers in San Antonio Storytellers Association host a free monthly story swap, “San Antonio Story Night” now on Zoom. Join in on the first Wednesday of any month to hear tales traditional, tall, and true–and, perhaps, tell your story!
The San Antonio Storytellers and guests met on October 5 for a night of story and legend. Seven tellers brought a myriad of tales, from horrific, fitting for the month of Halloween, to ancient Celtic. We heard about Brothers Rabbit and Turtle, about the Baltimore Hippodrome and the Lexington Market, the crafty Moon, and opportunist Anansi.
Gary Whittacker kicked off the night in true October fashion with a story of marauding Martians, a mother bent on no good, friendly bedroom cupboard monsters and three weeks spent without tv. Arrrghh – it was ‘horrible!!
Guest Judy Tarowsky called from her vacation lodge to tell about Brother Rabbit and Brother Turtle, who hatched a plan to ask Miss Mary and friend to go to a dance with them. It involved first nixing Wolf and Co. who had the same intention. Did you know that, when the moon falls into a deep mill-pond, that you can fish it out with a net? While Wolf and friend were doing that Brothers Rabbit and Turtle got to chat up the ladies and secure their interest in accompanying the two to the dance.
Jamie Blount has a talent for telling a story with a maze of side pathways, tangents, and snippets of information. So we learned how much more exciting it was to smuggle store-bought candy into the cinema at the Baltimore Hippodrome than to buy it at the cinema kiosk. That sounded familiar! And Golda Meir, former Prime Minister of Palestine (or was it Israel?): all she wanted was peace. Jamie learned that at the theater which the Hippodrome became in a later life.
Elizabeth Beamon brought an “Anansi” story, he, the eternal opportunist, and optimist. Optimist, because he burned the fuzzy hairs off the top of his head with the stolen hot beans from Snake’s pot. “But they tasted so good!”. Ahhh… Anansi! We love him.
Our own Karen Archer brought the most complicated story of the night: borrowed form the Native American culture, it was a tale of two friends, the Chief’s son and the Hunter’s son who would sit on a hill in the evenings, talking; companions. The Hunter’s son was kidnapped by the moon, and his friend climbed a ladder of arrows to the top of the sky, to rescue him. Here he promptly fell asleep, to be woken by a young girl, telling him where his friend was held captive. She gave him three tools to help in the rescue: a rose branch, a spruce cone and a rock. Of course he rescued his pal, was chased by the angry moon, got away to their grandmother’s home in the sky. She told them that they should go home, sit on their hill and look up at the little bright light beside the moon in the night sky. That was their grandmother.
Now all the grandmothers of storytellers light up the night skies.
Jane McDaniel told an age old story of the Lake Isle of Inishfree, of the chieftain’s daughter Gaella and her love for Oghamra. Romera was an old soldier, proven in battle, who wanted Gaella for his wife and who killed Oghamra in one murderous rage as he sat with Gaella in the woods. Realizing his mistake, Romera threw himself on his sword, dispatching his soul to the Otherworld, while Gaella cried of a broken heart. Her tears filled the valley and were absorbed by the Inish River below. He father, hearing that she had died declared that her body be consigned to the river where it drifted downstream, and birds brought flowers and twigs and mosses to place in her lap. She came to rest in a small lake, now known as Lough Gill (Gealla’s Lough) where she remains today as an island; Inishfree Island. She is remembered in song and poem, as that place “where peace come dropping slow, dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings”. (W.B Yeats).
SASA”s own Nathan Holliner told a short, bright story of how a boy met three girls with increasingly longer teeth. The boy, being scared (or wise) ran home (in fright?)
And John Munley, MC extraordinaire, rounded out the evening with tips for making a story come alive, and how to hook a listener or reader into a story.
All ‘round, a good night with some first class stories and tellers.
Jane McD