Clapping, counting and tapping: using fingerplays with young children

Last summer, I gave a workshop on fingerplays to a large group of early childhood educators. It was so fun! Whether you’re a teacher, parent, grandparent, storyteller or even a babysitter, you’ll find that young children enjoy these simple bits of silliness. Here’s one I learned from a group of kindergartners in Belgium (I posted this a while ago, but not with my own hands, with my hereditary crooked fingers):

First of all, what is a fingerplay? It’s a simple song or chant for children, using the fingers. Remember “Where Is Thumbkin”? That is a fingerplay. These are low-tech, simple and fun ways to connect with children.

Fingerplays and rhymes are great for engaging young minds. Here are some benefits:

• teaching simple math,

• enhancing small and large motor coordination,

• building listening skills and appropriate participation,

• offering valuable prereading skills such as rhythm, rhyme, sequencing and prediction.

Johnny Woops is one of the simplest fingerplays I know, and it works with tiny children up to about six-year-olds. You can use any names you want. Parents can do this fingerplay on their baby’s hands. One of the nice things about this one is that children cross the midline of the body. The two sides of the brain must work together that way, as we do when we read right to left. Brain exercise!

As I prepared for the workshop, I thought back to my own childhood. “Here are my lady’s knives and forks” was a fingerplay I remembered. “Two little blackbirds” was another (Google these if you don’t know them). My public library and my own personal library have books of fingerplays.

I also went on the hunt online, turning first to jbrary. The two librarian hosts have put together an amazing treasury of stories, songs and games. Here’s one I love, not exactly a fingerplay but close:

In my search, I found quite a few songs and fingerplays by Dany Rosevear that suit me well. I especially like the old-fashioned “Wind the Bobbin Up”, though I did have to explain to my storytime kids what a bobbin is. This one enhances large motor skills.

I hope some of these will suit you. If they don’t, look for some that do! I’d love to hear about your favorite fingerplays and action songs.

Ch-ch-ch-changes! Zoom storytime shifting yet again

What a ride we’ve been on! In March 2020, I began offering Zoom storytime every weekday. In August 2021, I shifted to twice a week. Now that live storytelling work is picking up, I’m stopping the regular sessions and will do random pop-up storytimes on Zoom, with a week or so of notice.

I have loved these regular storytimes. At first I wasn’t sure it would work. How would I connect with the listeners? Would it flop immediately? Who would come? Was my equipment up to it?

Listeners have tuned in from Vermont, Argentina, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, California, New York, Israel, and Bulgaria, among other places. Some kids came once. Some came for a few months when they needed to feel connected to something outside of home. Some became my die-hard listeners. A few story-loving grownups attended.

I’ve watched kids become friends with each other, eat snacks, race around in the background, draw, paint, and listen. I’ve seen their loose teeth, costumes, favorite stuffies, and special toys. I’ve seen them laugh and laugh and laugh. I’ve watched them turn into avid story listeners. Parents have let me know that their kids retell my stories, tell their own, sing storytime songs, use funny voices and animate their stuffed animals like my puppets.

Often, after storytime, I sit at my desk and just laugh.

My own repertoire has grown immensely because of storytime and my Patreon bedtime story subscription.

The listeners have become my friends. I am deeply grateful for this time we have had together. Tomorrow is the last of the regular sessions and I am grieving.

BUT…it’s not over! One of my regulars, age 10, has decided he wants to take over the 4:30 time slot on Mondays and Wednesdays for his own storytime! If you’re interested in this, contact me and I’ll put you in touch.

The first of my pop-up Zoom storytimes will be on Sunday, October 9 at 4:30 p.m. CST (same as Chicago). Keep your eye on my website calendar for more!

Empathy and storytelling

This was on the wall at a school I visited just before the pandemic shut everything down in 2020.

I was listening to George Lakoff’s podcast Framelabs, when I heard him say, “Empathy is the heart of democracy.” His podcast partner asked how we bring more empathy into our world. Lakoff said, “We have to do it from a societal level.” My first thought was, “Hmmph. That’s no answer at all.”

My next thought was, “Oh…wait, that IS my job. We have to start with the children.” More and more, I feel compelled to tell stories that promote kindness, compassion and courage.

I was going to write here about the science of empathy, how stories act on the brain, all the stuff about cortisol and oxytocin, what researchers have discovered, etc.. All useful to google and read about, but I’d rather tell you why telling stories to build empathy seems of paramount importance to me right now.

I want to live in a world where people care about each other, where we look out for those who need help, where we don’t say, “well, those people should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” I want children to understand that helping others—and helping the earth—is not weakness but strength. I want my presence, my stories, and yes, my puppets, to say to children, “You matter. I see you. I care. We are in this together.”

