My mom has always been all about stories. When I was little, she read and read to me: Winnie the Pooh, Ramona the Pest, the Book House books (which, heartbreakingly, were lost in a move.) She was, and is a teacher, and she made sure I became a reader.
But there was another gift she gave: she showed me that stories come from ordinary people–and that it is our birthright to create them. At night, she tucked me in by telling me stories of Cherrybrook, her childhood home in Westfield, Indiana, which, to me, was magical. Then she took a children’s writing class and began writing the stories down, along with the “Kathy-Mary” stories, about me and my best friend. And when I began to name my drawings and tell stories, she put my words on paper (“A Cookie Named Gaggy,” is still preserved somewhere.)
Now, we have come full-circle and, to my delight, Mom is taking my writing class. She thinks she’s creating Cherrybrook stories for herself, because they sing in her, but really she’s giving me one of the best gifts ever.
For whom do you want to be a storytelling example? To whom will you give your stories? What storyteller could use your affirmation even more than that new iPhone?
I would love to have you AND that person in one of my winter classes., where I get to do what Mom did for me. (And if you pick the one in Seattle, you can meet her!)
PS Make sure you hurry. The the first classes begin just after New Year and window for registration will close soon.