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Friday, May 28, 2021

A Ghost Story for Memorial Day

This weekend into Monday is the start of a return to what had been, pre-Covid, the "normal" of a holiday with a complex history.  Memorial Day was called "Decoration Day" by my mother, even though that name began to disappear after World I.  (She surely heard it from the adults around her.)  Much of our nation's movement to a Memorial Day for putting flowers and flags on the graves of our military dead began after our Civil War, but even after the War of 1812 the Wikipedia link includes footnote 9 about:

In 1817, for example, a writer in the Analectic Magazine of Philadelphia urged the decoration of patriot's graves. E.J., "The Soldier's Grave," in The Analectic Magazine (1817), Vol. 10, 264.

Personally I consider such memorializing likely happened throughout history.  The tendency however to make it the unofficial start of summer, complete with the Indianapolis 500 race, sales, and other "revelry" was complained about as early as 1913 by an elderly veteran of the Civil War, saying young people had a "tendency ... to forget the purpose of Memorial Day and make it a day for games, races, and revelry, instead of a day of memory and tears".   When it was one of three holidays changed to three-day weekends (along with Washington's Birthday and Labor Day) it proved the old soldier correct.  Here in the nearby village there would normally be a parade, time with speeches at the main cemetery, and assorted other events that have once again been canceled even as some places are trying it once again.

Last week I mentioned the start of research on a woman named Sarah Matthews Reed Osborn Benjamin, sometimes called "the heroine of Yorktown." In the process I began to realize how many names I was running into from her final home in Pennsylvania were familiar here.  Yes, many settled here in what was still the "Northwest Territory", but it was much more than that.

18th century print by Trumbull & Forest
Again and again the name of "Mad" Anthony Wayne popped up.  He was mainly a Pennsylvanian, so why do so many places in this area have his name?  (Yes, and what's this about a ghost?)  

Mention of there being a ghost of Wayne sent me prowling up and down through what felt at times like the dustiest of Wikipedia articles related to Wayne and the Great Lakes region.  Links abound for your prowling as much as you like.  Some of it provides background for his story.  When you get into the life of a general, some of it depends on your own level of interest.  

Be sure catch his story at both the beginning and as he nears his end (pictures appear there).

Before the Revolution Wayne worked at his father's tannery and trained as a surveyor, at times doing both, until involved in the war.  Wikipedia states "his military exploits and fiery personality quickly earned him promotion to brigadier general and the nickname 'Mad Anthony'."  Less favorably some 21st century historians claim it was "due to his angry temperament, specifically during an incident when he severely punished a skilled informant for being drunk." 

After his extensive service, including Yorktown, by war's end he "was promoted to Major General in 1783 but retired from the Continental Army soon after."  This doesn't mean every battle went successfully.  The 1777 Battle of Paoli went so badly an official inquiry ruled "Wayne was not guilty of misconduct but that he had made a tactical error."  If you think Wayne's military service earned him the title of "Mad", this so infuriated him that he insisted on a complete Court Martial.  It ended by unanimously declaring he acted with honor.  His troops made "Remember Paoli" a rallying cry for the battles of Germantown and Stony Point.  Stony Point vindicated Wayne, showing he also learned from the defeat by using the same fast bold nighttime bayonet attack the British used in Paoli.  Washington even gave him the unusual permission to modify the plan as needed.  The 30 minute successful attack was a huge morale booster for the Continental Army.  Prior to it they had undergone a series of military defeats.  It also earned him a Continental Congress victory medal.

After the war he served a year in the Pennsylvania legislature, then left his wife, Mary, and two children in Paoli, Pennsylvania, to move to land in Georgia granted him for his military service.  These were two rice plantations whose running he left to slaves.  If today's rumor media had been around then, it would have had a field day.  During the war he supposedly found time for romance with various women, including a wealthy woman, Mary Vining, in Delaware.  Living without his family in Georgia, Wayne supposedly had a relationship with Catherine Greene, wife of his friend and fellow General, Nathanael Greene.  Greene also was awarded a plantation, Mulberry Grove, outside Savannah.  Their former  friendship was understandably strained.  Greene, however, like Wayne, had no ability to run his plantation.  Before the Revolution Greene had spoken out against slavery, but resorted to slaves running it.  Both men made such poor business decisions it ran them into deep debt.  Greene died and was buried at Mulberry Grove, leaving his estate the unsuccessful fight to save it.  The evaluation of history militarily ranks Greene as second only to Washington.