So I tell a story about a kind mole who helps a lost sparrow. We sing “I love the mountains”. I tell a story about a girl who invites everybody to her birthday party.and another about a horse who goes looking for another horse to be his friend. I model kindness when my rainbow sloth puppet Hairy is scared to meet the children. I also build in places in stories where we all take a deep breath. We sing “Poor little bug on the wall” to let all our emotions out, including those that are deemed unacceptable. Sometimes I tell funny stories, so we can all laugh together. We stretch our emotional muscles.

Not every story or song I do is about kindness, but many are. I hope they stick.

Does this resonate with you? What are some of your favorite stories or songs that build empathy?

Telling folktales

“Once upon a time…” Those magic words take us out of this time into no-time, when animals might talk, when fish might grant wishes, when an old crone might help us on the side of the road, and when, at the end, we might, just might, live happily ever after.

I’m preparing to give a workshop on telling folktales, followed by a performance of little-known stories, for Northlands Storytelling Network on March 18, so this question has been on my mind:

Why do I love folktales?

Is it because I’ve always been a daydreamer, and these stories feel like daydreams? When I tell them, I am inviting the listeners into the world in my head. Hmm. That’s not quite it, because I feel that way with every story I tell, be it a folktale, a literary story or a personal tale (factual or not).

Is it because folktales give us a way to sidle up next to Big Ideas, so that we can think about them without being overwhelmed? Maybe. When I tell the Grimm tale Maid Maleen, I remember a time in my life when I felt trapped, though I really wasn’t, just as Maid Maleen and her servant were locked in a windowless tower for seven years, not realizing they could have gotten out.

Is it because folktales are, in the words of the inimitable storyteller Beth Horner, “Personal narratives of an entire culture”? Could be. And yet, while some folktales give us a window on specific cultures, some are so general they could be anywhere.

Is it because I can look for different versions of a given folktale and create my own, without fear of infringing copyright? That’s a piece of it.

Is it mere familiarity, since I grew up reading Grimm and Andersen and the Andrew Lang collections, and they are deep in my heart and in my soul? Possibly.

How about you? Do you love folktales? If so, why? If not, why not?

A few songs for storytime

If you’ve ever attended my storytimes for kids, you know that I mix in songs, stretches and puppet hilarity between the stories. During the pandemic, I’ve added a few fun ones to my repertoire. Here are some of the most-requested, thanks to other children’s performers.

Sef told me he learned this song from some women from the Caribbean.

I prefer the video from KidsMusicShop1, but the link only worked on YouTube. One thing I’ve learned about singing with kids is that you can sing simply, and it’s even fine if the tune shifts—that’s the folkloric process! Kids will rarely criticize your singing.

I found this next one through the Lullabies, Tickles and Fingerplays for Early Childhood group on Facebook. It became a fast favorite. I especially like how they explain the best way to spit out all the seeds at the end. We don’t want actual spitting at storytime!

I learned this next song from my sister-in-law years ago, but her tune is slightly different. I sing it with high melodrama. On Zoom calls, I prompt the audience to sing the “meow, meow, meow” by pointing at them.

I just got a new cat puppet and named him Don Gato. I also just got a real cat (really still a kitten). His name is Pippin.

What are your favorite songs to sing with kids?

A year of bedtime stories

A little over a year ago, I launched my bedtime story subscription on Patreon. What a year that has been! The bedtime stories have been one of my pandemic anchors. I promised a new story every week, with a gentle chat at the end to help listeners fall asleep. The stories are audio only, so no light from screens to disturb valuable rest (my own new practice is to turn off all screens at least half an hour before I go to bed).

I started with a bank of ten stories, in case one per week wasn’t quite enough. After that, I began adding. I’ve posted 67 so far, mostly folktales from around the world. In the beginning, I dipped into my old favorites. Then I honored some requests. Then I needed to find new stories. This project has been a great way to expand my repertoire.

Here’s a Bulgarian story that’s in the subscriber-only library, to give you an idea of both the story and the soothing talk at the end:

These stories aren’t just for bedtime! Kids (and adults) can listen any time. Subscribers get access to all of the stories, all the time. If one story resonates more than the others, listen to it twenty times in a row! Maybe that would be good with headphones for the sanity of everyone else.

The subscription starts at $5 USD per month, up to $15. The benefits are the same, no matter how much you pay—I wanted you to be able to decide what it’s worth to you. I’ve had folks subscribe for their kids, or for grandchildren (just give them the password), or for themselves—you don’t have to be a kid to listen.

