Story Telling Day!

"It's all storytelling, you know. That's what journalism is all about."

~ Tom Brokaw~

"The storytelling gift is innate: one has it or one doesn't. But style is at least partly a learned thing: one refines it by looking and listening and reading and practice - by work." ~Donna Tartt~

Today is Storytelling day. I thought about several different ways of doing this blog today but decided to share one of my old stories. I hope you enjoy my story!

Something Old; Something New
A story By Patricia Sawyer.

Lisbet sat with her back against the wall and watched the leaves fall through the broken window. The sun was going down and soon another day would be gone. She wondered how many days she had been sitting here.

As the sun faded away behind the clouds the shadows slowly settled around the room. They covered the leaves piled under the window, and then the train tossed on the sagging old reading table. Finally even the tiny metal soldiers, marching in their crooked lines across the toy chest, were hidden in the darkness.

Lisbet was very sad. Every night she would sit awake and remember when she was new. Her dress had been Baby blue satin, fit for a princess. Not this untidy scrap she wore now. Her long dark hair had been braided neatly and tied with shiny blue ribbons instead of hanging dirty and tangled as it did right now. She had even worn shoes on her tiny feet and a snowy white bonnet on her head. But most of all Lisbet had a girl back then. A girl of her very own to love and share secrets with. As she drifted off to sleep she wondered how much longer she would have to wait. She wished she could be "New" again.

Lisbet woke just as the sun was peaking over the tree tops. She knew it was still early and wondered what had awakened her. She looked all around the dim dusty attic. The leaves were still piled under the broken window. The cobwebs still hung wispy, white in the corners. The train was still on the table and the soldiers were still marching in their crazy, crooked lines. Everything looked the exactly the same. Then she understood. It wasn't something she could see. It SOUNDED different! She heard voices! She wiggled close to the edge of her shelf trying to hear better. It had been so long since she had heard voices! "Oh MY goodness!" she said to herself, "Maybe I will be new again!" She was certain she heard the ring, ring of a phone, and the clang clang of pots as someone cooked breakfast. She hadn't seen a breakfast in a long long time. She could feel her doll heart beat with excitement. Then she heard a loud slam and everything was silent again.

Lisbet sat back against the wall and began to think that she had just been dreaming. She had hoped that a family had come here to live in the old house once again. A family with some boys for the train and the soldiers. A family with a girl for herself. In the early morning quietness Lisbet was even sadder. " Just a stupid dream!" she thought. All day Lisbet watched the clouds float by and thought about her dream. She had been certain that she had heard sounds from downstairs.

CLONK! CLUMP! PLUNK!

"What was that?" Lisbet wondered. She looked at the old train. It was still as before.

CLONK! CLUMP! PLUNK!

" I know I heard it then !" she said. She looked at the soldiers. Their lines didn't seem nearly so crooked all of a sudden.

THUMP..... THUMP......THUMP.....THUMP....

She knew it! She knew someone was coming. Someone was climbing the old staircase hidden in the upstairs closet. Someone was coming up to the attic. She was so excited she could barely sit still. The rusty bolt scraped as it slid back. The old hinges squeaked loudly as the door was slowly pushed open.

Lisbet quietly watched the child standing in the door. He wore an old tattered baseball cap and faded jeans. As he gazed around the darkened room he tossed a ball into the air, catching it in his other hand. "Ma! Come quick!" he yelled as he ran out and down the stairs. "A boy," thought Lisbet. "Just a boy! But at least Mr train and the soldiers will be new again, " she whispered. "remember me," she said to her friends.

"Look ma!" said the boy as he flung the door open toppling half of the soldiers. " Look at all this neat stuff! Can I have it?" he asked. "Well, we did buy the farm, so I guess whatever was left here belongs to us too," Said Ma. Ma told the boy to bring everything downstairs.

Lisbet tried to be brave as the Boy carefully untangled the old train. " some fresh paint and you'll be good as new." he mumbled. Next he tucked all the soldiers into a big old hatbox. "I sure like the way these march," he muttered to himself. Now standing almost directly below her. Lisbet had closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see her friends leave her alone.

