About Me
- saundra
- Born in Tallahassee, the capital of Florida, I am a genuine Florida Cracker--a descendent of sturdy women and men who farmed their way south from North Carolina in the early 1800's. I am a graduate of Florida State University with a BS in Social Science, and earned an MA in Education/Storytelling from East Tennessee State University. My work is deeply influenced by a love and reverence for the natural world and environmental issues and my love of story. Performance Photos by Valerie Menard, Silentlightimages.com.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Addendum - Veteran's Day
Never forget the bravery of the men and women who fight for us every day, and those who fought in wars past. Salute!
I'm back!
Okay, so I'm back and this time, it's for good. When I signed the contract to find, interview and edit the life journey stories of sixteen storytellers for my book, Southern Appalacian Storytellers: Interviews with Sixteen Keepers of the Oral Tradition, it seemed as though my life was consumed by them in the two and a half years it took to accomplish the task. Oh, the joy of it! And when it was done, the experience was nearly one of grief when it went into the mail.
The day my copies arrived I was totally unprepared for them. McFarland, my publisher, gave me no warning at all. There was simply a tag note on the door telling me I had a package under the chair. That's all. I retrieved the small box that was surprisingly heavy, trying to think what I had ordered, and took it inside. The phone rang, I answered and while I spoke casually put my glasses on my nose. That's when I saw where the package was from - Jefferson, NC. My heart froze, not beating at all for a moment, then I tore into the box to find the lovely proof of the work we put into it, and I say 'we' because each storyteller reviewed their own words after my editing, and then signed off once they were satisfied with the work.
On another note: for those of you living in the Johnson City, TN area, the folks at the Downtown Day Center on Fairview are in grave need of clean, warm blankets, jackets, hats, gloves - anything to keep them toasty for the upcoming winter.
Don't forget to share with those in need for the holidays and all year round.
Saundra
The day my copies arrived I was totally unprepared for them. McFarland, my publisher, gave me no warning at all. There was simply a tag note on the door telling me I had a package under the chair. That's all. I retrieved the small box that was surprisingly heavy, trying to think what I had ordered, and took it inside. The phone rang, I answered and while I spoke casually put my glasses on my nose. That's when I saw where the package was from - Jefferson, NC. My heart froze, not beating at all for a moment, then I tore into the box to find the lovely proof of the work we put into it, and I say 'we' because each storyteller reviewed their own words after my editing, and then signed off once they were satisfied with the work.
On another note: for those of you living in the Johnson City, TN area, the folks at the Downtown Day Center on Fairview are in grave need of clean, warm blankets, jackets, hats, gloves - anything to keep them toasty for the upcoming winter.
Don't forget to share with those in need for the holidays and all year round.
Saundra
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Storytelling in Appalachia
Oh, dear goodness - it has been a very long time since I wrote in this blog and I must apologize for it. Now that I've done that, I will make a promise to be more diligent with this communications tool.
For the past year and a half, I have collected interviews with Appalachian storytellers for my book, Riding the Clouds. When it went under contract with McFarland Publishers with a deadline of December 15, 2009, I found myself completely engaged in seeking and conducting interviews with some of the most fascinating people I have ever known. The book title changed when I signed the contract: it is now Storytelling in Contemporary Appalachia/stoking the fire.
The most recent interview was with Gary Neal Cardin, a native of Sylva, North Carolina. To say he is colorful would be an understatement; to add that he is also intensely intellectual, perceptive and articulate would also be accurate. The day I interviewed him, I drove into Sylva with only the most vague notion of what I would find, but excited to finally meet him. You can't take your degree at East Tennessee State University's master's in storytelling program without having knowledge of most of Appalachia's storytellers, and I was looking forward to hearing about his life's work in his own words.
Gary Neal's looked much as his website photos depict him - a strong, expressive face, unruly white hair and hands that talk with his voice. His home is a virtual library and it seems he has seen every film ever made and read as many books as time will allow. Carden's dog Jack is a fun Corgi-type mix who is his shadow.