Here’s what Lindsey had to say about the bedtime stories subscription.

Questions? Comments?

Around the world and back on Zoom

My Zoom workspace

A year ago, in the waves of pandemic panic, I also felt curious. I’d been half-heartedly playing with online storytelling. “What if COVID-19 is my virtual storytelling bootcamp?” I wondered. On March 16, 2020, I began offering Zoom storytimes every weekday. Now a year later, I’m still doing it.

From my laptop in Lawrence, Kansas, I’ve reached listeners and workshop participants in Belgium, Bulgaria, Greece, Israel, India, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Argentina, Peru, Chile, Colombia, all over the US, and probably other places.

Here are a few of the questions I get asked about doing this:

Don’t you miss live performance? Yes, I do, but there is still connection with the listeners online, and sometimes an even more intimate feel to the performances.

Does it work? Surprisingly well. I was worried that it would be passive, too much like TV, but I’ve found ways to engage even young listeners. I speak directly to them, and ask them to join in on songs, chants, hand motions and other silliness, just as I do in live performance.

Don’t kids interrupt? No. Early on I learned to put everybody on mute without the possibility of unmuting unless I let them. This cuts down on the frantic arm waving followed by “My…my…my grandmother…has a cat.” In my every-weekday storytimes, kids get on at 1:45 for the 2 p.m. (CST) show. They can talk as much as they want then, and at 2 p.m. I say, “What time is it?” They say, “Mute time!”

Isn’t it distracting when kids are doing other things? I’m used to it. During Zoom sessions, I’ve had kids eating, jumping on trampolines, reading books, playing, drawing, painting, wrestling, picking their noses and more. They’re also listening. I know this, because they join in when I ask them to. Also, they come back. I have the same children every day, one of whom (hi, Gianna!) has missed only one day since she began last March.

Can you make a living at this? So far, I’m fine. Some of the storytime listeners tip me. Though I make a little plea for tips at the end of storytime, I don’t expect them—and I’m always appreciative. Schools, libraries, festivals and other organizations hire me (and they don’t have to pay mileage or lodging). I set up workshops and performances on Eventbrite, such as the Russian tales for grownups I did in February and the story games workshop I’ll be offering again in March and April. I set these up so folks in various time zones can attend. I’m also doing a once-monthly storytime for kids in distant-from-me-timezones.

The pandemic also pushed me to start a subscription service to bedtime stories for kids. For as little as $5/month, listeners have access to more than 50 audio stories (no screens at night, please) with a gentle talk-down at the end. I upload a new story every week.

Do you prerecord stories? No. While I know many storytellers do, I don’t plan to offer this at this point. On my website and YouTube channel, I do have lots of stories available to listen to and watch..

When the pandemic is over, will you keep doing online storytelling? Yes. As a self-supporting artist, I know the value of having many ways to make my living. This past year has reminded me to stay nimble, stay lively. I might taper off the every-weekday storytelling at some point. For now, I’ll keep going. Feel free to stop by the weekday storytimes. It’s not just for kids.

I also appreciate referrals, so if you know of a school or library or other organization that would like to have a storyteller on Zoom, I’d love it if you pass my name along.

Let me know if you have other questions!

Story games, songs, stretches and silliness

So there you are, with five minutes to spend and a few (or a lot) of antsy kids to spend them with. What do you do? Try a game, a song, a stretch or some kind of silliness. I’ve been collecting these gems for longer than I have been a storyteller.

One story game is the circular story A dark and stormy night. Here’s the version I grew up with:

It was a dark and stormy night.

A band of robbers was sitting around the campfire.

At length, one got up and said, “Chief, tell us a story.”

Chief got up, lit his pipe, and began,

“It was a dark and stormy night…”

We would tell this story in every way we could think of: angry, silly, like a baby, like a cow, like a chicken, in a French accent, like a chicken with a French accent, and so forth. Eventually all the grownups would leave the room. We still do it; now the in-laws leave.

Another game we played was called “Mailbag”. One person would start a story, and after a few sentences (or sometimes, maddeningly, much more), he or she would say, “mailbag!” as the cue for the next person to take over. The cue word could be anything—in the way of children, we never questioned why that was the one we used. Now sometimes I teach an expanded version of the game I call “Magic Box”, which includes trinkets as prompts.

Magic Box is a fun pass-around story game, with endless variations

I’m still adding to my repertoire of these fillers, some of which teach story structure along the way. I search scout websites, old books of children’s songs, and friends’ memories. I’ve just added the melodramatic song Señor Don Gato to my weekday storytimes, to good effect.

