|
Papa
Joe ~ Biographical
Stories
To: storytell@VENUS.TWU.EDU
Subject: Tales from a storyteller
Date: Sunday, May 05, 1996 09:10 AM
That Skeleton Was Scary
Last night, I went to a sleep over party to tell stories to group
of children all but two of which had gone through years of my
preschool programs. They were part of the groups of children that
had helped me develop most of my stories. They were now all years
into elementary school and the fun we had telling old favorites
is something I'll never forget. But they did want to hear some of
my new stories and I obliged by telling the story of 'Me'.
For those of you who know the old folktales, 'Me' is
an interactive version of 'My Own Self" collected by Joseph
Jacobs. When I tell it, I ask the group for a boy's name, the
adult he lives with, the kind of house they have, a chore, a
piece of furniture, some games, etc.... I also ask for a scary
monster to go in it.
Now the reason I always ask for the scary monster is so I never
have to worry about scaring the kids. Figuring that if they
picked the monster, they wouldn't be afraid of it. Well last
night, one of the children wanted a living skeleton.
We had a great time with the story, but after the show, when the
others had finally gone off to play, I was approached by the
youngest of the group, one of the two who hadn't seen me before.
She pulled me off to the side. Set me down on the sofa beside
her.
Then she told me that she was scared of the skeleton. That she
had wanted to tell me not to use it, but that her sister had told
her to be quiet. I must have been looking in another direction at
that moment or the exchange was just her story (I was watching as
always for that kind of problem, but you know it is impossible to
see everyone all the time even in a small group of 18).
"Ahh!" said I. "Your sister knew I would never
tell a story if I thought it might scare you. But now what do we
do?" I looked across the room to the family pet, a two year
old rottweiler bitch, which had enjoyed the stories as much as
the children.
"Oh!" said I. "Do you think Rannie likes
bones?" "Yes." said she. "And what do you
think skeleton are made of?" said I. "Bones." said
she. "And what do you think Rannie would do if a skeleton
was around?" "Eat him." said she. "But
Rannie's not my dog. I'm just sleeping here tonight. Then I have
to go home."
"Oh!" said I. "And do you have a dog at
home?" "No." said she. "Well," said I.
"It just so happens that one of the dogs in the story of 'Unanana' had a puppy." Then I pretended to open the door of
my imagination and reach inside to grab a puppy. "You could
have this one," said I. "But it needs a name."
She said, "Rannie! No! Dilbert!" She grabbed for the
puppy and cuddle it to her breast. Jumped up and landed in my lap
with a smile that would have lit the darkest night. Then with a
hug I am sure squished that poor little Dilbert, she was off to
play with the other children.
The skeleton was no longer a threat.
Pax,
Papa Joe
Papa
Joe ~ Biographical
Stories
|