As if all of that bit of scandal wasn't enough to tarnish Wayne's reputation, politically he changed his initial support of a democracy, instead he later favored the Federalist Party's strong central government ruled by what he called the "aristocratick."  His political efforts gave him a year representing Georgia and voting to ratify the U.S. constitution before it was found his election was fraudulent on the grounds of residency.

In the midst of all this personal and political scandal, President Washington turned to Wayne to command the Legion of the United States, the reorganized Continental Army fighting the Northwest Indian War.  The Revolution supposedly ended with the Treaty of Paris (1783) making the Great Lakes the divider between British and U.S. territory.  British forts, however, were not evacuated as agreed.  British agents further encouraged the Native American confederacy dating back to the French and Indian War of 1754–1763, which had British colonials fighting French colonials for North America and each side having Native American allies.  After the American Revolution the Northwest Territory (made from a bit of western Pennsylvania, all of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, and the northeastern part of Minnesota), while supposedly part of the new nation was also Native American land.  The Treaty of Paris hadn't included them, so British treaties with their native allies weren't recognized.  The Northwest Territory was opened to settlement, but prohibiting slavery.  This ignored any Native American claims and so the stage for the Northwest Indian War was set.

The names of Pontiac and Tecumseh are familiar in this part of Michigan and bookend the Northwest Indian War with Pontiac's War as a 1763 loose confederation of Native American nations against the British control of the Great Lakes area following the French and Indian War.  Originally the end of Pontiac's War was considered a Native American failure, but more recently is viewed as a military stalemate which by treaty recognized "indigenous people had certain rights to the lands they occupied."  The problem with that has been stated by modern historian Daniel K. Richter as " the war saw the emergence of the novel idea that all Native people were 'Indians,' that all Euro-Americans were 'Whites,' and that all on one side must unite to destroy the other."  Even to this day some debate calls the war anything with Pontiac's name an exaggeration because his involvement was only part of it.  Whether that is correct or not, it looked to further multi-tribal opposition to European colonization.  That attempt at loose confederation stayed in the region with Tecumseh, who took part in the Battle of Fallen Timbers, but didn't participate in the Treaty of Greenville. Tecumseh's fighting went all the way to the War of 1812, with his reputation becoming admired even by those who fought him and lasting far beyond his death.

But what about Anthony Wayne?

Wayne built or rebuilt ten forts in Ohio Country in his campaign from 1792-1795, but there were considerably more.  There were a large number of forts and settlements from 1778-1803 taking the area from Cahokia, Illinois in 1778 to Xenia, Ohio in 1803.  To show how things were changing quickly, Tecumseh was said to have been born in Xenia in the 1760s when it was Shawnee homeland.  By 1803 Ohio was admitted to the Union.  (Don't get me started on talk about how the "Buckeyes" worked against Michigan statehood and the Toledo War!)  Wayne not only saw to fort construction, but the war came to an official end with the Battle of  Fallen Timbers, just outside present-day Toledo.  The many times I've traveled the Anthony Wayne Trail -- usually en route to or from the Toledo Zoo -- I never thought about the battle even though I had heard of the name.  Now I would want to stop at the Fallen Timbers battlefield park.

https://www.nps.gov/places/fallen-timbers-battlefield-and-fort-miamis-national-historic-site.htm

Prior to the battle and afterwards for fifty miles around it Wayne ordered the destruction of Native American villages and crops.  

One of Anthony Wayne's officers may have painted the treaty negotiations, c. 1795.
 

This led to the Treaty of Greenville, defining treaty lines for Native territories and payment, including some as annual federal grants.  

This was criticized then and continues today.  Tecumseh led opposition to U.S. expansion onto Native lands.  He stated it gave away land the chiefs who signed didn't own.

Further criticism continuing into the present says the annuities started government influence in tribal affairs.  It is also blamed for the first wave of Indian removal and ultimately genocide.

For his part, after the hard winter for the Indians, Wayne's negotiation gave most of Ohio to the U.S. while he promised the land of "Indiana", the remaining land to the west, to remain Indian forever.  Did he believe that?  Unfortunately Native American history is full of grants supposedly lasting forever.

There's a certain irony that former surveyor, Anthony Wayne, led to major surveying.

Fort Recovery sign photographed by Dana60Cummins








What was then "Wayne County" was carved out of portions of Hamilton County (now Ohio) and unorganized land, with its seat at Detroit, which had been evacuated by the British five weeks previously. Wayne County originally covered all of Michigan's Lower Peninsula, northwestern Ohio, northern Indiana and a small portion of the present Lake Michigan shoreline, including the site of present-day Chicago.