I also love teaching story games, songs and stretches. I’ve set up a couple of Zoom workshops in December, if you’d like to learn some of my favorites. Feel free to bring some to share, too!

Silly and soothing bedtime stories by subscription

Some kids go at full speed until, clonk, they keel over into sleep. Others take forever to fall into dreamland. That was me as a child. “Mom….I can’t sleep,” I’d call, four or five or six times. Sure, it might have been that I wanted to be downstairs with the older kids, not exiled to the dark bedroom, but it might have been that sleep just didn’t come easily to me. I was that kid with the dark circles under her eyes.

In thinking about that and about the stories I tell, I decided to offer silly and soothing bedtime stories on Patreon for kids from age 3 and up. As an example, here’s the post I made with The Gunniwolf, one of my favorite quieting-down stories.

Patreon is a platform mostly used for artists’ fans to support them financially, and for artists to offer a peek into their lives and other good stuff, the way my friend Laura Packer does. I’m using it more as a subscription (though of course I appreciate your support). You decide if you want to pay $5, $10 or $15 per month—every tier gets the same thing, bedtime stories, with a new story uploaded every Friday. I’m only offering audio, as I feel that none of us need more screens to watch before bed. I have already posted nine stories, two free for the public and the others available only to patrons.

Good night. Sleep well!

Become a Patron!

What I did this summer

It has been a nicely busy summer, with lots of performances in libraries, parks, my backyard, and other venues. In late July I went out to Fremont, CA for the National Storytelling Summit. I gave a workshop (Storytelling, Storywriting), was on a panel for the Youth, Educators and Storytellers Special Interest Group, and was voted in as co-chair of that group at our annual meeting.

And oh, yes, I received the International Storybridge Oracle Award. I am so very thankful to be honored by my peers. Huge thanks to Joyce Slater for nominating me. Here’s the video of the presentation and my acceptance.

I’m pleased to say that my acceptance was the shortest one of the evening.

When I got home, I remembered to write a press release for the Lawrence Journal World. The reporter, Kathy Hanks, came over and did an interview with me, which made the front page of last Saturday’s paper, above the fold.

Stories everywhere: "I got bit once"

I love that there are stories everywhere. Some good, so bad, some just plain weird. Some stories need coaxing out of hiding. Others leap into our ears unbidden.

Yesterday a friend and I went to the Goodwill Outlet*. We’d never been there, but had heard about this place. The goods—I use that term loosely—are sold by weight and are all higgledy-piggledy in big blue rolling carts.

Periodically, an announcement is made over the loudspeaker about new carts coming out. The customers stand reverently, silently, waiting for the carts to be rolled into place. They may not approach until the signal is given. Then they can rush the bins and start digging. It was fascinating.

Customers waiting for the signal to dig in

As we poked our way through the clothes, furniture, games, shoes and more, we felt like tourists. Janelle mentioned to a woman digging into the clothes that this was our first time at the outlet. She stopped her methodical search to shake her head and say, “I pity you.” She didn’t elaborate, but I think it was because we’d missed this experience for so much of our lives.

After a little more conversation, the woman said. “I got bit once.” Bit? I immediately wondered if it was a flea or a rat.

Janelle asked, “What bit you?”

“A person.”

A person? A person! We immediately needed to hear the story. Our protagonist had found some shoes in a bin. The other woman wanted them and so used her choppers. Our acquaintance then said to the biter, “You don’t want to go there with me” In a menacing tone. She bought the shoes. We later realized we’d been so fascinated by this spontaneous storytelling that we hadn’t asked where she had been bitten. We also guessed that she would have kept the shoes even if they didn’t fit, after the indignity of being bitten.

We left the store with a few pounds of thrift store dregs** and a story. Guess which will last longer?

*While I do shop occasionally at Goodwill, I don’t think it’s a great business. They get stuff for free, and the CEO has a gigantic salary. Still, it keeps things out of the landfill and allows me to buy clothes and other things at prices I can afford. Modern dilemmas.

** I got a TV antenna. It doesn’t work as well as the one I already had, so it will go into my next yard sale. It cost $1.82.

Grimm for Grownups for Humanities Kansas

Last year I joined the Humanities Kansas Speakers Bureau, offering my program Grimm for grownups. It’s a different kind of program for me, involving more lecture and discussion, and as the title implies, it’s not for young kids. The organization subsidizes the performances so that far-flung communities will have access to interesting programs. Here’s what they say about what they do:

We believe that stories carry our culture and ideas change the world

Since our founding as an independent nonprofit in 1972, Humanities Kansas has pioneered programming, grants and partnerships that share stories to spark conversations — drawing people together and generating new ideas. These stories and ideas inspire each of us in Kansas to play a part in strengthening our communities and our democracy.