As quick as a wink Lisbet's legs were Jerked from the shelf and she was falling. Falling right into the open arms of the BOY! " And for you," said a soft voice in a whisper, "first a bath and then some new clothes. My Other dolls will like you just fine." "OH MY!" thought Lisbet. " A Girl! Not a boy at all! Just a girl who likes trains and soldiers and DOLLS! Finally another Girl to Love.

Finally a girl of my own!"

Later Lisbet sat on the ruffled bed in the downstairs bedroom. She had been scrubbed clean as a whistle. That's what the girl had said. She was wearing a pretty new dress of pink satin. Ma had even found a tiny black pair of of shoes for her at a store in town.

She looked above the bed to the shelf where Mr. Train sat on a section of track beside a newer train. The paint really had made him look good as new. Next she looked over the window sills where the soldiers marched in straight neat lines along with some newer soldiers. They looked like a royal army marching in step across the windows. With all the dust gone, they too looked good as new.

Finally, Lisbet looked happily at the pink cheeked little girl sleeping there beside her. "Thank you!" whispered Lisbet, "Thank you for taking us away from the dark dirty attic." And as she closed her glass eyes for a night of Dolly dreams she whispered, "Thank you for making something old; something New again!"

I hope you enjoyed My story. for story telling day. I wrote this story October 8, 1986 for an assignment for a children's story writing class. I hope you enjoyed it. I love to tell stories. ask my family they will tell you it's so. Happy storytelling day. If you have kids or grand kids or maybe even just a friend. Tell them a story today. Let your thoughts free to share. And hopefully someone will share their own story with you. Have a great day!

Patsy

Daddy's Dating Rules.

One of life's greatest mysteries is how the boy who wasn't good enough to marry your daughter can be the father of the smartest grandchild in the world.”~ Proverb

“Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like handing over a million dollar Stradivarius to a gorilla.”~ Jim Bishop

My Daddy was a kind and gentle man. He loved us all dearly. I don't know if he ever discussed dating rules with My brothers, I'm sure he did that privately with them. But to date one of his daughters could be a dangerous thing. Daddy had certain rules that he expected us to follow as young ladies and The boys we might date were expected to do certain things. First of all we were not to call boys at all. Back then it was considered "Ugly" for little girls to call boys. There were a few girls who would called our house to ask for one of my brothers. Most didn't call more than once. Mama always gave them the girls shouldn't call boys talk and most never called again. Boys could call us, If they didn't mind talking to Daddy first. I was in the second grade when the first one called me. I heard daddy ask him why was he calling.. Then after a brief pause Daddy told him well you call back in ten years son and he hung up on the young fellow.. I didn't ask who called or why.. At that point I didn't like boys anyway.

My oldest sister Trudy was the first one to reach the magical dating age of sixteen. One of our cousins had asked Mama and Daddy if She could go on a double date with a boy none of us knew. I remember Daddy telling them that he didn't mind If Trudy went on a date but that the Boy better come to the door.. No horn blowing .. That he would have to know who the boys "people" were.. Couldn't be No jail birds or jack legs. We weren't allowed to date those... If he had long hair Daddy knew a good barber.. Or Daddy had some dog clippers. Either suited Daddy. He was not to buy Trudy any gifts of clothing of any kind.. Any boy who bought you clothes either wanted to help you into the new ones or out of your old ones. and Both of those were a good way to meet Daddy's double barrel. She had to be home at a decent hour lets say eight pm. Seven, forty five was even better. When you bring her home You do not sit in the car in the dark in the yard! You do not put her out at the road. You pretend to be a gentleman and walk her to the door. At which point you Thank her for a lovely evening and get about the business of leaving. And Daddy's last rule and the one I personally never understood was.. Don't come to my house without your socks on. There was nothing Daddy hated more than a boy who wasn't fully dressed to go on a date and that meant SOCKS and shoes..

