One Tin Soldier

As a child, I remember my sister, Cathy’s fondness for the folksong, One Tin Soldier, a tale about the peace between people, Mountain people.  However, since I was so little at the time I didn’t understand that it was an anti-war song.  The other day I was in Publix grocery shopping when I saw the movie, Billy Jack,  that featured the song.  Somehow, all of this made me think about the folktales and legends that we have been discussing in class.  So I grabbed the movie and came home to watch it.  Billy Jack, a half-breed Navajo Indian and Vietnam War hero, defends college students from the townspeople who do not understand or like the hippie counter-culture.  The movie tells a tale of oppression and racism that occurs among the Navajo tribes.  Angered and outraged, Billy Jack, strikes back. 

Go ahead and hate your neighbor; go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of heaven; you can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowin' come the judgment day
On the bloody morning after, one tin soldier rides away.

Movies, stories and music are powerful rhetorical artifacts. Audiences have been persuaded to examine their beliefs as well as give into their emotions while watching, listening and participating.  Storytelling, folk tales, poetry and spoken word traditions are the roots of our rhetoric today. Songs, like One Tin Soldier remains as powerful today as it was in the late sixties. The irony of its longevity is that it is still relevant.  Bands like U2 continue to use the seeds of folktales and rhetoric to influence culture today.

On the bloody morning after, one tin soldier rides away...Sunday, Bloody Sunday.

Bad Words - SPOILER ALERT

 

I’ve been studying about competition and storytelling slams.  Over the weekend the movie, Bad Words came out in the theatres.  It is a story about Guy Trilby, a 40 year old middle school dropout who seeks revenge by attempting to win a televised spelling bee.  After finding a loophole that all contestants must not have graduated the 8^th grade by the date of the National Spelling Bee, Trilby proceeds to advance to the end.    Throughout the movie I am reminded that competitions aren’t always about winning, but are about honing your skill set.  One character, Chai, the young kid that befriends Trilby reminds us of this.  Struggling with finding a friend in real life, Chai enjoys the intelligent sarcastic and often black humor of his immature genius friend. 

In addition to the friendship that develops, another side of competition rears its head – aggression.  Not only do the staff members show the ugly side of agon, but the parents do as well.  In one scene, the Director of the National Spelling Bee fixes the competition, disgracing the event and honor of competing.  In her office, a host of angry parents ridicule her for allowing Trilby to compete and request her to resign should he be allowed to continue to compete.  Parents horrified that Trilby continues despite the measure taken to eliminate him, behave irrationally, displaying non-sportsman like behaviors.  Chai’s father, in an attempt to gain a competitive edge, tells his son to befriend his enemy so Trilby cannot beat him when the time comes.  At one point the entire crowd chats, “ Kick him out, kick him out" forcing the head of the Bee to aks for respect to the honor of the competition.   Trilby responds by spelling his word accurately - disgracing the honor of the competition and the man that began the program.

I enjoyed the black comic nature of the film. It was interesting to me to see that there are those parents that fight for equality with “No Child Left Behind” wanting all children to earn awards fighting against the agony of defeat  and those that fight like gladiators in the ring, until death.  The film Bad Words demonstrates that arête and philotimias are required components of agon, or competitions.  

Here Be Dragons

 

This past week I gave a speech on the myth of audience studies, paralleling the myth of dragons to the ubitquitous words of what constitutes an audience. In ancient times,  uncharted regions on maps gave fearsome legends of dragons to ward off persons from the dangers of the unknown, or undefined, allowing words to quantify, keeping everyone satisfied with a rational explanation of what lay beyond.  The myth often takes on a life of its own, and the facts from the original event, if they existed, become lost.

One tale or urban legend that comes to mind is folk song and poem , Puff The Magic Dragon.  The lyrics tell a story of an ageless dragon, Puff and his playmate Jackie Paper.  Jackie grows older and loses interest in imaginary friendships while Puff mourns the loss of innocence.  Urban legend has suggested that Puff the Magic Dragon is a story about drugs, not the hardships of growing up.   Written during the sixties, many speculated that Puff  told a tale of drug abuse, giving a new interpretation. 