My program feels like a good fit. So far, I’ve enjoyed working with Humanities Kansas. Earlier this year I did the show in Goodland and Oakley, Kansas, for two very different audiences.

The backdrop to my storytelling at the Goodland Public LIbrary. In Lawrence I live a half block from the train tracks, so I felt right at home.

In Goodland, I had an evening performance for about twelve women. I told a mixture of Grimm tales, from the truly gruesome Juniper tree to the story Cat and mouse, which I also tell to children (though it has a bad end for the mouse), along with other tales. I talked about the Grimms themselves and why they collected stories, how they edited them, what was happening in the world at the time, and more. Discussion was lively, veering off into the art of storytelling in general. It was great fun!

In Oakley, the performance was in the afternoon. Along with the crowd of older folks, there was a group of high school students, mostly boys. These kids came a little early, so I told an extra story. It’s vitally important to engage kids immediately, or they’ll check out. Hmm, that goes for everybody, but adults are better at hiding boredom. At any rate, I told them a gruesome English folktale, Mr. Fox, a version of Bluebeard. During the program itself, I told a Grimm version of the same story, The fitcher’s bird, as well as the stories I told in Goodland.

As in Goodland, the Oakley audience listened intently. They had lots of comments and questions about the lecture material. Our discussion ranged widely, and included two of the students telling short scary stories. When we talked about storytelling, I mentioned The ghost with the one black eye, the story for children I’m best known for. One of the adults called out, “Tell it!” After checking with the teachers that I could keep the kids past the hour, I did. A student raised his hand and said, “My mom used to play us a cassette with that story.” He recognized my voice., too. I put that cassette out in 1996!

After the performance, the librarian served gingerbread and apple slices, shades of Hansel and Gretel, Snow White and The Juniper Tree! The whole experience was excellent.

I’m looking forward to presenting Grimm for growunups later this year in Coffeyville, Wichita and Dodge City, and I hope elsewhere. For more info on booking this program, check out the Humanities Kansas Speakers Bureau.

"What are the differences between writing and oral storytelling?"

This was a question a participant in a storytelling workshop asked the other night. My answer then was nowhere near complete, just as what I write here also will miss some salient points. Here's what occurs to me now:

Oral storytelling 

• Is an older artform than written.
• Does not require that the listener be literate.
• Requires teller and listener to be in the same place (hmm, unless it's on a recording, which places it closer to written).
• Is not in set form. The storyteller may change the story depending on the audience, circumstances, time allotted, mood of the audience, mood of the storyteller, venue. 
• May be more concise--too much detail can bog the experience down.
• The storytelling/story listening experience is usually shorter. Of course there are exceptions for cultures in which epics may last over days, or with serial stories.
• Depends on nonverbal as well as verbal communication--facial expression and body language, volume, pacing, attitude, etc.
• May use repetition and mnemonics to help the audience remember people, places and action.

Written storytelling

• Requires literacy. Even with a read-aloud, somebody is reading it. 
• Is usually experienced by the reader without the writer being present. The writer is unaware of the reaction of the reader.
• Is in set form in each edition (with some exceptions for online experiences).
• Requires the writer to show attitude, emotion, etc. using words.
• Have a wider range of length, from flash fiction to multivolume sagas. 
• The reader may flip the pages back to remind herself of something that happened earlier. 

Of course, a good story is a good story. One artform is not better than the other. Oral storytelling can enhance writing and writing can enhance oral storytelling--I often write about the stories I tell, in order to understand them.

What did I miss? 

Storytelling live-ish

Imagine this: students in five schools in different parts of the world listening to one storyteller (me) in their own classrooms, and asking the storyteller questions via chat. I'm in my studio (otherwise known as my dining room). The stories are tailored to the audience. The schools pay a fraction of the price of a regular storytelling performance, with none of the travel fees. They can use smartboards, projectors or individual screens. The teacher clicks a link and they're in the session. 

Over the last ten months, I've been testing live online storytelling events using the Zoom platform. From the comfort of home, I tell stories to listeners wherever in the world they are. Here's my setup:

The first try was a short puppet workshop for a group of teachers in Brazil. The next was a presentation for a middle school in Texas, with a goal of bringing kids into an existing storytelling troupe. Then I told stories to two homeschooling families (full disclosure, they were already fans). Today I had two middle schools, one in Florida and one in Tennessee. The school in Tennessee had me in multiple classrooms at once. (Thanks to Mariana, Sue, Melanie, Kelly, Tom, Elizabeth and all the other teachers for being my testers.)

