My work sends me to some funky venues.
This one was a park along side a highway where the planes
are low overhead in their approach to Logan. It was about 90º F.
It was also before lunch and maybe after nap
About 20 kids about 3 years old each,
walking like somnambulists, holding on to
clothesline were brought out to me and
we were all led to a huge tree.
How primal - how essential !
Me, a tree and a group of children.
This is storytelling.
This is what it is all about!
The disaffected teen staff were sullen
and glum. Who could blame them?
It was so damn hot, humid and smelly.
But when I pointed out that the broken glass mixed in the
wet with dew*grass as unsuitable for tender toddler bottoms of my audience they
became even unhappier.
We moved around the tree and finally to another tree.
And I started at last.
A plane roared overhead. I pushed on.
Traffic flowed and growled in the background.
I engaged and cavorted.
Then a bright and perspicacious little boy noticed a huge dog
turd about 18" inches away from my foot.
God I wished I had seen that first.
"Wow. Look Dog POOP!"
20 little heads were snapped around and riveted
in attention on the brown, perfectly
formed canine offering by my foot. The teen counselors perked up.
This became a moment of intense interest. My audience could not get enough -
Then it evolved into group participation.
They had to see and share and even wanted to touch.
This last desire snapped the teen's into action.
They had no tools to remove the intruder so the
counselors worked on crowd control.
The rest of my gig was spent in shameless competition.
By god ! I am storyteller!
I am more
interesting than dog poop.
Story is bigger than this!
Isn't story bigger than this?
I bought a sound system next year.
I bring plastic bags.
I know who I am.
I am a storyteller and
that is "the %@$!."
[*dew? - indeed -dog pee more likely]