A year later, after the creation of Wayne County (August 15, 1796)  Wayne started back to Pennsylvania.  He got as far as Erie, Pennsylvania, which, of course, had a long history with the Iroquois Confederation, especially the Seneca.  The fort area known as Fort Presque Isle dates back to a French fort during the French and Indian War, later burned by the French.  The British then built a Fort Presque Isle later captured by Pontiac's Rebellion.  By 1795 yet a third with the same name was built, a blockhouse, but it was under U.S.  control.. 

RoadsideAmerica.com  posted a visit to the reconstructed blockhouse where Wayne died.

<http://www.fortwiki.com/Fort_Presque_Isle_(2)>

After all the action of two wars, including being wounded twice, Wayne's death seems almost trivial.  Heading home he fell ill with what was probably complications from gout and died in a chair.  It was his dying wish to be buried there and he was.  

Photo of St. David's ca. 1907
That should have been the end of it, but 13 years later his family asked to have his bones dug up and transported to the family burial plot 400 miles away in Radnor, Pennsylvania at St. David's Episcopal Church in the Newton Township portion of the graveyard.  His son, Colonel Isaac Wayne, went to collect the bones only to find his father's body hadn't decomposed enough.  It's a bit ironic that Anthony had spent his early years as a tanner with his own father, but now the only way to bring his bones back to the home he had left so long ago he needed to be boiled!  The flesh that remained was again buried at the fort, while Isaac stuffed the bones into his luggage onto a cart.  They kept falling off and later at the Old St. David Church Cemetery it was discovered that not all were there.  It was decided not to travel the road back looking for them. 

The blog, Ghosts of Delaware County, in an article from September 13, 2010 says that the ghost of Anthony Wayne 

every year on General Wayne's Birthday which also happens to be New Year's Day, he rises from his grave and can be seen riding across the state of Pennsylvania back to his original grave in search of his bones. 

I don't know if you'll ever see his ghost, but I'm fairly sure you'll see he's the only one on the FindAGrave.com site to have two graves.

General Anthony Wayne's second grave site in Radnor, PA

While my blog is covered by copyright, I trust you will feel free to re-tell as much of this ghost story as works for you.  Historians tend to like the details, while an audience probably likes the grisly boiling of the bones and "Mad" Anthony Wayne's hunt for his bones.  It's enough to make any ghost Mad.

Friday, May 21, 2021

Something Old and Something New

Usually the phrase "Something old and something new" is part of the planning for a wedding, but not today.  I'm excited to announce two things fitting that phrase.

My website has been around it seems like forever!  I created it back when I was still on Earthlink email.  (Remember back to that email?)  They let me create a website using simple tools and start there with my posting it.  Loved the look of it and over the years maintained it with a website builder.  Google has begun to penalize websites unable to re-size to cell phones.  It's called a "responsive site."  (I'm interested in how many read this blog on a cell phone & the difficulty of viewing it.  I know it works on templates, but am uncertain the blog needs a complete redesign after ten and a half years which might create problems with the archive.)  My website is probably mainly accessed from a desktop considering the venues hiring me, but I didn't want it being downgraded by Google Search.  

I've long believed in being able to maintain my own website, but this was definitely beyond me.  Looking around I was fortunate enough to discover a very talented web designer, Rick Dery.  He has a large number of website clients, but doubt he had worked before with performers, certainly not a storyteller.  He took my old site information and a great many photos of me in my work and Ta DAAAA, https://www.lois-sez.com/ is fresh and new.  (If you still see those old blue tiles framing pages, refresh your browser to see the new version of the site.)  My work is quite varied, but a lot of those photos show my historical storytelling work or my work with puppets.  While I do a lot in schools and libraries, there's a problem showing young audiences (although one program at a school in the Dominican Republic was able to be used).  No website is ever finished.  At least annually I need to revise it, but now I'll have Rick do it.  (YES, I definitely recommend him.)

My other "Something old and something new" has me looking ahead to the U.S. Revolutionary War.  What's that, you say that's behind?  Yes, and yet America 250 is coming, bringing renewed attention to the period in 2026, the 250th anniversary.  I found a delightful woman, Sarah Matthews Reed Osborn Benjamin, who received a pension for her work during the war.  Her first husband, William Reed, died in the war.  Her second husband joined up without telling her and then insisted she travel with his military unit, cooking, sewing, and washing.  Along the way she twice talked with General Washington, first at Knightsbridge where she was standing guard wearing her husband's heavy overcoat and bearing his gun.  Later he talked with her at the Battle of Yorktown, where she additionally witnessed the crying surrender of a "portly" British general.  It wasn't Cornwallis as she saw him, too, and said he had a diminutive appearance and crossed eyes.  She also had a brief third marriage to John Benjamin before again being widowed.  There's much more, of course, to her story and I'm getting more and more excited as I gather as much information as possible from here in faraway Michigan (frontier territory she never saw) roughly 250 years later.  She lived long enough that a photo was taken of her  at well over 100 years old.