Here are a few things I've learned in the guinea pig sessions

• Make sure the cat is outside before beginning. He is charming, but a distraction.
• Mute the audience during the stories, or there will be a lot of extraneous noise (chairs scraping, the intercom, etc.)
• Use a wired connection, not wireless, for the strongest possible signal.
• Put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door.
• Don't use a lot of fast hand gestures. Movement on a screen can get blurred. 
• Dim the brightness of the laptop screen for less glare on eyeglasses.
• Plan for extra time for questions, since it requires using the chat window.

I still prefer telling stories in person, but this is a great way to get more stories and workshops out into the world.

I'm ready to go live, er, live-ish. Soon look for pricing on my website for full performances, workshops and "story snacks" (5-10 minute mini sessions).

Have questions? E-mail me or put a comment below. 

Staying healthy on the road

I love performance tours. I am deeply thankful to do this work and for the privilege of traveling to do it (thanks, DreamOn Productions!). I'm writing from Costa Rica, where I'm telling stories for a week. Last week I was performing in Ecuador. (I promise to post pictures soon.)

Alas, I have a headcold. I work hard to stay healthy, especially on international tours, but sometimes I succumb to germs. 

A couple of weeks before I leave for an overseas trip, I start taking echinacea and goldenseal, to boost my immune system. I also take Vitamin D. I pack these, along with multivitamins, ibuprofen, Pepto-Bismol, anti-diarrheal pills, night-time and day-time cold medicine, sinus rinse packs and my neti pot, bandaids, antibiotic ointment, tweezers, Tiger balm and zinc lozenges. 

On top of this pharmacopeia, I drink lots of water. Lots of water. This is the best way to keep my voice in shape, along with vocal warm-up exercises before performances. If I feel throat irritation, I buy lozenges at local pharmacies and health food stores. I'm partial to those made with propolis and honey. I also buy ginger, lemon and honey, which I simmer to make a soothing drink. It's good hot or cold. I find out if the country I'm going to has safe water. If not, I drink bottled or boiled water only. Yes, I have Pepto-bismol, but if I'm careful, I may not need it. 

I try to wash my hands frequently. I tend to forget hand sanitizer, maybe because I don't like the way it feels. Maybe if I'd used it, I wouldn't have gotten this particular cold. Then again, it wouldn't have stopped the person sneezing and coughing on me on the airplane on the way to Costa Rica.

At the first sign of a cold, I take zinc lozenges. Sometimes they can keep a cold at bay. Or at least that's what I tell myself. Warning: don't take them on an empty stomach. They can make you feel nauseous. I do that revolting sinus rinse a couple of times a day so a simple cold doesn't turn into a sinus infection. I've been lucky not to lose my voice on these tours--the only thing you can do in that case is not talk. Yikes!

After a day of work, usually four performances, I take a nap. I like to get a walk in at some point. I also go to bed early--it's important to save my energy for the school sessions. 

Oh, yes, and that's sunscreen in the picture. In Ecuador especially the sun is strong. Sunscreen is essential. Wear it.

Organizing my storytelling library

Confession time: my storytelling library was a blot on the escutcheon of librarians everywhere for the last year and a half. My books were not in any order. The house needed so much work, I just plunked my work books on shelves willy-nilly. This is what about half of them looked like:

Oh, they looked nice. Those homemade bookshelves garnered attention when I posted this picture on Facebook. But, sheesh, when I needed to find a particular book, I spent way too much time searching. Can you see that there's a collection of cat stories right next to a big book of world tales? Sacred Stories is right next to a collection of Scottish folktales, which is next to French stories. 

I know better. My first professional job was as a Slavic cataloger. It's important to have a system, in order to find materials easily. 

Last week, I organized my books. Not exactly Dewey Decimal, but close.

Here's the order I use:

• General reference
• Books on creativity, including writing books
• Reference books relating to folklore and storytelling
• How-to books on storytelling
• Collections of world folktales
• Story collections by topic (e.g. folktales of cats)
• Story collections by geographic area (e.g. folktales from France)
• Literary (that is, not folktale) collections by author

It's not exact. Some areas are a little slushy. Eagle-eyed readers will see that stories from Shakespeare are tucked into the English folktale collections--that's mostly because the literary tales are on a shelf that's harder to reach, and because I have a program of folktales related to Shakespeare's plays. No, I don't have a card catalog (though I was lusting after a small one at Habitat Restore last week). Still, it's a great improvement. 

