Storytelling is the social and cultural activity of sharing stories, often with improvisation, theatrics, or embellishment. Stories or narratives have been shared in every culture as a means of entertainment, education, cultural preservation and instilling moral values.
This according to Wikipedia is the definition of storytelling. I'd have to add that it is also a means of preserving memories. At some point, these stories should be written down for our future generations.
I've recently read a post on my sister's blog, Lowtide, that talked about the retelling of stories. My daughter is a master at telling family stories. More often it is the situation of someone saying, "tell them what happened" or "remember when...". Those times soon become the family stories that are retold time and again when we "gather".
So to borrow from my sister's blog, the following is one of our family's favorite stories. If you read my previous blog about my passion for china you will understand my aunt's passion as well. As a matter of fact, I may have mentioned this story in that previous post. So here goes....
My mother's family is from a small pottery town in northern Ohio. My grandfather and a large percentage of the residents made their living working at the pottery. The pottery eventually closed but thousands of pieces of Royal China are still circulating in homes and restaurants.
When my aunt travels, she always checks the china to see if it was made in Sebring. As the story is told, my aunt, uncle, and their youngest daughter were dining in a nice restaurant when my aunt started checking china. Without thinking, she lifted the small creamer and turned it over to read the imprint on the bottom. It was full of cream which spilled all over the table. Uncle Dave's and Michele's jaws dropped in surprise, which made the gaffe all the funnier to my aunt! I love listening to Aunt Peggy retell this story.
Sometimes the telling of one story leads to another story. Such is the case with one of my favorite stories Grandad told about his friend Kenny.
My sister and I traveled to Sebring, Ohio on one of our road trips to visit our Grandparents. Grandad was a storyteller who could keep your attention, even as a young child. He also loved to sing and knew more folk songs and jingles than anyone I know. There would be no doubt that we would be treated to stories and singing with a visit to Grandad's house. Sitting around the kitchen table one evening, after serving him some of the vegetable soup my aunt and mom had put up in their freezer, he begins to tell us a story about his friend, Kenny. He and Kenny had been out to the local Diner once upon a time and had ordered chili. Kenny thought that he had bitten down on a piece of bone. When he spit it out he found it was his tooth! He wrapped it in a napkin to show his dentist the next day. The next time Grandad saw Kenny he inquired about his tooth. As related by Kenny, apparently after going to the dentist he was told that he was not missing any teeth! CRIPES, to use one of Grandad's favorite exclamations! Grandad ends his tale by saying, "we never ordered the chili after that". I took that to mean that they still ate at the local Diner, just not the chili!
Back home again, I begin to retell Grandad's story to my husband and two sons. I need to mention that I am NOT the best storyteller in the family. When Grandad told the story he mentioned Kenny by his first and last name which, by that time, I had forgotten his last name. I paused when retelling the story, saying "Kenny, uh, Kenny, um... I don't remember his last name". Immediately my story is interrupted by my husband who is making suggestions for the last name.... Loggins, Rogers. My oldest son has a puzzled look on his face since he has never heard of Kenny Loggins or Kenny Rogers. The husband explains who they are. Younger witty son suggests that maybe his last name was Bunkport. My husband and I are laughing at this as our oldest son has that same puzzled look. We laughed, even more, when he asked, "Who is Kenny Bunkport?". The younger witty son never cracks a smile! After composing myself I did finish telling Grandad's story. An interesting note is that the new tale of someone named Kenny Bunkport now overshadows the tale of a lost tooth. I don't recall our sons' reactions when they found out that Kenny never lost his tooth! However, when the town of Kennebunkport, Maine is mentioned we lapse into that familiar, "remember when" conversation, and the story is retold much to our amusement.
By the way, I think it might have been Anderson.
Until next time, keep sharing those family stories and memories.