With her many last names, I have already named the program, "They called me Sarah."

I can picture keeping her story alive whenever a group looks at the Revolutionary War, but also she's a woman deserving of attention in Women's History Month.  I plan to keep her alive with the style she showed all of her years.  Her obituary article mentions how she would "relate the events of her early days with all the vivacity of youth."  Can you see why she's exciting this storyteller and I feel at home with her?


 









*****************

This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain."  The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated.  I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century.  My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them.  I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.  



At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.
Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-
  • There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection.  I have long recommended it and continue to do so.  He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
  • You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories.  There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.

    Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"
The email list for storytellers, Storytell, discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional suggestions:            
         - David K. Brown - http://people.ucalgary.ca/~dkbrown/stories.html
         - Richard Martin - http://www.tellatale.eu/tales_page.html
         - Spirit of Trees - http://spiritoftrees.org/featured-folktales
         - Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ .  It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016  and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
       - World of Tales - http://www.worldoftales.com/ 
           - Zalka Csenge Virag - http://multicoloreddiary.blogspot.com doesn't give the actual stories, but her recommendations, working her way through each country on a continent, give excellent ideas for finding new books and stories to love and tell.
     
You're going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT go to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine to find some of these old links.  Tim's site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a full-time job.  In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she could no longer maintain it.  Possibly searches maintained it.  Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library (something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine.  It took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally in December of 2006 it appears!
    Somebody as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.  I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that becomes the only way to find them.
You can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun discovering even more stories!

Friday, May 14, 2021

Saintine/Skinner - Picciola - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

 Last week I mentioned "my recent acquisition by the Skinner sisters, Ada M. and Eleanor L., The Emerald Story Book; Stories and Legends of Spring, Nature and Easter."  Today's story, of all the many tales and poems in that book, has haunted me.  I'm not alone for even today the novel, Picciola, by French novelist and playwright, X.B. Saintine, from 1836 continues to fascinate readers on Goodreads

But that is a full-length novel and is neither suited to storytelling nor this blog.  Ada Skinner distilled the story to its essence for the "Spring Stories and Legends" section of The Emerald Story Book.  I've not read the novel, so I can only react to her adaptation.  It's simple matching the novel's introduction of "Here are no stirring incidents, no thrilling love tale. And yet there is love in what I am about to relate; but it is only the love of a man for...Shall I tell you? No, read and you will learn". 

There are no illustrations except the ones in your mind, but I will set the mood with this Photo by monkeyoutside on Unsplash

PICCIOLA

Adapted from St. Saintine

Many years ago a good man, who lived in France, was thrown into prison because the King suspected him of having plotted against the government.

Within four grey stone walls, with only one small window through which the little stream of sunshine came, the poor man was kept captive for months and years. He was not allowed to speak to a living soul except his jailer who at best was but a cross old fellow. He had no work to do. There were no books to read, and his only source of amusement during many long tedious hours was drawing pictures with a bit of charcoal on the bare stone walls of his prison cell.

Fortunately, however, the poor captive was permitted to leave his cell for one hour each morning and go up a narrow winding stairway which led him into a small courtyard on all sides of which rose high, strong prison walls. There was no roof overhead. Here the prisoner could breathe the fresh air and feel the warm sun and by looking up he could see a bit of the blue sky above.

Day after day the prison life went on in the same round without any change or hope of change. The bitterness and loneliness of the poor man’s lot grew upon him as months and years passed without a word from his family or friends and without hope of ever seeing one of them again. And by and by a time came when he could no longer even find amusement in sketching upon the walls of his cell, for not one vacant spot was left in all that space where he could draw a picture. He was a very unhappy man indeed, and it is hard to say how it might have ended. But one day a new interest came into his life—an interest which changed the poor fellow from an unhappy bitter man who had come to hate everybody and everything, into one who forgot all wrong and who learned to see only the good and the beautiful in all around him. And this interest came about through the growing up of a tiny stray seed which had been blown into the courtyard by the wind and had taken root between two of the great stones with which the courtyard was paved.