I think I'll go browse my collection for a bit.

Stories of my mother

I know it's a cliche but it's true: people live on through the stories we tell about them. I'm writing this two days before my mother's funeral.

My mother, Carol Edgelow Howe, grew up in Springfield, Massachusetts. She and her three sisters often visited their grandparents in Westmount, Quebec. One Christmas, when she was about three, she was put to bed while her parents and grandparents ate supper. Little Carol was certain that Santa Claus was down the street by the corner.  She got out of bed and left the house alone on that snowy night. The family dog, a Newfoundland named Caesar, followed, then got in front of her. He pushed her back up the steps of the house. She was furious with him! How dare he keep her from Santa Claus!

Maybe that visit? Mom was headstrong, even at that age.

Mom had a powerful imagination, a lively mind and a wicked sense of humor. She graduated from Wellesley College in 1945, though the story is that the Dean had to call her father to discuss my mother's errant ways--reading novels rather than her assignments and dating boys. She was a looker!

I suspect she was a big daydreamer. In her later years, after my father died, we discovered that it was also Mom who was the dawdler. When I was in school, she was insistent that we not be late. I found some of her grammar school report cards and discovered that in fourth grade, she was late dozens of times!

After working at a florist shop and a nursery, as well as a lifetime of gardening and raising houseplants (her Cattleya orchids were always in bloom), Mom wrote garden columns for newspapers for forty years. Her last column was in September 2016 at age 93. Whenever I asked her for gardening advice, she always gave the same answer: "Why don't you call your Extension Agent?"

Mom was deeply invested in her church, St. Columba's in Boothbay Harbor, Maine and involved in the church's mission in Belém, Brazil. Not surprising, as my father was an Episcopal priest.

My parents, early in their marriage.

Mom was concerned with issues of hunger and poverty. When she went to church, she always brought at least one can of food for the pantry. In her gardening articles, she suggested people "plant a row for the hungry," an initiative of the Garden Writers of America. Mom loved to spend time outdoors, to sing, to read--she belonged to two book clubs in Maine, where she spent the last thirty years of her life, until last October when we moved her to Kansas to be near three of her seven children.

Mom in 2016

All seven of her children in one place for the first time in ten years, 2017

We moved Mom to Lawrence, Kansas because none of us was close enough to Maine to help in an emergency. This proved to be prescient. In late February, she had a stroke. She'd been in assisted living, but moved into long-term care with hospice. All of her children were able to come to Kansas to say goodbye. We had the luxury of nine weeks with her after her stroke. My in-town siblings, Mary and Thomas, their spouses, and I spent time with her every day. She loved visits from my siblings' dogs, too.

The stroke took a bit of her short-term memory and her ability to process writing, but Mom did not have dementia. She was aware and coherent for the few hours each day she was awake. She loved hearing e-mails and cards from family and friends. We read to her, brought her flowers from our gardens, fed her and advocated for her. We even had cocktail hour with her a few times. After the first one she told the nurse that she'd had almost a whole beer. Well, actually, she had three small sips and a couple of goldfish crackers.

In March, I wrote a blog post about storytelling as a respite. Now you know why. 

Mom died with a slight smile on her lips on Sunday, April 30, 2017 at 11:50 a.m. My sister Mary and I were at her side. 

RIP Carol Edgelow Howe, 1923-2017. 

If you feel so inclined, plant a row for the hungry or take some nonperishables to your local food pantry in her honor.

Making a living as a storyteller...

...is not easy. I think it was Elizabeth Ellis who said, "If anything can keep you from being a full-time storyteller, let it." If nothing can keep you from this work, then and only then, should you take it on as a full-time job. So that's where I am, where I've been since 1993, wanting only to tell stories, play with puppets, teach workshops, coach other storytellers. 

Teaching teachers to use puppets in 2008

I love storytelling. It's massively fun. It is also my business, make no mistake. I market my work, write contracts and invoices, track income and expenses, record mileage, file taxes (done, whew!) and all the rest of what it takes to keep a business going. 

Sometimes I need help. I'm fortunate to have been a participant last year and now a peer facilitator in ArtistInc, a rigorous program that trains artists and performers to be entrepreneurs. I've taken other classes like this in the past, such as Sean Buvala's Storytelling Bootcamp, but this is right here in my town. We meet for eight weeks to work on our arts businesses, and in the process, create a core group of artists in many disciplines with whom to work. We've maintained many of the friendships we made in last year's group.

ArtistInc bag and notebook. Sorry about the cat hair--it's a fact of my life, alas.

