This blog is focuses on the power of story. That includes the wisdom that comes from paying attention to our family stories. It also includes ways that people put experience into story and how those stories get shaped and used.
Fiction is story that mirrors life. The complexity of human experience can only be expressed as story. That has been true since the start of time or when the first storyteller began the first story, which might be the same.
Parts of this blog include raw material for my memoir, ideas for my fiction and additional musings.
Went to my son’s latest movie–PLANES. Yes, I say that like he did the whole thing. Actually, I say that like a mother.
Ethan Hurd is an animator who has worked on a number of movies–Toy Story 2, Shek, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, Madagascar, Bolt, etc. etc.
On PLANES he was an assistant supervisor. That means his name came up in the credits larger than before. Mothers notice things like that. So do dads. Jon elbowed me, “Did you see it?” Credits can roll by pretty fast if you’re not paying...
The big news in our family is that we have a new puppy–a Great Dane, of course.
When my cousin heard, she emailed: “Why?”
I answered “Because it’s better than NOT having a puppy.” I was serious. I think life is messy. Might as well embrace the mess.
Jon’s answer to the same question was eloquent.
I am in my seventh decade of life. During most of this time I have had canine companions – mutts, rescues, purebreads. They were all good friends. When my “soul dog” died...
We have a new puppy who is peeing, pissing, and urinating on the living room rug, which can get old before the dog does, so I’m kinda sorta glad I could still laugh when I saw Richard Jackson’s sculpture adorning the Orange County Museum.
Puppies will be puppies. Ours is a Great Dane. Jackson’s is a Labrador. Plenty of labradors walk their owners by my house and stop at the corner of my neighbor’s fence. When we first brought the puppy home, he wouldn’t go near the corner of our neighbor’s fence. Obviously...
Although it happened in 2010, Huffington Post recently reran the story of two seven-year old joy riders, both caught by the police, and how differently the authorities and the media told their stories. Why? One boy was white. One boy was black. Even more interesting is how the difference had been internalized by the two boys themselves.
Preston, the white boy, appeared on the Today Show. His father was happy that he was safe and thought the incident was “funny.” When asked why his hid from the police, Preston answered,...
A lady is an uptight, suburban, church-going bitch who thinks I might be dangerous.
And you’re calling me a lady?
A lady is hairspray and perfume shuffling down the Campbell soup aisle of the local King Soopers.
Do I look like a lady to you?
A lady eats salad with the proper fork and never all of it because she can’t imagine what cucumbers might do to her girlish figure.
Have you seen me eat?
A lady speaks softly. “Excuse me,” is her constant refrain.
If you call me “lady” again, I’ll demonstrate the...
When God created the snake without legs, the hoop snake was having none of it. Taking tail in mouth, he rolled away.
A story told in two sentences is worth noting.
Actually there are many stories of hoop snakes. It’s a legendary creature in American folklore often associated with Pecos Bill stories, but it’s origins might be older. A similar snake in Greek mythology, the ouroboros, was a symbol of eternal return. In Japanese mythology, the tsuchinoko can roll like a wheel and also speak but usually not at the same time. More...
Maybe the Grimm brothers didn’t set out to kill women’s stories, but they did. Here’s what happened:
Rumpenstünzchen was a spinning tale, part of a large number of spinning tales that European women shared while spinning and weaving flax into cloth, an arduous task that was usually done in the evening after all the other tasks were completed (children cared for, meals fixed, animals fed, eggs sold, laundry washed—you get the idea). By the time most women got to the spinning, they were already tired, and so in the company...
I’m on my way out tonight. Dinner with friends. I know how this will go. We will drink a little, eat a lot, and tell stories. At least once during the evening someone will say, “Did I tell you about ____?” I hope we say, “No, not yet,” because the stories that you have to ask if you’ve already told are the ones worth repeating. Dinner with friends equals wine, laughter and good stories. Stories are how we share our lives and friends are the people we share our lives with.
We share our lives by telling about...
Watched the political conventions. Reminded me of Oscar Wilde who famously said: “If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they’ll kill you.”
There was no lack of passion from the Republicans and/or the Democrats. Speaker after speaker argued that their point of view was the one all Americans (if they’re really Americans) ought to embrace.
All that passion aside, a week later, the only thing I remember are the stories. The mother whose baby needed another heart operation but who’d hit...
Learned today that some scholars think the Panchatantra is the origin of all fairy tales. That’s probably not entirely true, but it is one of the oldest sources. It was written in Sanskrit in the 3rd Century BCE by Vishna Sharma who gathered his material from even older versions. Tales from the Panchatantra have spread widely. Today they can be found from Java to Iceland.
The enduring/endearing power of folk tales is the subject of a chapter in my forthcoming book. When you look for family stories, you almost always find stories of the...