In a week or so I will drive to Boone to meet again with storyteller Charlotte Ross who was born in the North Georgia Mountains just as old days of Appalachia ended. She is a descendent of Nancy Ward and her stories about it are intriguing. I taped her first interview three years ago and need to fill in the gaps. Charlotte is an oral teller - everything is in her head and her stories speak of a long, rich personal history with story.
In October I will travel to Memphis to interview Appalachian/Cherokee Marilou Awiakta Thompson. She was born in Tennessee and grew up in Oakridge, so her stories speak of the atom, science and nature. I will tell you more after the visit.
Also in the pipeline are Sheila Kay Adams, Elder Jerry Wolf, Ron Short, Linda Goss, Andreena Belcher and Angelynn DeBord.
Talk to you soon - Saundra
After that, I will interview
For the past year and a half, I have collected interviews with Appalachian storytellers for my book, Riding the Clouds. When it went under contract with McFarland Publishers with a deadline of December 15, 2009, I found myself completely engaged in seeking and conducting interviews with some of the most fascinating people I have ever known. The book title changed when I signed the contract: it is now Storytelling in Contemporary Appalachia/stoking the fire.
The most recent interview was with Gary Neal Cardin, a native of Sylva, North Carolina. To say he is colorful would be an understatement; to add that he is also intensely intellectual, perceptive and articulate would also be accurate. The day I interviewed him, I drove into Sylva with only the most vague notion of what I would find, but excited to finally meet him. You can't take your degree at East Tennessee State University's master's in storytelling program without having knowledge of most of Appalachia's storytellers, and I was looking forward to hearing about his life's work in his own words.
Gary Neal's looked much as his website photos depict him - a strong, expressive face, unruly white hair and hands that talk with his voice. His home is a virtual library and it seems he has seen every film ever made and read as many books as time will allow. Carden's dog Jack is a fun Corgi-type mix who is his shadow.
In a week or so I will drive to Boone to meet again with storyteller Charlotte Ross who was born in the North Georgia Mountains just as old days of Appalachia ended. She is a descendent of Nancy Ward and her stories about it are intriguing. I taped her first interview three years ago and need to fill in the gaps. Charlotte is an oral teller - everything is in her head and her stories speak of a long, rich personal history with story.
In October I will travel to Memphis to interview Appalachian/Cherokee Marilou Awiakta Thompson. She was born in Tennessee and grew up in Oakridge, so her stories speak of the atom, science and nature. I will tell you more after the visit.
Also in the pipeline are Sheila Kay Adams, Elder Jerry Wolf, Ron Short, Linda Goss, Andreena Belcher and Angelynn DeBord.
Talk to you soon - Saundra
After that, I will interview
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Greetings to all.
This has been a super-busy time for storytellers everywhere, and I am honored to have been out there plying the trade with them. Since October I have been on stage several times a week and have had a blast doing it. I told at several Assisted Living communities, went 'on tour,' to Chapel Hill North Carolina, and many, many more. My favorite was an unscheduled opportunity at the Unity Church here in Johnson City. The church has a ministry to those less fortunate, and I just happened to be talking to two of the members who invited me to tell the following night. ETSU storytelling student from North Dakota, Brenda Morman, was in town for her graduation,so we went together. When we walked in, the church was a riot of kids, gingerbread cookies and frosting. They were making holiday gifts, decorating cookies and getting their faces painted. After pizza, I told a new story I wrote this year and found the response in their faces deeply stirring. One especially touching scene was that of an elderly gentleman leaving the building. A child ran up to him and gave him a hug; the look on that man's face was priceless. When he walked into the night alone, I knew his heart was warmer because of the touch of another human being.
My last gig for 2008 was as featured teller for the Jonesborough Storytelling Guild at the Cranberry Thistle in Jonesborough. The news that day was all bad - bad economy, bad news about crooks in high places, bad, bad, bad. Gayleen Kelley was emcee that night and she asked for a favorite word to share with the audience. Mine was comfort. It seemed that I needed it, so I gave it and in return received it from the audience.
