Some of my fondest memories are of my grandmother and me sitting on the porch in rocking chairs or under a pecan tree shelling peas/breaking green beans and being captivated by her stories. Hours would go by and it would seem like just minutes, as she would tell of adventures. There would be stories of her brothers searching the banks of the Buffalo River for the lost Spanish gold treasure. How my grandfather and her would travel the Ozark trails from the copper mines to the wood mills in covered wagons with three small kids. She would tell with great joy of how my grandfather started his preaching ministry and how they travel from the Ozark’s mountains to the Mississippi River valley to start new lives and plant churches. Oh how I love those stories. I have on occasion took my own children up along the Buffalo and relayed my own rounding versions of the tales. It seems I can’t drive down Arkansas Hwy 65, without sharing one story to my captive audience (whoever is riding with me at the moment).
A good storyteller will take you with them in the story through vocal and body gestures. In a way, is a form of acting…you in your mind’s eye by the author’s view, actually can visually picture the actual event. Although storytelling is a world art, it is best in the Smokey & Ozark’s mountains, with it’s own touch of southern mountain flavor. In the parks, Dollywood and Silver Dollar City, there is a lady in the homestead areas that will entertain you with a rousing tale.
You know.......I think I feel a story coming on......Anybody for a story?
I always enjoyed Mom’s stories of farm life in Minnesota and school in the little one room school house where her sister was her teacher and her friends that lived down the road.
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