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.

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.

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!

Storytelling workshop with Jim May - August 28, 2008

Friends,



Tonight I had the opportunity to participate in a workshop with Jim May in Jonesborough. That's one of the benefits to living in this part of East Tennessee - wonderful storytellers come through here all the time, and sometimes we are blessed with opportunities like the one I just had tonight.



There were about twenty of us, storytellers all, and we were a wonderfully diverse group with life experiences all over the map. Jim showed us that our life transitions are the rich places from which to draw personal stories, and then we were encouraged to think about our cultural place maps.



I thought about my place map, and realized that I still, after all this time, am fighting the path my family has always followed - good, stable, regular work - our family motto is 'I fight poverty, I work,' and a sure knowledge of our place in life. I have flown in the face of that as a non-traditional storytelling writer, yet I continue to work an everyday life to hold body and soul together. It just goes to show how strong our family traditions can be.



Have you ever thought about your family of origin and the influence your traditions have on the decisions you make everyday? Think about it - it may surprise you; it did me.

National Storytelling Conference - Doc McConnell

The conference, which was in Gatlinburg was an interesting opportunity to be among peers and also to see and hear the greats of storytelling. One of those great voices passed away just after the festival, but he lives on in our hearts and on his videos - that of Doc McConnell, the Medicine Man.

I was privileged to attend Doc's workshop on the business of storytelling and it was worth the flat tire I got and everything else just to be with that wonderful human being. Of course, I had heard him at festivals but to sit in the room with a small group and learn from the master was an honor I'll not forget. My mother's maiden name was Connell, derived from O'Connell and I always felt it gave me a connection to Doc.

Listening to Elizabeth Ellis' 'Connections' was another special reason to be at the conference. I could have probably taken that session away and learned a years' worth of knowledge in that short space of time. Her voice became dear to me since my time at ETSU and I have learned to trust her implicitly. The week before the conference, she granted me an interview for my book, Riding the Clouds, and it was all about storytelling and family, but very little of it was repeated in her talk. She is a rich repository of American Storytelling with much more to come in the future.

Speaking of the book, Riding the Clouds, in addition to Elizabeth Ellis, I have now interviewed Dot Jackson, the author of Refuge; ballad singer Betty Smith, and oral tradition storyteller Charlotte Ross. As I interview these special people, I hear of still more and I believe this could become a life work. The notion of what it means to be 'home' in the Appalachian Mountains; how these tellers came to story and how the land continues to influence them today is as intriguing as their answers. . .

Gatlinburg preview

Yesterday, my good friend and neighbor, fellow storyteller Marjorie Shaefer and I drove down to Pigeon Forge, and then on to Gatlinburg, to check things out before the national storytelling conference. We will be staying at a friend's campground in Pigeon Forge and as we approached, I wondered at the wisdom of it. Lanes of traffic six deep were jammed with cars and trucks - folks enjoying the last days of summer- and all of them anxious to get off the road. When we finally cleared the frenetic angst of PF, we drove into the Smokies and that's when the peace began to settle in. We both felt it as we drove around those verdant curves and when we finally reached Gatlinburg and had to slow down again, it was ok.

Storytelling is going great, but the search for a day job continues - Johnson City maybe a thriving economic center, but real jobs, ones that pay more than minimum wage are hard to find. I'm thinking of querying the newspaper to interview others in the area and write about the experience, although I think I probably have enough to write about with Riding the Clouds.

Post it again, Saundra!

I just learned a big lesson in the world of blog posting: write it and save it because if you don't, it goes away.

It has been a trying time for the past several weeks. I'm still in negotiation with a publisher for my book Riding the Clouds, the life stories of our beloved Appalachian Storytellers, still working half-time with the Johnson City Parks and Recreation and plugging in the holes telling stories every chance I get.

My visit with the WaysMeet folks in Berea, Kentucky was all I wanted it to be. For me, with the awakening of interest in all things Appalachian, the trip to Berea was a pilgrimage, but it is one I wish had been of longer duration. The drive was incredibly beautiful, taking me through parts of mountain country I had not seen before. The group I met with was composed mostly of students, which suited me just fine even though I was expecting older folks. The talk changed in response to what I felt coming from them, and I loved the thoughtful expressions I saw on their faces. My hope is they will be willing to 'ride the clouds' themselves, lifting off the ground to taste adventure and live their dreams.

My new postcard brochures and business cards came in and I'm having a blast sending them out. If you read this post and can think of some places a teller of my sort would be appreciated, make a comment - it would be appreciated. I bartered for a brief video clip of my stories and I'm going to put that on YouTube next. After that, the web site . . .