In ArtistInc, we set goals and rely on each other for accountability. We've had sessions on budgets, taxes, writing about our work, legal issues and more. Our homework assignments are practical. This week, we're reviewing artist statements. Here's my latest artist statement:

I live in my head. A lot. I make stuff up, I borrow from old tales, I reinterpret new stories. As a storyteller, I’m a tour guide to that space in my brain. I work without a script, without costumes, without props. When I’m doing it right, listeners laugh, smile, sigh and breathe together, connected in the space of stories. I perform at schools, libraries, festivals, special events, and in my own backyard, literally. My mouthy hand puppets come along to shows for kids. I tell more grownup stories to, well, grownups and older kids. We play together. Apart from being the oldest educational method in the world, storytelling is just plain fun.

The final session is a Pecha Kucha style Powerpoint presentation, using a set of slides that advance automatically every 20 seconds. My work is usually live, so last year was the first time I ever used Powerpoint. I'm redoing my presentation for this year. When I get it finished, I'll post it here. 

Soon I'm going to roll out a new business project, one that ArtistInc has helped me refine. Watch this space!

Storytelling as a respite

Storytelling is my profession, my passion, my vocation. It is also my respite from cares of the world. 

You may have heard about "the healing power of storytelling." By this, people usually mean that the listeners are healed. I know that stories can be healing but--and this is vital to understand--I am not in charge of this. I can choose stories with powerful themes to tell at times when they may be needed, but it would be sheer hubris to say that I heal others with my stories.

At the same time, telling stories is a way I find solace in times of sorrow. Sometimes it is the story itself that helps me, sometimes just the act of telling stories; sometimes it is eliciting laughter or contemplation in the listeners that brings me to an easier place.

When I'm feeling low during slow seasons, I invite myself to a preschool or two to tell stories. It works like a charm.

When my father died ten years ago, I was performing in Belgium. At the moment he died, I was telling one of his favorite stories, "The Twist-Mouth Family". I often tell that story in his memory now. 

What stories have you told that offer respite? What stories have you heard that bring you solace?

Community

My friend Kareen King prompted me to choose a theme for the year, a word to focus on. Almost immediately, it came to me: "community." In truth, I've been thinking about this word for a little over a year, since I moved back from KC to Lawrence. I moved back mostly because I missed my community. I live on the same street I moved from in 2010, just a half block east. I'm close enough to downtown that I can walk and often when I do, I run into friends. 

How can my storytelling add to this community? One way is through the Story Nights I do in the backyard. I had five last summer and will do more this next year.  

My cat Frankie even attended!

I'm also thinking about how the stories we tell can build up or tear down a community. I want to tell the stories that build up community. Sometimes that's through shared laughter, sometimes it's through specific ideas the listeners get from the stories. Last week I told Grandmother Bear and the Hurtful Words to a group of 2nd graders. We talked about what one might say after using hurtful words. I explained that "just kidding" isn't kind. One little girl raised her hand and said, "But what if you were really just kidding." That gave me pause. I suggested that it might not be a good way to kid, because it could truly hurt somebody's feelings. Sometimes the stories we tell can encourage kindness in a world that doesn't always feel kind.

I'm going to veer off topic from storytelling but still on the topic of community. I've been the recipient of great kindness from friends and family, that is, from my community, in working on my house. Some has been moral support, some financial, much has been actual hands-on-let's-make-this-place-livable work. I'm deeply grateful. Here are a few pictures of the results: 

The freshly plastered yellow wall, freshly painted trim and green wall of my office, thanks to Kate, Tim, Samrat, Mary, Andy, Marie, Paul and Janelle.

The freshly plastered dining room, thanks to Thomas, Kate, Tony and his guys, Sarah, Mark, Tim. 

The painted living room, thanks to Kate, Paul and Anthea.

The bedroom, with help from Kate and Deborah.

The puppet room (they're just out of sight)--oh, I did this room myself.

And most recently, the bright and clean kitchen, thanks to Kate, Thomas, Paul, Marie, Robin, Susan, Bonnie, Aaron, Jamie, Diane and Tim.

I had immeasurable help also from Mary, Rick, Mary W., Andy, Jeanette, Mike, Bob, Kareen, Tzveta, Marie G., Joanna-banana, Dave, Steve, Tom O., Sarah, Joyce and all of you who listened to me drone on and on about the house. I hope I haven't left anyone out.* Thank you all. You matter. WE matter. Community matters. 

*I also had professional help from Earl Moise of Rising Son Plumbing, Jeff Hardie of Electric Plus, Andy Martin of Martin Hardwood Floors and Tony Backus. They all did a great job!