It happened that one day as the prisoner was taking his daily walk his eyes caught sight of the bright green of the little seedling just in time to save it from being crushed beneath his foot. He stopped and looked closer. Then he saw how a little plant had sent down its rootlets into the crevice between the stones and had struggled to push its head up where its green leaves might catch what they could of the scant sunshine. He thought how wonderful it was that the little seed had found courage to take root and struggle for life in the dark and gloomy courtyard of the prison. “Brave little plant,” he said. “You deserve to live. I shall watch over you and guard you, for the wind and the hail are hard enemies.”

Day by day he noticed how bravely it grew higher and higher and unfolded one leaf after another to the dull sunshine. He became more and more interested in the little nursling which in time was like a dear friend and companion to him. He called it Picciola, which means, “little one,” and before many days had passed, it had taken root and grown in his own heart so that there was no longer room for bitterness or memory of any wrongs.

At one time when a great hailstorm sent its cruel hail into the courtyard, the prisoner bent over Picciola to protect it and the driving hailstones fell upon his own head until the storm was over.

“My poor little Picciola,” he said, “I shall not always be here to guard you from harm. Much can happen to my little plant when I am in my cell. I will build a little fence around you, then the wind cannot blow you down nor the hail cut you with sharp stones.”

The cross jailer, too, took an interest in Picciola when he saw how happy the prisoner had become and he was glad to help take care of the little plant. Somehow, the jailer did not seem to be such a cross fellow as before; indeed he seemed to be quite a gentle and kind hearted man.

Now the prisoner was very happy and the days were no longer weary and without interest for Picciola was always waiting for him in the courtyard and he was sure to see something new about the little plant each morning he visited it. And Picciola grew and grew and in time put forth two beautiful blossoms and sent perfume to make glad the heart of her friend.

But one morning alas! when the prisoner went to look at Picciola he found that, in spite of all his care, she had begun to droop and wither. What could be the matter? In a moment he was on the ground examining the little plant to find out what was causing all the trouble. He soon discovered that Picciola had grown so large that there was no longer room enough for it to grow in the crevice between the stones. The sharp edges of the stones cut into the delicate stem and the poor prisoner could see that his little companion would die unless the stones could be lifted.

He was in great distress. He tried with all the strength he had to lift the stones himself; but he could not move them. He begged the jailer to help him.

“I can do nothing for you,” said the jailer. “You must ask the King; he alone has the power to say that the stones should be lifted.”

“But the King is far away,” said the prisoner. “There is but one way to reach him—I must write.”

The poor fellow in despair sent a letter to the King begging him to save the life of his little friend, Picciola. The letter was written on a white handkerchief with a bit of charcoal. He begged the King, not for his own freedom and life, but for the life of Picciola. As soon as the King finished reading the prisoner’s letter he said:

“This man is not really wicked at heart or he could not care so much for a little plant. The stones shall be raised that the little plant may live, and I will pardon this prisoner because of his great love and sacrifice for so helpless a thing as Picciola.” So the prisoner was released and when he left his lonely prison cell he took Picciola with him, for she had been the beginning for him of a new happiness.


Photo by Valentin Salja on Unsplash


Initially trying to find more about this story, Skinner led us astray by claiming it was originally by "St. Saintine."  A typo?  Wikipedia gives us the basics on X.B. Saintine, hinting at the popularity of the novel, but while they mention it being "translated into many European languages", Project Gutenberg only offers it in the original French.  Google Books has a free eBook also in French, but with the mainly English introduction by A.C. Clapin telling us of the book's popularity not only in winning the highest award by the French Academy, but :

Picciola was a great literary success.  Music, painting, the stage, even fashion, in all its frivolities, borrowed in turn from the Author of Picciola either the sentiment or the title of his book.  There was a time when the flower of the Fenestrelle prisoner blossomed everywhere; on the piano as a musical reverie; on the easel as a painting; those who in the evening saw Picciola on the stage, might have contemplated, in the morning, Picciola, a real living flower at a flower show.

Can you think of any modern novel that is a similar sensation everywhere?

The introduction goes on to say "Saintine was not dazzled by the great renown of his book."  This is further shown by its sparking a letter (unfortunately given only in French) in 1843 by Napoleon III telling of it bringing comfort in his own imprisonment.  Saintine sent a copy of the book to him and received back a blossom of the Heliotrope the prisoner cultivated on the terrace of his prison.

As the French might sigh, "Alas!" it takes some prowling to find the book in English.  Archive.org will let you read an English translation online.  There are several, but skip the first one as it's the version offered by Google I mentioned earlier and is mainly in French.  Beyond that there are several translations, including ones with illustrations.

(You even can find at Archive.org a pair of those "musical reveries.")

For myself, I find Skinner's adaptation sufficient, but, as I said earlier, haunting.

