Story Telling
Just back from Philadelphia, where we attended Bryn Mawr's May Day celebrations after doing a lovely, if intimate, Fairy Tale and Folk Lore storytelling hour at Big Blue Marble in Mt. Airy (right outside of Philadelphia).
The weather was disgustingly beautiful, and there was a local festival in full swing close by, so our audience consisted of the loyal and hardy handworn and his two extremely patient and well-behaved offspring. Thank you, handworn. A program without an audience is a sad and lonely thing.
And it was a very good program, too, especially since Ellen and I got lost and stuck in traffic and were really late. The lovely and intelligent vschanoes did an impromptu telling of the Perseus myth, suitably tailored to the tastes of a train-loving (and monster-loving, if his giggles are anything to go by) audience. I read a feminist retelling of "Tatterhood," which is much less nasty than the original, and really, just as good. Judith told a tale of the Pacific Northwest, full of birds in salmon clothes and whales covered in pitch. We talked about stories for a while, and then Ellen and Veronica and I drove back to Bryn Mawr, where we were staying, for dinner, round-singing, and bed-time stories with a graduating senior friend and some of her housemates.
The weather was disgustingly beautiful, and there was a local festival in full swing close by, so our audience consisted of the loyal and hardy handworn and his two extremely patient and well-behaved offspring. Thank you, handworn. A program without an audience is a sad and lonely thing.
And it was a very good program, too, especially since Ellen and I got lost and stuck in traffic and were really late. The lovely and intelligent vschanoes did an impromptu telling of the Perseus myth, suitably tailored to the tastes of a train-loving (and monster-loving, if his giggles are anything to go by) audience. I read a feminist retelling of "Tatterhood," which is much less nasty than the original, and really, just as good. Judith told a tale of the Pacific Northwest, full of birds in salmon clothes and whales covered in pitch. We talked about stories for a while, and then Ellen and Veronica and I drove back to Bryn Mawr, where we were staying, for dinner, round-singing, and bed-time stories with a graduating senior friend and some of her housemates.