Dragons are wonderful creatures of our imagination, and are forever etched in history. The myths, folk tales and legends of dragons offer explanations for the unknown and make heroes out of ordinary men and women who tell their tale.  And as each generation shares their tales, new interpretations will occur and legends will develop. 

Blue Apple Players

This week, mom and I were going through old magazines from home- Louisville, Kentucky. One magazine, Today’s Woman, a free magazine in the area that mom had kept featured a story on storyteller and playwright, Geraldine Snyder co-founder of the Blue Apple Players.

The Blue Apple Players began in 1976 when I was in elementary school. My mother remembered that my school, Middletown Elementary, took a chance on two storytellers bringing the Blue Apple Players to our school for their inaugural event. I still have vivid memories of their performance. I remember sitting on the cold gym floor huddled with my classmates, hanging on every dramatic moment as they share a tale of American history. While the Blue Apple Players lean more towards acting than storytelling, they told the story of “Johnny Appleseed”, a folk hero and American legend that introduced apple trees to farmers across the new nation. At the time, I thought it was a simple folktale. Almost 40 years later, I understand the complexity of the oral tradition of narrative and how it impacts the American Identity. Johnny Appleseed was only a character in a story to me then, but as an American legend and folk hero, his story was passed along through the ages, allowing one to sees how storytelling forms our identity - the American Identity. The Blue Apple Players continued to perform at Middletown Elementary, I saw numerous dramatic interpretations, but the story of Johnny Appleseed remains my favorite.

Today, the Blue Apple players still perform for over 70,000 children in the Louisville area. They also visit four surround states and have played in the Parker Theatre in Miami. This year they merged with the local Walden School in hopes to continuing to provide a strong arts education for creative young people using the power of dramatic storytelling. I feel honored to have been a part of the initial success of something so powerful.

HONY

I love social media, not only for reconnecting or keeping in touch but for being exposed to new ideas and creations.  I use Instagram, FB, and Pinterest regularly.  A couple of my favorite pages include Word Porn, Dangerous Minds, Higher Thinking and HONY.  Of the four, HONY ties to storytelling as it shares the everyday lives, memories, and thoughts of the people of New York.

Blogger Brandon Stanton took candid photographs for three years showing people of all demographics.  He started in 2010 with 6, 000 portraits, posting them on FB. In his first year, he was only taking photos; however, as his project grew he started sharing stories with his subjects.  Today, there are photos of people alone, with their pets, with lovers, with friends and family.  Each picture tells a story, a “photographic census”.  Stanton focuses on focus on interesting people and their stories, demonstrating every emotion, condition, and magnificence of the human being.   Stanton’s  project has had numerous “copy cats”.  Many universities have started their own pages to tell the stories of their staff, faculty and students. 

Capturing FAU's stories might prove to be a cool idea for a service learning project/fundraiser.  Stanton has successfully raised money with both his blog and book.

Significance of Objects

Every object has a story, right?  Objects carry the tales of where, who, when, what, and why.  This week my nephew, Aaron, sent me an eBay auction listing of one of my Grandmother’s needlepoint purses. I wondered who had owned it, and if they knew the story behind my Grandmother.  These people didn’t have the memory of seeing the colorful rows of silk fabrics, threads, and beautifully painted canvases.  And certainly, the purse didn’t evoke the memory of eating chicken salad with grapes on Melba toast while hearing the buzz of sewing machines above for them. So it got me thinking stories create value in objects. I wondered if anyone else had thought about this before.

Through a little research, I found an anthropological experiment that took 100 meaningless items rounded up from thrift, stores, yard sales, and flea markets costing a mere $128.74 to show the effect of narrative on any given object’s value.  Researchers recruited 100 writers, comedians, storytellers, and almost anyone they believed had great creativity.  Each storyteller took one item, wrote a story, and the team posted the ad on eBay.  Each listing included a note explaining the significance of the object had been invented by a storyteller; therefore, no one was deceived in thinking the object had significantly more value. The result was a profit of over $3500.  What became most fascinating about the experiment was that the project itself became a story, one that became co-created. The objects of significance became a souvenir of the experiment. 