*****************

This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain."  The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated.  I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century.  My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them.  I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.  



At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.
Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-
  • There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection.  I have long recommended it and continue to do so.  He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
  • You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories.  There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.

    Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"
The email list for storytellers, Storytell, discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional suggestions:            
         - David K. Brown - http://people.ucalgary.ca/~dkbrown/stories.html
         - Richard Martin - http://www.tellatale.eu/tales_page.html
         - Spirit of Trees - http://spiritoftrees.org/featured-folktales
         - Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ .  It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016  and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
       - World of Tales - http://www.worldoftales.com/ 
           - Zalka Csenge Virag - http://multicoloreddiary.blogspot.com doesn't give the actual stories, but her recommendations, working her way through each country on a continent, give excellent ideas for finding new books and stories to love and tell.
     
You're going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT go to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine to find some of these old links.  Tim's site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a full-time job.  In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she could no longer maintain it.  Possibly searches maintained it.  Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library (something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine.  It took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally in December of 2006 it appears!
    Somebody as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.  I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that becomes the only way to find them.
You can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun discovering even more stories!

Friday, May 7, 2021

Stocking - How the Bluebird Was Chosen Herald - Keeping the Public in Public Domain

It's Mother's Day on Sunday.  Rather than a story about mothers, I want to honor something I remember my mother doing with me when I was quite little, probably my earliest memory.  She would take me on walks identifying plants and birds.  It's given me a lifelong interest in "What's that?!?"

Here back in 2017, a book she read me called When the Root Children Wake Up was mentioned in relation to plant identification.  In 2017 it was 111 years old and is still being published.  There now are two different versions with either the original or new illustrations.  Right now is a perfect time to contact your nearby park naturalist as wildflower walks are happening seemingly everywhere!  

Something else I'm noticing lately is how walking anywhere outside in the daytime is accompanied by bird song.  Songbirds migrate and they are clearly back.  Mom not only had bird identification books, but eventually added tapes to help her identify them by their song.  

I confess I'm nowhere near as good at identifying them by either song or sight, but I keep trying. 

Oakland County blog "Homes for Bluebirds on the Polly Ann Trail"
 Today's story has birds commonly seen, except, possibly, the Bluebird of the title.  Hiking local county parks reveals volunteer-maintained bluebird houses.  I've thought of adding one to my own yard since they're good at catching mosquitoes.  It also might give me opportunity to see more than just a flash of its too rarely seen blue body.  Even as it flies past, if it wasn't for that bit of blue, you might mistake it for a robin with its similarly colored chest.  

Today's story's varied birds each have definite personalities matching the birds in real life.  It makes telling the story fun to bring each to life.  The story has a frame of a boy talking to the "Wise-and-Wonder-Man."  Like most literary frames introducing and closing a story, it's often best to remove it for storytelling.  I'm going to do that here, but include a parting comment that ends the story.  In between I will insert a photo of the bird as it is mentioned.  In telling the story it helps to have that bit of a visual, especially for young listeners.  If the children are familiar with birds, you can first show the picture to see if they know what it is.  You can even have a bit of Readers Theater, having children assigned a specific bird.  They can go from the easiest participation by just holding up their bird whenever it's mentioned up through fullest involvement reading that bird's part if they can manage it.

For additional audience participation, the brief verse about the herald is easily learned or read.  Check if the word "herald" is unfamiliar.  You might get an answer about the name, Harold!  Children can enjoy the idea of Spring being like a king with a bird, as herald, announcing his arrival.

All birds photos were found on Unsplash.com, an excellent source for photos available to download.  To help shorten captions, I removed that from their captions, only giving photographer credit.  The Unsplash site is an online way to publicize photographer work and, hopefully, find even more work.

At the story's end I'll say a little more about the author and where I found it.  In storytelling I would not give the title as it reveals more than it should, although eventually it's obvious how the story should end to be satisfactory.

HOW THE BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD

Jay T. Stocking

“You know there are four spirits of the year, Springtime, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Some folks call them seasons, but they are really spirits. Of all four spirits, Springtime is the favourite. He had been coming to the earth every year for a great many years, year after year, when he got it into his head that it would be a fine thing and quite becoming to his dignity to have a herald,—some one to carry his colours and play the fife. At first he thought of the fragrant flowers, they could bear his colours. But he reflected that they could not play the fife. Then he thought of the buzzing bee; he might be taught to play the fife. But he remembered that he would not do, because he could not carry the colours. So he decided that he must have a bird.