I'm going home for Christmas - off to Florida early in the morning. It will be the first time I have gone home since May! That's way too long to be away from my precious grandson and children. I will close now to finish baking cookies to take with me. Merry Christmas.
This has been a super-busy time for storytellers everywhere, and I am honored to have been out there plying the trade with them. Since October I have been on stage several times a week and have had a blast doing it. I told at several Assisted Living communities, went 'on tour,' to Chapel Hill North Carolina, and many, many more. My favorite was an unscheduled opportunity at the Unity Church here in Johnson City. The church has a ministry to those less fortunate, and I just happened to be talking to two of the members who invited me to tell the following night. ETSU storytelling student from North Dakota, Brenda Morman, was in town for her graduation,so we went together. When we walked in, the church was a riot of kids, gingerbread cookies and frosting. They were making holiday gifts, decorating cookies and getting their faces painted. After pizza, I told a new story I wrote this year and found the response in their faces deeply stirring. One especially touching scene was that of an elderly gentleman leaving the building. A child ran up to him and gave him a hug; the look on that man's face was priceless. When he walked into the night alone, I knew his heart was warmer because of the touch of another human being.
My last gig for 2008 was as featured teller for the Jonesborough Storytelling Guild at the Cranberry Thistle in Jonesborough. The news that day was all bad - bad economy, bad news about crooks in high places, bad, bad, bad. Gayleen Kelley was emcee that night and she asked for a favorite word to share with the audience. Mine was comfort. It seemed that I needed it, so I gave it and in return received it from the audience.
I'm going home for Christmas - off to Florida early in the morning. It will be the first time I have gone home since May! That's way too long to be away from my precious grandson and children. I will close now to finish baking cookies to take with me. Merry Christmas.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Hurricanes, drilling for oil and welcomed comments
In response to my daughter's comments about drilling for oil, I must clarify my position somewhat.
I, too,have begun to wonder at our arrogance in using the world's resources, fighting wars for access and dabbling in world politics where we have no business, all to keep our cars running, houses lit at night and entire cities so bright they can be seen from space. Somehow our priorities have gotten distorted and what we want seems to have overcome good sense.
It's my understanding that the processes of drilling for oil is much safer now and not as harmful to the environment, but I also know that an awful lot of oil escaped into the water down on the Gulf during this present hurricane season. While I see the need for tapping into our own resources, we must guard against commercial interests polluting the water to satisfy the mandate of corporations to make profit come hell or high water. wind and solar power win my vote, but nothing is without its faults and everything we do will change our story - the way we view ourselves.
I, too,have begun to wonder at our arrogance in using the world's resources, fighting wars for access and dabbling in world politics where we have no business, all to keep our cars running, houses lit at night and entire cities so bright they can be seen from space. Somehow our priorities have gotten distorted and what we want seems to have overcome good sense.
It's my understanding that the processes of drilling for oil is much safer now and not as harmful to the environment, but I also know that an awful lot of oil escaped into the water down on the Gulf during this present hurricane season. While I see the need for tapping into our own resources, we must guard against commercial interests polluting the water to satisfy the mandate of corporations to make profit come hell or high water. wind and solar power win my vote, but nothing is without its faults and everything we do will change our story - the way we view ourselves.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Hurricanes
First Gustof and now, Hurricane Ike focused on the Gulf Coast, tearing our flimsy structures up and turning them into match sticks with little effort. Is it time to pay attention to what earth mother is telling us? Repair the marshes, disallow building directly on our shores and forget drilling on the coast. The coast, when it is calm and still or even stormy can be heaven; in a hurricane it is living hell and we have no business building in such vulnerable areas.
How do I know this? For a couple of years I lived on a seven-mile long moving sandspit called Alligator Point in North Florida. Living there fulfilled a dream for this Florida-born woman - I had dreamed of long walks on the beaches, late nights at water's edge watching the moon; sunsets and more and finally, my dream came true.