Well the day of the date came and the young fellow came along with my cousin and her date to pick up my sister. They all came to the door and Daddy let them in.. The young man began by taking of his hat at the door and offering Daddy his hand.. I was sitting on the floor in the dining room sneaking a peek at the young man who would be the first to date one of my Daddy's daughters. I thought he was doing pretty good so far. Daddy shook his hand and told them to come in.. His hair was neatly cut and combed into place. Mama was sitting in the living room along with Trudy. Sue and her date Mark came in and sat down.. daddy invited the other young fellow to sit as well. Then began the questions.. Where are y'all planning to go? What time are you planning to be back? Who is going to be driving? Who is your Grand-daddy? And on and on.. Finally daddy having decided that the boy was harmless stood and said " well y'all young folks better get on the road if Trudy is going to be home on time." I really though the young man had passed the tests. I think Daddy thought so too. They almost made it out of the house before the crazy boy messed up. He turned to Daddy just as they were about to leave and held up his foot. He had on his socks just as Daddy had said he should but he had them on with sandals. He said " And Mr. Black Look I wore socks just like you said." I saw the frown turn daddy's smile upside down as Daddy pushed the door shut in his face.. He looked at Mama and said "I ought to Call her back in here; You see what a smart Alec jar head he is.!" But Daddy didn't make her come back in the house.. She went on that date with him.. But she never dated him again. Later I learned that Daddy always gave us girls two things before we went on a date.. A dollar and a dime. The dollar was to buy yourself a drink if you accidentally got out of the house with a boy to cheap to pay for you a soda and the dime was to call Daddy to come and get you should you find yourself on such a date. And we were to call first and he would be there by the time we finished our soda. I feel that it was a lucky thing that neither of the four of us daughters ever had to use our dollar or our dime!

I guess it sounds like Daddy was a hard man. He wasn't. He just wanted us to be safe. He was going to see who we were leaving with. He was going to say a few words to them before we left. And he would be waiting up when we came home. Daddy was always nice to the young men who came to carry away his daughters. He just liked things to be a certain way.

Times have surely changed from way back then when Daddies met young men at the door. Daddies don't know who their daughters are dating any more. Girls call boys and think nothing of it. Girls will come to get the boy and will wear his clothes if she can get them. If there are any rules for dating the young people break them all. My children said I was out of style and old timey when they were here at home and dating. I just smiled at them and said.. "yea, well be glad you didn't belong to my Daddy!"

I laugh often when I think about the rules Daddy had for dating.. They really are funny. especially the rule about socks. But I'm glad my Parents loved us enough to try and keep us safe from the world. I felt the same about my kids.. I hope my son will feel the same about his daughter. And since I know how my son loves his children, I think socks will be the least of a young mans worry when he attempts to date my Grand-daughter. Thanks for sharing a smile with me tonight!
Have a great night!
Patsy

Magic

No performer should attempt to bite off red-hot iron unless he has a good set of teeth. ~Harry Houdini
The real secret of magic lies in the performance. ~David Copperfield

Today being the birthday of Harry Houdini made me think of Magic and Magicians. I don't really know much about magic myself. The most magical thing I ever did was to cause a boiled egg to fall into a milk Bottle for my sixth grade science project. One of my older Brothers, Jimmy I think, showed me how to do it. I of course thought it was great. Unfortunately the Judges didn't agree. I had planned on hanging the Blue ribbon on my wall but am sad to say I didn't even get an Honorable mention. I do have one sister who can make half of her pinkie finger magically disappear and even though I know how she does it, I must admit that it looks very freaky to me.. I try to turn away every time she does it. I also have a brother who is always pulling quarters from all the little children's ears.. There have been times since I was grown that I wanted to call him and see if he could pull some from my ears as well. I used to think think that he must have huge pockets. Then one day I saw him getting change secretly handed from another brother as the group of kids kept getting larger.