This experiment then spawn an “object slam”, where audiences invented competing stories about an insignificant object.  Expanding even further, the idea became a Museum exhibit, demonstrating human-object communications. The entire string of events was amazing me, further demonstrating how humans are homo narrans, each of us deeply ingrained with the human propensity for story-telling and its value.

Storykeepers

 

During Spring Break, I caught up on rest and TV documentaries.  While scanning through the TV guide, a title caught my eye, “The Storykeepers”.  I thought perhaps this would be a show about storytelling as memoriam.  However, I was surprised to see that it was an animated Christian cartoon set in Rome around 46 AD.  Using Rome as a frame, the story tells the tale of a group of Christians who share Jesus’ stories during the 1^st century.  I found this interesting due to Marc asking if the Bible was/is a frame during our last class.  While I typically would not have stopped to watch the cartoon, I did.  .  The cartoon ended with the phrase, “There are as many story keepers as there are stars in the sky.”  I felt that this really summed up the idea that within each of us there is a storyteller with tales that need to be heard.  “The Storykeepers” demonstrated the importance of oral narrative as a key medium through which people came to make sense of their world. Before man learned to write, he relied on a strong memory to gain knowledge.  For this, he had to be an active listener, eager to engulf every piece of information to share his story.  Today, this art form has evolved into something more intense.  Storytelling is an integral part of society and culture, defining values, desires, dreams, as well as prejudices and perceptions.

In the Kitchen With An Appetite

This week I worked on my thesis: The Legitimacy of Cookbooks as Rhetoric.   One of the cookbooks that I have selected to look at is Melissa Clark’s, In the Kitchen with an Appetite, featuring family stories of eating and cooking.  Each chapter begins with a short essay, typically including a story about Clark’s childhood or memory, and concludes with a recipe.   Clark begins the book by sharing childhood memories of travelling with her foodie parents, being exposed to all kinds of food that children normally “squeal over” and refuse to try.  One story that I found particularly entertaining reveals how Clark’s family used a technique called, “Clarkwise” to rotate their plates clockwise after eating only one quarter of their plates, so each member could experience something new.  Cute idea, right?

I love this cookbook.  Perhaps it’s the Whiskey Soaked Dark Chocolate Cake’s ingredients, but I venture to say that it is more likely the story that Clark perfected the cake to win the hearts of all the boys in her class I love most.  Or it could be her updated Thanksgiving classic, Pumpkin Pie that uses Butternut Squash to woo her friends and family, staunch traditionalists when it comes to Turkey Day.  It is not only the recipes and stories within, but the emotions that are evoked when I read the stories.   It was as if I was sitting at the table, moving plates Clarkwise, or being fooled by the “Butternut Squash” at Thanksgiving with the Clarks.  

Clark demonstrates how deeply people care about food and the traditions that surround the food.  Top Chef, Francis Lam, frequently says, "I eat food because I love food. I cook food because I love food. But I write about food because I love people." Food and the meals we share, tell stories about who we are and how we want to live.  If the occasion is significant, we mark it with food.  It tells our story.

Six P's, and perfect isn't one!

This past week in class we performed for the first time.  As discussed in class, nerves or lack thereof as an instructor, and nerves as a performer are inherently different.  I had always known that many celebrities suffer from performance anxiety as I have always had this challenge.  Growing up as a student in gifted and talented programs I always had to get in front of my peers.  I sang and performed in school since I was 12, and although I survive, I have had numerous sleepless nights trying to perfect my performances.  I only wish that we had programs like storytelling and National Forensic Leagues to aid in my anxiety because the more experience you have the less nervous you get.  Once I begin talking I am usually fine, it is the volunteering or walking up on stage that sometimes gets me.  At VOX, this week Mig really wanted me to perform, but I wanted to wait until I had seen the layout/structure of the competition.  Weird, I know.  I certainly agree with Jerry, I’d rather be in the casket! 