“Springtime, being a very lively and practical spirit, called the birds together that very morning. He asked them all to meet him by the Great Rock under the Great Tree by the Great Bend of the Big River. They all came—birds of every size and colour and description. He sat on the Great Rock while the birds sat on the grass and listened with wide, round, blinking eyes and with heads cocked to one side.

“He made a speech to them of some length. He told them that he desired a herald to carry his colours and to play the fife. Of course, the bird to be chosen should be handsome and musical. But he must be more than all that. He wanted a bird of exceptionally good character, in fact, the very best bird that could be found. He did not expect to find a perfect bird, he said, but he desired a bird as nearly perfect as he could obtain. He concluded his speech by saying that his herald should be:

“‘Both handsome and happy, gifted and good,

And as modest as modest can be.

The very best bird that flies in the wood,

I would that my herald be he.’

The choice, he said, he would leave to the birds as they knew each other thoroughly.

“The birds put their heads together and talked in at least forty different languages. Finally, their spokesman told Springtime that they were content to leave the selection to a committee of six whom he might name. As Springtime wanted to be on good terms with all the birds, he thought it not best that he should appoint the committee. He pulled a handful of grass and held it tightly between his hands just so that the ends would stick out, and then he asked the birds to come up, one by one, and pull out a blade. The six who should draw out the shortest blades of grass were to be the committee.

“They walked up one by one, and drew. 

by Jesse van Vliet


Mr. Crow drew the shortest blade and so was the chairman. 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr. Parrot came next,

by Dušan veverkolog

then Mr. Blue Jay, 

by Aaron Doucett


 

 

 

 

Mr. Robin, 

by Gary Bendig

 

 

 

 

 

 Mr. English Sparrow, 

by Valentin Balan


and Mr. Bluebird. 

by Satyawan Narinedhat


 

 

 

 

 

It was a strange committee, to be sure, of all sizes and kinds of birds.

“That very evening the six birds met in a corner of Mr. Farmer’s orchard upon a dead branch of an old apple tree. They talked and talked and talked. They discussed all the birds that they knew, spoke of their good qualities and their bad ones.

“At last, as it grew late, very late, almost eight o’clock, and they had come to no conclusion, Mr. Bluebird proposed that they should vote, and all agreed. But how should they vote? That was the next question. Mr. Bluebird suggested that each one, as his name was called, should stand up and say which bird he thought was best fitted to be the herald. Mr. Crow cleared his throat and said that he did not think this was the wisest way. He thought it better, he continued, that each one should write the name of his choice on the under side of a leaf. The other members of the committee agreed with Mr. Crow. Each bird, therefore, took a leaf, and wrote a name upon it, and Mr. Bluebird counted the votes. There was one vote for Mr. Crow, one vote for Mr. Parrot, one for Mr. Blue Jay, one for Mr. Robin, one for Mr. English Sparrow, and one for—I don’t remember whether it was for Mr. Song Sparrow or Mr. Bobolink. Would you believe it?—every bird except the bluebird had voted for himself. The bluebird knew, because he knew the foot-writing of all the birds. He had seen it in the soft sand by the water.

“It was certain that they were not going to be able to decide among themselves who should be chosen, so Mr. Bluebird made another suggestion.

“‘I recommend,’ he said, ‘that we go and consult the old Wizard, Mr. Owl, who holds court every night by the light of the moon in the hollow of a great grey tree over the ridge. He is the wisest of birds and knows everything. I have heard, too, that whenever there is a star with a tail in the sky he can read your fortunes and your character. Now it so happens that at this very time there is in the sky a star with a tail, for I saw it this morning. Little Bluey, my eldest child, woke up very early and I had to fly out to get him a worm to keep him quiet. Just as I was starting, long before sunrise, I saw the comet. I propose that we go at once and consult the Wizard and let him decide for us who should be the herald.’

“‘It seems to me,’ said the crow, ‘that this is a most excellent suggestion. The Wizard is certainly a very wise bird. I have heard of him and doubtless he has heard of me. By all means, let us go.’

“It was decided then and there that they should go that very night, just as soon as the comet rose. Mr. Bluebird was to give the signal because he knew where to look for the comet.

“At the proper moment Mr. Bluebird shook them all by the wing and woke them up, and they started, Mr. Crow going first, then Mr. Parrot, Mr. Blue Jay, Mr. Robin, Mr. English Sparrow, and Mr. Bluebird.