Many years ago I lived near a Magician in a small town. He was very old and wrinkled. His few white hairs covering none of the thick blue veins running across his pale scalp. He had the loudest Birds I had ever heard all penned together in his back yard. I was terribly afraid of him and of his birds. I had to pass his house while walking my son to school and He would always call after us.. "Come here! Come and talk to me! My House is too quiet!"
We would walk along quietly until we were almost to his house.. We would speed up as soon as we were near and be almost running when we got there.. Many times we trotted By his porch trying to outrun his calls. The more he called the louder the birds called. The louder they called the faster Anthony and I ran.

He had never done anything to scare us really. And even though his looks were frightening He was no more scary than the Crypt keeper on TV and we Loved the ugly little Crypt Keeper.. But Granny who lived between us and him had told us many times that he had sold his soul to the devil for the ability to do magic. She said he could never die. She told us that he was hundreds of years old And Granny, who wasn't really my Granny at all, had us convinced that it was so. She loved to tell us all about how he had traveled the world with witches and spells and those awful birds as his only companions. I was an adult and I did know that she was just telling tales. But still I feared that old man and his birds. He had peacocks and roosters. There were pigeons and doves. He had Flamingos And several Black Birds. Big ugly Black birds that some mornings would be sitting on the porch rail as we came up the sidewalk nearly in a run.

Finally there came a morning that I had walked Anthony to school and was headed home. Just as I got right in front of his house he stepped right out in front of me stopping me dead in my tracks. I could feel my heart beating like crazy, the blood pounding in my ears as he shouted at me.. "Can I borrow a cup of sugar?" I was so sure he had planned to kill me and feed me to his birds. I asked him twice "What did you say?" He smiled a crooked smile and said.. "Sugar.. do you have sugar?" He spoke loudly but slowly as if I was dim witted. I managed to pull myself together enough to answer. "yes, Sir I have sugar at home." Praying he wasn't going to follow me there. I hurriedly offered to run and fetch him a cup. I ran home and got two cups of sugar just to be sure he was satisfied.. I didn't want to offend a soulless man. He thanked me very loudly and I began to realize that he thought I was deaf or at least very hard of hearing.. He told me that he was baking cookies and begged that Anthony and I stop back by after school and share some with him.

We talked about it that afternoon as we walked along together towards his house and our home.. We decided that he most likely wasn't going to eat us. And Home baked cookies were a good reason to stop for just a few minutes and see if he was really as scary as we thought. After all we reasoned he was hundreds of years old so we should be able to outrun him. When we got to his house he had a table set up on the front porch. He had cups of coffee for himself and me. He had a glass of Milk for Anthony but offered to change that if Anthony wanted something else. I hoped secretly that Anthony would ask for juice. I so wanted to see if he would cast a spell on the milk But Anthony just nodded that Milk was OK with his mouth stuffed with still warm Cookies. That afternoon he showed us a few of his birds and told us their names. He never told us his name.. He said everyone called him the Bird Man or they called him Wizard. So that day over cookies we began a friendship with Mr. Wizard.

Mr. Wizard died many years ago. He took sick not too many months after we all ate cookies on his porch; surrounded by the birds who were until us his only companions. He left his house to the town to be used in some way to help troubled children. I moved away before they ever did anything with his house. They sold most of his birds. The peacocks went to a zoo. The flamingos that screamed so loudly went to an exotic animal farm. The doves and the big black crows they simply turned loose to go back to the wild. Last week I rode by his house.. I almost didn't recognize it with the bird pens all gone and the wheelchair ramp. I looked twice at the porch thinking to myself how he would be pleased to see them there. All the girls. One with hair the color of peacocks blue feathers and another with Pink flamingo curls. Sitting on the porch rail was another with raven hair standing on end. Stuffing Her mouth with what appeared to be cookies. A tall glass of milk resting near her hand.. I heard them laugh together as we waited for the traffic light to change. Just as we drove pass I turned and watched as a dove came from the roof and sat down on the end of the porch where some one had hung a feeder. And I thought of My magical friend who I was told could never die. And I realized that the magic we create everyday will live on long after we are gone. Because the magic of life lies within the love we share. Share a little kindness and love every chance you get.
Created a little magic in some ones life when you can.
Have a magical wonderful day!
Patsy