In class we talked about the 6 Ps, I found them extremely helpful and shared them with my speech class. As for my own performance, I practiced extensively in front of my classes (both Public Speaking and Interpersonal Communication, who got the pleasure of critiquing ME), and my family.  I bet they can all sing the canoe song.  Then I practiced in a tape recorded to not only check my timing (which was more like 8 minutes) also to work out any kinks.  Revise, revise, revise…I visualized my kayaking experience and success at telling the story.  And even tried stretching and walking across the street before my presentation.  I took a deep long breath prior to beginning and away I went!  Once I got started I was good, except for a little cotton mouth. I think the hardest P was the paradigm shift, as I still knew that I was performing, not simply sharing one of my unusual tales to my class or family.  I wanted to make sure I didn’t leave out details, which I did; nevertheless, I did survive. 

Funny, although I get nervous, I love storytelling, performing and the idea of learning through personal stories. As long as I am not “thinking” about proving myself, nor being perfect, and concentrating on the paradigm shift, I will conquer!

With A Happy Heart,

Cynde

Fools for Love

For Valentine’s Day, I took my mother and mother-in-law to see Dolores Hydock at the Willow Theatre.  Hydock gave us a host of fascinating imagery of the reign of George IV and his lavish parties and secret life with Maria Fitzherbert.  Hydock shared her “Fools for Love” story and insight into the art of Georgian miniatures, paintings of eyes, mouths, and “other” parts. I found Hydock’s story structure and organization very compelling and was able to see the similarities with Lebov and Waletzy story structure.  As Hydock entered the theatre she was chanting (or calling out) 1700s British “cheapside” phrases to grab the attention of the audience pulling them into creating the atmosphere for her story.  Lebov and Waletzy might consider this Hydock’s abstract leading to her orientation.  As she stepped onto the stage, she immediately began tying her abstract into her first set of characters, the Cockney or British “cheapside” people with George IV, and how one day per year the peasants were allowed into George IV’s home.  Hydock weaved story after story, each following the four traditional components in a story: orientation, conflicting action, evaluation and resolution, some had abstracts and codas and others did not.  Overall, it was a fascinating and informative evening that every aspiring storyteller should attend.  Hydock is a true artist that I felt honored to have heard and look forward to writing a Rhet Crit review on her show.

Later in the week, in my Rhet Crit class we spoke about visual rhetoric. The Lover’s Eye miniatures remind me of the purpose an image.  The miniatures portray the gaze of the lover, The rhetorical purpose of the gaze in the 1700s (and today) helps us remember people important to us, and anything intimate in nature, making the making the holder of the keepsake an exclusive beholder and in return create a reciprocal gaze from far.  It would be an interesting research project to look at the visual rhetoric of the Georgian miniatures.  It was fascinating and out of the ordinary how Hydock’s story tied into teaching/learning about  storytelling and visual rhetoric.

Make It A Great Day!

Cynde

L&W

As I sat in church on Sunday, somewhere I haven’t been in a while.  I realized that the sermon is a story, not only in the biblical sense, but in structure. Last week in class we talked about two researchers, Labov and Walesky and how they breakdown the narrative structure of an oral story.  I am sure that the priest would have preferred me to be listening to the content to his sermon on light and salt; however, my mind continued to wonder to class.  The priest began his story with orienting the parish with lighthouses being a beacon or light that people follow.  He spoke about his small village in Ireland where the only electrical power was in the lighthouse.  This light guided everyone in darkness.  Next he paralleled the lighthouse to our lives, basically providing the “ok, so what?”  for us.  And finally I saw how he tied everything back together revealing that lighthouses are within each of us, and we can either provide the light or walk in darkness.  As I think back to class, I am not certain I would call the biblical passages either the abstract or the coda, but one could loosely say that the priest used them as such. 

