It is nice to know that Peggy Melanson and I both remember the moment
when the light bulb went on for me the same way. I can still feel the
excitement as I was listening to Peggy tell me the stories of the books
she wanted to publish and I realized what a master storyteller she was.
Her first public story performance knocked the socks off many people.
She is one of my favorite storytellers. It is hard to pick favorites but
a story about a crystal bowl from her Buddha on The Bus© collection
is a tale that stuck with me and one of the first stories I heard. Here
she is a guest blogger. I really hope she comes out east and we get to hear her soon. - Norah
Dooley
Meeting a Storyteller and Mentor
by Peggy
Melanson
I’ve discovered that quite a few people
visualize “Storytelling” as a child sitting on a parent’s lap while Mom or Dad
read stories from children’s books. For
a long time, I was one of these people.
 |
| Peggy Melanson |
While sitting in the waiting room of a new
primary physician’s office, I noticed several large posters on the wall. One particular poster caught my eye. It was a
pastel watercolor painting of a lovely neighborhood with the title, “EverybodyBakes Bread, by Norah Dooley. It was one
of many children’s stories that the author had written. Looking closely at the
poster, I noticed that she lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Since I lived in Somerville, the next town
to Cambridge, I thought to look her up. At the time, I had no idea how brazen
that idea was.
When I arrived home, I called information
and was surprised to find that Norah was listed. Assuming that she would have a secretary, I
planned to leave a message. I was very surprised when she answered the phone
personally.
I told her about noticing the poster and
asked if she might advise me on how to get my brother’s Christmas Wishing Apple
story published. I did not know that the process was very difficult.
Many well-meaning non-writers say things
like, “That’s a wonderful story, and you should get it published! Or, you
should send that to Reader’s Digest.”
They have no idea what it entails.
Most people think all you have to do is call a publisher and they’ll
rush to your door.
I was astounded when she invited me to meet
her for coffee at a local Cambridge coffee house. We sat and talked for two hours. It was wonderful to be with someone who
understood my stories.
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| Love to mentor but really I just "connected" Peggy and she did the rest -NAD |
Suddenly Norah sat back in her chair and
looked at me with a very serious expression and said, “My god, you are a
storyteller.” Visions of children on
laps danced in my mind. “I responded, “What do you mean?” Instead of explaining, she asked me what I
was doing the following Tuesday evening. And, suggested we go to Foozles Book
Store in Porter Square Cambridge to see Master Storyteller, Brother Blue. I was
dubious about attending a children’s storytelling event. I was in for a very
big surprise.
When we arrived, I was astounded to
see about twenty grownups and no kids in the bookstore. We got there early so
that she could show me the process.
Brother Blue’s wife, Ruth Hill was in charge of the timing for people telling
stories. People wishing to tell a story,
placed their name on a piece of paper that was placed in a basket. Names were
randomly chosen and each teller had five minutes to tell any kind of story. A featured teller was allowed thirty minutes
at the end of the group performances.
When tellers reached about four minutes, Ruth would nod her head at the
speakers to remind them they had only one minute left. At five minutes, Ruth rang a ceramic bell to
end the performance. Later, I realized
that those rules would be substantial in the timing of my stories, told and
written.
My First “Told” story
I cannot find the exact words to describe that
first experience. “Stunned, mesmerized
and enchanted to be in the presence of this wonderful couple.” Later I
discovered that the group was (and still is) called, The League for New England
Storytelling” L.A.N.E.S. I’m still a member today
For some reason, I felt absolutely
comfortable standing up to tell the true story, “Teenage Buddha.” As I will
mention later, Brother Blue and Ruth made me feel that my story was the most
important in the world. The people that
attended congratulated me. And, Norah,
kept saying, “I told you that you are a storyteller. “Now, do you know what I
mean?” It took a while for it to sink
in.
Soon after that evening, Foozles
bookstore closed and “Storytelling Night” would be held for many years every
Tuesday evening at Sherrill Hall Library at Harvard University. I attended every event and it was wonderful
getting to know other people with like minds. And, Norah still helps me with
advise
In early 2000, Robert Smyth, Publisher
of Yellow Moon Press sent out a call for stories about Brother Blue and
Ruth. I was honored to have my story,
“Seeds of the Universe,” chosen and it was published as, “Brother Blue-Golden
Comet in 2001.
