Appalachian Storytellers

Last Saturday, I went to breakfast at the Farmer's Daughter with five friends - storytellers all. Located between Jonesborough and Greeneville on HWY-107, it's a big, family-style restaurant serving excellent, country food. I knew about it and even thought of going a couple of times, but they don't take reservations and one look at the wrap-around lines was enough to send me elsewhere. Breakfast, however, was another matter.

It was a snowy day - is there anything else in East Tennessee right now? and very cold, but we piled into Valerie's nice little Subaru wagon and took off on our adventure. What we got was delicious food in a rather plain dining room. Crockery, flatware and real mugs warmed the heart, and when our staffer filled out cups with rich, dark coffee, things started warming up. You can't get that many storytellers in one place and not have a bit of entertainment...

We were a varied lot: me from north Florida and now east Tennessee; Valerie from Nashville, Kenny from Texas, Marjorie from Michigan, Teresa from California, Mary from Oregon - all as different as can be, but united in our curiosity and love of story.

Now, the food: eggs cooked your way, grits, hashbrowns, bacon, sausage, ham, sausage gravy, fried apples and apple butter, biscuits and pancakes. Finished, we staggered over to the Mountain View store to shop for Amish cheese and bakery goods and kept the good times going for quite a while. I noticed, however, that on the return trip we were very quiet...

Death in Arizona

Life is so raw now. Perhaps it always has been, but being snowed in for a week, plus having a nasty sinus infection has left me at the mercy of the news. I no longer watch TV, but NPR is my constant companion, giving me what I feel is a more level-headed view of the world than some of the networks. This week, however, I have heard numerous comments about a troubled young man named Jared who managed to gun down an awful lot of people in Arizona, killing some, injuring others and frightening all. That he aimed at a congresswoman who has managed to survive is amazing; that he killed an innocent 9-year-old child interested in serving her country saddens me almost more than any of the other losses.

Right now, I am listening to the soothing voice of President Obama addressing a memorial service. He and his wife are there to help heal the deep cuts produced by hatred. I pray for his success.

Why must we make it so easy to own guns? Why are we so afraid? Must we, too, own a gun so we can finish off those who come after us? Will that make it right? I doubt it. At least when nature kills it seems to be mindless; there's nothing mindless about the murders we have seen in the last few years. Surely love for one another and the love of the Creator should lead us away from violence, open us to greater generosity and bring true peace. Maybe that's not in the works for human beings.

Snow on the Mountain

Christmas at home this year was a special joy: my grandson Tucker has a new baby sister, Tatum. This grandmother thing is pretty special and I'm loving every minute of it, so much so that I waited too long to hit the road and ran right into the worst storm I've ever been in.

I like to brag that I've driven in hurricanes/next to tornados/through bogs and in sand, but nothing I've ever done compared to driving in blinding snow over the mountain on Sam's Gap and Bruekner (sp?) Pass between Asheville and Jonesborough. Had it not been for two snow plow trucks flying through the snow banks, I might still be on the mountain, frozen for someone to find in the near future...

On the other hand, seeing the mountains at 20mph gave me a different view of them - blinding white even at night; huge clumps of snow 'rocks' on the highway that looked like real rocks; seeing others struggle and pull over and keeping on for no other reason than wanting to live to tell the story...

Christmas at home

It's already December 17th and I have yet to buy or make any but the most minimal gifts for my family and friends. It seems each year I wait longer, daring the holiday to catch me, and each time I do it, I live to regret my choice to delay getting out and doing what must be done. Part of the reason is that now my family just does stockings for the adults and it's much more fun to go on a mad shopping spree, dropping the unexpected into the cart and then separating everything when I get home. I love doing it that way, but this year I've got to come up with a gift that will be bargained for among the family members. I will, of course, take something home to north Florida from the mountains of East Tennessee, but just exactly what to take has escaped me. Nothing has called me to say "take me home with you."
Then there's the weather to contend with - we've had severe weather already this year and it hasn't been condusive to shopping. Normally, the climate in this little pocket of the mountains is moderate - not so this year, and I have felt the cold more than ever, and I"ve worried about those less fortunate than me and tried to remember them in any way that I can.
Now that we have a brief respite from the snow and ice, I think I'll have breakfast at the Cranberry Thistle in Jonesborough in the morning, and shop right here in this lovely little town. It's more than lovely - this place is flat out beautiful and very old and it always makes me feel good to give back to the folks that make it so.
Happy shopping!