It is interesting to me is to see that stories, and storytelling IS everywhere.  Furthermore, Labov and Walesky’s structure provides a great approach to breaking down the components of any narrative form playing a central role in communication, especially interpersonal communication. 

Fonda on Fonda

 

Spending a few days under the weather allowed me to catch a few documentaries that I might never have had the chance to see.  One such documentary was “Fonda on Fonda” where Jane, Peter, and Shirlee Fonda along with many other celebrities talk about the late, Henry Fonda.  As one of my favorite acting families, I never knew that Henry Fonda was an illustrator and storyteller.  Apparently, when he was stationed in the Navy, he would write and draw stories to Peter and Jane when they were little.  It was his way of staying connected across the miles. Fonda created an ongoing fairytale about a fish called Wilbur that he would write about sharing stories of the Navy and being at sea. 

What amazed me the most about Fonda being a storyteller is that he has always been considered (at least by his children) as someone that feared spontaneity and real emotions, especially after his first wife committed suicide. This led me to think about storytellers lacking pathos in real life?  Is storytelling simply a performance? I tend to think, no. Storytelling is about revealing true emotions and heartfelt thought.  Perhaps Fonda expressed in his writings things he could not express orally; many artists cannot express their true identity, so they turn to their art. 

This is one clear distinction between oral storytelling and stories.  It is the storyteller that brings the action alive causing the “ audience affect.”. Affect is the energy that pushes people toward pleasures and fascinations, as each of us perceives differently, remembers differently, and takes our own journeys.  According to Aristotle, an audience attends to things which affect them, and if they are not attentive, then the subject means nothing to them personally. Concerned more with energy or various combined energies, affect actualizes how people interact.  These energies are not necessarily controllable, giving people that ability to connect to things, people, ideas, sensations, ambitions, relations, and a number of other internal desires.

With A Happy Heart,

Cynde

My Big Fish Tale

This week I decided to watch one of the suggested movies on the syllabus, Big Fish, a tale about a strained relationship between a father and son. The story entails a father who tells his life story as an epic tale to his son.  At first the son enjoys the stories; however, as the son grows older, he begins to question the authenticity of each story.  Only during the most intimate moment, the son becomes satisfied that he finally connected with his father and is astonished when he  personally meets the characters of his father’s stories. Overall, Big Fish demonstrates that storytelling is a passion, passed from generation to generation.

Passing down stories from generation to generation best expresses how storytelling connects us.  As we talked on the first day of class, storytelling is about connecting.  Big Fish, not only told a story about a storyteller, but also how stories connect us to one another. Personally, I connected with Big Fish as the main character, Edward Bloom reminded me of my father.  Not only the parallel of my father dying, but the fact that my father liked to tell “tall tales” connected me to the story.  I have numerous stories that remind me how much Dad had his own fairytales: beauty queen judging, monster bashes, and farm life.  One  of the last stories I remember is when shortly after having surgery to remove a cancerous tumor, my dad told several of the neighborhood kids that a shark bit him and that he had to battle the shark for his life.  Cancer was that shark.  A couple of years ago, my mother ran into his oncologists who clearly remembered Dad as “the jokester that tried to fool death.” 

After nearly 35 years, I still miss my Dad.  However, I still feel connected to him every time I share one of his tales.  Thanks, Big Fish for connecting us again. 

With A Happy Heart,

Cynde

NPR - Public Storyteller

            After class last week I listened to radio broadcasts a little differently, perhaps due to a “metacognitive state of mind”.  What I realized is that DJ’s are “spinners” of tales and storytellers.  I have always wondered if I missed my calling by not pursuing my first “degree” choice as a freshman in college, Radio Broadcasting.  At the time, I felt that I only had the personality, not the “voice”.  In all honesty, it was a field still dominated by males. In retrospect, I think I would have enjoyed the field, especially a public radio format, not the usual DJ format. 