My home was roughly in the middle of the penninsula- a slender finger arced like first moon in the Gulf of Mexico. I had a huge backporch overlooking a canal which led out to Alligator Harbor and on around to the open water. Often I sat on the dock and watched mullet jump and listened tot the wind in the ancient, twisted pines. A great snowy egret visited frequently. somehow that bird knew when I was cooking because I'd feel a presence, turn around and there would be 'Snow,' waiting for his handout. The former owner of the house trained that bird and from what I heard, he used to be welcome in the house and on the backporch. I, however, wanted to return him to the wild and prevent dependence on hands that might not always be kind. I didfeed him when he asked and was thrilled when I saw the yellow surround on his beak turn from bright yellow to mellow turqoise and then I saw his mating plummage. Yes, it was a thrill to live there until the storms brought water up to my dock.
Water rising up to the floor of the dock meant 'clear out of Dodge' and I did it a number of times when I lived there. I never knew what I would find on my return, but the one that turned the tide for me was Hurricane Dennis. That year was stormy anyway and I had ridden out several good storms and enjoyed them all in my isolated post, but Dennis was different. Something in the air felt strange to me and I gathered up what I could and left. I didn't go back for a month - the road past the open Gulf was destroyed and my little car couldn't handle the debris.
When I finally went home it was to mold, loss and destruction but not nearly as much as some experienced: many of the homes simply collapsed and washed away. In my case, the inclosed ground floor had become a swimming pool and everything I owned down there was destroyed including precious journals, books, tools and holiday ornaments. One thing that comes to me frequently is a chandalear a friend gave me - I moved it everywhere I went but it didn't fit in that house on the coast. I wrapped it carefully in heavy plastic and stored it up high and forgot about it. On my return I discovered it had deteriorated in the salty humidity and was covered in green slime - too far gone to recover.
I left many things behind when I moved away from there not long after and the bag with the light fixture was one of them, but it is my Marguirite Henry Horses book that I see when I think of departure from my paradise, its moldy pages flipping in the clean salt air in the pile at the street. Hopefully, someone not sensitive to mold found it, but I couldn't keep it. Now, I live in the mountains, far from my beloved coast, but I dream of it often and can still tune my pulse to the waves when I close my eyes in sleep at night, but I will never live that close to the open coast again.
How do I know this? For a couple of years I lived on a seven-mile long moving sandspit called Alligator Point in North Florida. Living there fulfilled a dream for this Florida-born woman - I had dreamed of long walks on the beaches, late nights at water's edge watching the moon; sunsets and more and finally, my dream came true.
My home was roughly in the middle of the penninsula- a slender finger arced like first moon in the Gulf of Mexico. I had a huge backporch overlooking a canal which led out to Alligator Harbor and on around to the open water. Often I sat on the dock and watched mullet jump and listened tot the wind in the ancient, twisted pines. A great snowy egret visited frequently. somehow that bird knew when I was cooking because I'd feel a presence, turn around and there would be 'Snow,' waiting for his handout. The former owner of the house trained that bird and from what I heard, he used to be welcome in the house and on the backporch. I, however, wanted to return him to the wild and prevent dependence on hands that might not always be kind. I didfeed him when he asked and was thrilled when I saw the yellow surround on his beak turn from bright yellow to mellow turqoise and then I saw his mating plummage. Yes, it was a thrill to live there until the storms brought water up to my dock.
Water rising up to the floor of the dock meant 'clear out of Dodge' and I did it a number of times when I lived there. I never knew what I would find on my return, but the one that turned the tide for me was Hurricane Dennis. That year was stormy anyway and I had ridden out several good storms and enjoyed them all in my isolated post, but Dennis was different. Something in the air felt strange to me and I gathered up what I could and left. I didn't go back for a month - the road past the open Gulf was destroyed and my little car couldn't handle the debris.