My first “Fantasy style”
Story follows:
Seeds of The Universe
While driving alone, just before the rain,
down a dark and winding road in Arlington, Massachusetts, a falling star caught
my attention. Shooting across the heavens, it seemed to come straight at
me. A little bit frightened and filled
with awe, I drove faster to get out of its path. When I turned to look back, I saw a jagged
burst of lightning pierce the night sky.
The brilliant flash of light streaked low and over the tall trees behind
me. It was then, that I remembered who Brother Blue was and how we were
connected.
Pulling my car over to the side of the
road, I wrote this story on odd bits of paper found in the car, while the rain
pummeled the roof and the thunder and lightning crashed around me.
It was a millennium ago while
slumbering in my ancient soul that a golden comet streaking through the heavens
awakened me. The splendid brilliance raced through earth’s atmosphere, weaving
and dancing amidst a stand of trees. As
if searching, it moved and then suddenly struck a colossal tree, setting it
ablaze. Glowing and split in half, though still attached at the roots, the tree
thundered to the ground. Sparks from one half of the burning wood flew like
fireflies, imbedding themselves within the tall timber of the surrounding
forest. Deep, deep, deep they burrowed,
to slumber within the wood, waiting to be awakened when the time was right.
Thus Brother Blue was born to seed the world with stories.
Spiraling shafts of light from the
other half of the felled tree sprang up and raced to spin protectively and
embrace the trees that the sparks had entered.
It was then that Ruth was released to
preserve and shield Blue’s brilliant seeds. Born together out of the unity of
the universe and brought to earth from the light of life, Brother Blue and Ruth
prepared the world for their children - stories!
Many years passed before fire was
discovered and wood was used as its fuel.
As people came to sit around the fires, Blue’s sparkling stories awoke
from within the pieces of burning timber. They began to snap and touch the cave
dwellers who sat for warmth. Slowly at
first, with hesitancy and care, the act of sharing stories gave birth to other
sparks that entered other people and stories spread throughout the centuries.
My primordial soul came to life again,
one day when a storyteller, Norah Dooley walked me into a cave of books where
Ruth and Blue’s children lived.
I saw my ancient Father and Mother and
my brothers and sisters in all the pages made from the wood of those spark
filled trees.
Many people were there, drawn to
Brother Blue’s light and Ruth’s glowing kindness because fireflies of memory
danced in their minds.
Blue stood before them, dressed in a
rainbow of butterflies, arms raised, eyes cast towards the heavens, perhaps
seeing his own comet’s light and pronouncing wonders. When he took my hand and proclaimed that my
first told story was perfect and wonderful...I believed him. When I saw the smile and flash of agreement
in Ruth’s eyes, I felt the rolling of the old thunder.
On that day, the world hesitated in
it’s turning to allow my ancient soul to be awakened once more by the power of
Brother Blue’s ageless, universal spirit. My own spark was set free to fly
around the campfires of the world, telling, telling, and telling. And I’m home
again!
+++
SIDEBAR:” Teaching and
inspiring others" won Peggy Melanson the opportunity to be a Torchbearer
for the 2002 Olympics. She was also awarded "Cool Woman of America"
by American Movie Classics Television Network and selected, “Ms Congeniality”
by the Golden Girls Pageant. Peggy is a writer and storyteller, Mixed media and
Zentangle She also is a” One Woman Comedy show” presenter. As a freelance
writer she has written columns for several New England magazines and
newspapers. Peggy is presently working on "Dancing on the Roof,” a Memoir.
"Stand down and harm not a hair on any head." Dom Pedro roared at his crew. " "Stand down Save your shot. Sheathe your swords. To the boats! " He ordered his men off the Wolf and back to their ship. They left and all on the Wolf breathed again and pulled themselves together, glad to be alive. But all too soon there was a cry ," They are coming back! " The passengers saw a long boat leaving the pirate ship and as the oars flashed it quickly closed the distance between the ships. Don Pedro appeared on deck again, this time with a large package that he gave to Captain Wilson, "Mary's" Father. Unwrapped it revealed a bolt of beautiful, sea-green, silver threaded, brocaded silk. "For her wedding dress!" he said and turned on his heel and left...
As I came to the moment in the story where the pirates return, I pointed across Fort Point Channel and... a long boat magically appeared! You can't make this stuff up. Coming from the Boston Tea Party Ship, with oars flashing in the bright noon sunlight, I found I was pointing at and narrating the movements of an actual long boat heading straight for our side of the channel. It was an exact replica of the picture in my head. This sure made it easy to explain to my young audience what a long boat was. In my 25 years of storytelling, it was the best serendipity-sfx I have ever experienced.