           One thought lead to another, and as usual I got to thinking about public radio and its future.  With declining ratings and competition from satellite radio and other audio formats, could it be eliminated?  Can it stand out as both an entertainment and information source that comes without direct cost to listeners? I did a little research and found that most industry insiders and observers seem to agree that radio has lost some ground with listeners and needs to make adjustments. First and foremost, broadcast radio should remove the homogenized broadcasts of the 20^th Century.  Gone are the days of male DJ domination with formatting that competes with like minded stations!!!  I guess I still might have a slim opportunity to host a show???
           In the age of subscriber-based media, satellite radio and mobile technology have guided the radio industry by allowing listeners to customize radio to their individual tastes. Like public radio, satellite and mobile technology are commercial free, a huge plus for many weary of the ad-saturated media.  In contrast to public radio, both formats utilize a fee to listeners.  One of our cars has satellite radio as my husband is a huge fan of Howard Stern and loves his “XM Sirius” radio format. He often listens to the show more than the music stations while working and travelling from job site to job site. I enjoy the commercial free music channels.  NPR has joined the ranks of Sirius; nonetheless, the local broadcasted programming remains - local. 
           Again, I this makes me think about what could be done to circumvent this? I suggest podcasting regional programming to promote the progress of local shows such as The Public Storyteller in gaining more listeners and a wider reach. By using the archives as automatic feeds via the Internet, Florida Storytellers could be heard around the world.  This would be a valuable addition to the show and enable all those that missed the broadcast the opportunity to listen via their mobile devices. 
         Check it out my favorite podcast...

With a Happy Heart,

Cynde

 

Postcrossing: Storytelling Across The Miles

             I usually write/upload my art/thoughts on Tumblr; however, due to a class assignment to keep a journal I've decided to write my "stories" here.

            Having not written in free thought for quite some time, this is more challenging than I anticipated.  I have gotten used to academic writing with all of its formality. I use a reflection blog for all my classes I teach, and after this week I can understand some of my students anguish in tying in the lesson of the week with their daily life. Several concepts came to mind this week, and only one stood out.  I have recently joined a new project called Postcrossing.  The main goal of the project is to exchange postcards with people all over the world.   Their mission is to “connect people across the world through postcards, independent of their location, age, gender, race or beliefs” (postcrossing.com).  I loved the idea mostly due to postcards consisting of three things I love (a) visual rhetoric, photography or art; (b) the idea of participating in a shared memory (story) with another person, and: (c) a collectible item to pack away for others to find at an antique mall 50 years from now.

            Clearly with the all the electronic means of communication, pen, paper and postcards have vanished.   Most snail mail (aka letters and postcards, not bills) tells a story and evokes a connection to friends and family. They also share a slice of history that can educate you on national identity.  Postcards are the perfect way to get educated on places you may never visit in person and provide deeper, more emotional connection with people around the world. Yes, electronic messages and  text are certainly an enjoyable way to reconnect and communicate on a daily basis, but the suspense and anticipation of receiving a letter in the email goes missing. How many of us “print out a love letter” to store in an old shoebox to reread for nostalgia? I would guess, very few.

            As humans, or homo narrans, we communicate instinctually, craving the interpersonal connections of sharing, discussing and sending our deepest feelings and thoughts to one another. The intimate bilateral communication between two letter writers is so much more than communication.  It is a story.  With the touch of the paper, the feeling of seeing it in the mailbox, and the running across it years later creates a visceral connection that an email, tweet or post cannot.  Letters and postcards are personal stories, not a dying art.  While Tweets, FB and social media sites are more akin to speech with one clear message, letter writing parallels oral storytelling giving the reader a connection, kindling an emotion, and providing meaning between writers.

             Ironicially, Postcrossing is an online project; however, as a member you receive random “surprises”in the mailbox, the joy of finding the right postcard, and the ability to a tale to someone in a far away land. Check it out, postcrossings.com.

 

Post script: My first sent postcard was received today!!!

 

 

 

With A Happy Heart,

 

Cynde

 

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