When I finally went home it was to mold, loss and destruction but not nearly as much as some experienced: many of the homes simply collapsed and washed away. In my case, the inclosed ground floor had become a swimming pool and everything I owned down there was destroyed including precious journals, books, tools and holiday ornaments. One thing that comes to me frequently is a chandalear a friend gave me - I moved it everywhere I went but it didn't fit in that house on the coast. I wrapped it carefully in heavy plastic and stored it up high and forgot about it. On my return I discovered it had deteriorated in the salty humidity and was covered in green slime - too far gone to recover.
I left many things behind when I moved away from there not long after and the bag with the light fixture was one of them, but it is my Marguirite Henry Horses book that I see when I think of departure from my paradise, its moldy pages flipping in the clean salt air in the pile at the street. Hopefully, someone not sensitive to mold found it, but I couldn't keep it. Now, I live in the mountains, far from my beloved coast, but I dream of it often and can still tune my pulse to the waves when I close my eyes in sleep at night, but I will never live that close to the open coast again.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Fall Schedule
Greetings!
Fall is almost here and I'm eagerly looking for signs of color. Goldenrod was already in first bloom in Gatlinburg's higher elevations last month and now it is in bloom here in the foothills. A flock of geese (or is it gaggle?) flew over twice this past weekend, making me think of home, back in Florida. We had some geese who made the lake at Blairstone Forest inTallahassee their year-round home, and every morning at 7am they flew over my house. How could I not smile at hearing them, even on a Saturday when sleeping in was the plan? That same smile came to my lips when I heard them this time, too.
I gave the meditation and message of inspiration at the Unity Church in Johnson City yesterday, September 7, adapting Thich Naht Hahn's Consider the Leaf from Peace is Every Step. My old friend from Big Bend Hospice, James Brooks, gave me the book when I left my work at the hospice and every now and then I return to it; always, there is something new in the pages and so it was this time. Adapting the meditation to this present place brought us into the space together and I left refreshed and nurtured as I hope those sitting with me did as well. For inspiration, I shared a story that will be on my CD, I Am the Bottle, which is about an artesian well at the bottom of an ancient sinkhole. I went there often as a young person, and even now, as with the geese fly-over, the memory of it takes me back to a secret place of spiritual nourishment and peace.
I continue interviewing Appalachian storytellers for my book, Riding the Clouds and I am also working with a woman to write her life story. I told a personal narrative, the Emerald Forest, September 1 at the Cranberry Thistle in Jonesborough, and September 16th I will MC the Jonesborough Storytelling Guild storytelling event at the Cranberry Thistle as well. Also on the 16th, I will tell stories at Elmscroft Assisted Living Community in Kingsport at 2pm.
Things heat up considerably in October beginning with the pre-festival concert October 1st in Jonesborough; I will MC in the afternoon at the Swapping Grounds Saturday, October 2nd. October 16-17 is the City of Johnson City Pioneer Days sponsored by Parks & Recreation, where I will tell era-appropriate tales in the cabin at Winged Deer Park the 16th (dressed in pioneer garb), and at Sycamore Shoals the 17th as part of the event.
October 18th, I will be in Kingsport, Tennessee for the Kingsport Arts Council's Art for Kidz event, singing and telling the Weaver's ballad that I wrote, using the ballad to teach the children the fine art of weaving stories out of their everyday lives. The Weaver's guild will be there teaching weaving on mini-looms.
Write your Memoir, Tell your Story is the topic of a workshop I will give at the Jonesborough, Tennessee Library October 25th, and I will tell scary stories at the Witch's Wynd at the Exchange Place in Kingsport the evening of October 25th and 26th.
October 31st, this show will be on the road, heading for Chapel Hill, North Carolina, sharing Dot Jackson's ethnographic story. Dot's story inspired Riding the Clouds and how she came to write her award-winning novel, Refuge, is perfect for a literary afternoon on Halloween at McIntyre's Bookstore. November 1st, also in Chapel Hill, I will tell the Havana Chronicles at a house concert, with an opening act presented by storyteller and yoga teacher, Jean McKinney. Jean has been instrumental in putting this tour together (thank you!) and we are still negotiating on a couple of other venues which I will post at a later date.
That's it for now - Happy Storytelling!
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