Christmas Time in Jonesborough, TN

The streets of lovely old Jonesborough are decorated for Christmas with great bunches of evergreen magnolia branches, and all of the downtown lampposts wear wreaths fastened with bright red bows. Inside the Visitors Center, Christmas trees decorated by various community groups add a festive air to what will soon be frenzied activity. Santa Claus is coming soon and horse-drawn carriages decorated with tiny lights roll through town; storytellers tell their favorite tales, and most likely, new stories will evolve from this years' holiday. Grandma's and grandpa's will dredge their memories for tales from childhood to entertain the grandchildren, telling them of the days when horses were stabled under the beautiful courthouse and folks hitched their horses and buggies to the posts outside.

Tomorrow night, carolers carolers dressed in Victorian era clothing will fill the air around the old courthouse with the songs we all love and remember from childhood, and next week, the magical Christmas Parade brings Santa to town, and we can pretend to be children again.

If the paragraphs above are sappy and filled with a touch of sadness, you've caught the gist of what this piece is about. I love this beautiful and well-tended place , but it really is dream-like. I've often likened it to Brigadoon, and I'm far from the only one, but running underneath the carefully reconstructed beauty is real life - the joy and pain that everyone knows. Perhaps the big holiday celebration this year will help us forget burgeoning unemployment/underemployment, homes lost, rising medical costs and crazy weather.

This is not the time for those of us blessed with abundance to hold back from giving to those who are not.Join me in sharing with those who are less fortunate this year. Find something warm and give it to someone who is cold. I promise it will warm your heart, and the fragrance of joy will breathe its sweetness over your soul, especially if you make that commitment one that will last all year long.

Fantasy - stretching beyond

I've been heavily into dragons of late, reveling in fantasy and loving every minute of it. It seems as though I can stay buried in a project just so long and then I must break through the atmosphere and go some place completely different - dragon lore done well is the perfect fit when this thing takes me over.

I started my fantasy journeys with Tolkien and Ursula Le Guin and have continued to read many more, finding myself deeply into Anne McCaffery's Dragonriders of Pern series. She's collaborating with her son Todd to explore dragonlore even further now, which I find interesting. Unfortunately I started this series way out instead of at the beginning, so I am literally backtracking before moving forward again.

As I read I learn what I do and do not like in writing certain kinds of stories. One is that I do not enjoy reading pieces that are 98% dialogue and I do not hesitate to put a book down that does it. Beautifully written prose peppered with appropriate dialogue when there are characters in action can be a wonderful pleasure to read because it allows my imagination to engage in creation.

We need good writing to take us to a place where we'll be challenged, nurtured and the imagination sparked. I can usually tell when I'm in a good place for writing, because I will enjoy reading what I wrote. I can also go back to some of my writing and clearly understand why it never got off the ground. Perhaps the descriptors are colorless, characters underdeveloped or the storyline is dull. So what can we do to relieve the monotony?

One way is free writing - forcing oneself to write until the spirit loosens and the pen flows into that place where the imagination engages.

Another is to get outside for a walk or a run in nature. There is nothing more fascinating that the mysteries of Earth Mother. Think of the transition of a butterfly from larvae to caterpillar to butterfly, or the intricacies of lichen or the mating of Luna moths.

One evening, just before sundown, I noticed two of those chartreuse beauties on the window screen. I stood there transfixed by the miracle of procreation as the male lit gently on the female's back and held her there until the sun set. The next morning the male was gone but the female still clung to the screen. Later that day she, too, was gone. I've thought of them often - thankful to be a part of their story and grateful for the opportunity to offer them protection. I wonder when I will weave that experience into something more...

Thanksgiving 2010

I find myself a little somber after yesterday's festivities. Living far from home often makes the holidays more of a challenge for many of us, especially single folks, so I joined two friends for a feast to remember.

Since roughly half of my belongings are still in storage in North Florida awaiting my eventual return to my roots, I still have no dining table or chairs; no turkey platter, no big vases and none of my usual decorations, so I had to get inventive.

Stanley's produce helped a lot - they had lovely bundles of sunlflowers on sale for $2 a bunch - that one was a no-brainer; fresh turnips, sweet potatoes and real butter and yeast rolls were a part of my contribution to the meal. Add the turkey, dressing, gravy and cranberries my friends brought (plus a table...) and we had a feast the Pilgrims would surely have envied, especially since they were probably starving for traditional foods around that period of time.

Today, I'm dealing with the memories of Thanksgivings past and relatives long gone, but it's not all bad. I have those lovely sunflowers in a big jar to look at, Geoffrey, my pound poodle and Veda the orange tabby to keep me company, and leftovers - yum!