“They flew and they flew and they flew, for it was a long way and a hard way to find, and not one of the six had ever been out so late in his life. When they reached the wood they were obliged to fly very carefully, so that they should not bump their heads against the trees, and so that they might be able to read the signs along the way. At length they spied a great grey tree, with a dimly lighted window in it, far up the trunk. Mr. Crow read the name on the door-plate and announced that they had reached the right house. There was no door-bell so Mr. Crow scratched three times,—scratch, scratch, scratch.

“‘Who-who?’ came from within.

“‘Friends,’ said the crow, ‘six friends come to consult the Wizard.’

“The latch was promptly lifted and the six birds walked solemnly in and up the stairs.

by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz

“They found themselves in a little dark round room with seats against the sides. Mr. Owl sat over on one side, his great fluffy coat turned up at the neck and his fluffy hood pulled down to meet it. He had his spectacles on and was reading by the light of his lamp,—that is, it looked like a lamp, but Mr. Owl explained later that it was not a lamp but the comet’s light which he caught through a knot-hole.

“The Wizard received them pleasantly and motioned to them to be seated. Mr. Crow sat down in front of the Wizard at his right, then the others in order, Mr. Bluebird sitting at the left.

“‘It is very late,’ observed the owl. ‘It must be most important business that brings you to me at this hour of the night.’

“‘It is,’ replied the crow, ‘exceedingly important business, indeed.’

“Then in plain and emphatic words he told the Wizard what their errand was. He repeated as nearly as he could the speech of Springtime, especially the last words:

“‘Both handsome and happy, gifted and good,

And as modest as modest can be.

The very best bird that flies in the wood,

I would that my herald be he.’

“He told the Wizard of their inability to decide who should be chosen and of their conclusion to leave the choice to him. This was the reason of their visit.

“Then the owl looked grave as a judge and remarked, ‘It seems to me in this situation that the first thing to be done is to secure the opinion of each of you as to who is the fittest bird to be chosen. Mr. Crow, will you be so good as to give us your opinion?’

“Mr. Crow stood up, cleared his throat, and said, ‘To speak quite frankly, it seems to me that I, myself, should be chosen. It is scarcely possible to find a better bird.’

“‘What makes you think so?’ asked the owl dryly.

“‘My wife,’ said the crow. ‘Only to-day Mrs. Crow said to me, “Mr. Crow, my dear husband, you are a perfect man, unless—”’

“‘Unless what?’ inquired the Wizard, raising his eyebrows.

“‘I don’t recollect,’ replied the crow, ‘in fact, I didn’t hear distinctly, but I am sure it was something unimportant,’ and he sat down.

“‘Mr. Parrot,’ said the Wizard, ‘your opinion, if you please.’

“‘It is my opinion,’ said Mr. Parrot, ‘that I am the bird who should be chosen. I have heard myself talk on many an occasion, and I am sure that I speak both wisdom and wit. In modesty, I forbear to say more.’

“‘Mr. Blue Jay!’ called the Wizard.

“‘Since you ask me, Mr. Wizard, for my honest opinion I am bound to say that I feel that I am the only bird for this position. I have been looking in the glass to-day; in fact, I see myself in the glass very often, and I have never yet observed a single fault in myself. There is no bird who can say more.’

“‘Mr. Robin, if you please.’

“Mr. Robin arose with his fingers in his armholes: ‘I am quite convinced, Mr. Wizard, from much observation, that I should be made the herald. I am handsome and gifted, if I do say it myself. Besides, I live in the best of society; I dwell in the Bishop’s orchard. This very day I heard the Bishop say, “That robin is a fine, handsome bird,—as fine and handsome as a Bishop.” I am sure that recommendation is enough.’

“‘Mr. English Sparrow.’

“‘I am sure, Mr. Wizard,’ said the sparrow, speaking very rapidly and excitedly, ‘that while I am not so big as some of these who have spoken, I have a better claim than any of them to this high office. For I have long made it a practice to study carefully the faults and weaknesses of all the other birds, and I know that I have none of these failings.’

“‘Mr. Bluebird,’ said the Wizard, ‘what have you to say?’

“‘Nothing, Mr. Wizard. I have not made up my mind. I leave the matter entirely to your eminent wisdom and judgment.’ And he sat down.

“‘Well,’ said the owl, after a moment’s deliberation, ‘the next thing to do under these circumstances seems to be to read your fortunes, that is, your characters, in the light of the comet. I shall ask you, one by one, to step up on this judgment-seat at my left, where the light of the comet can fall on you and where I can see you plainly. Mr. Crow, will you be the first?’

“Mr. Crow stepped up to the judgment-seat very confidently, while the Wizard put on his spectacles and turned the lamp so that the light fell full upon the glossy feathers of the large black bird. It was a revolving seat, which the Wizard turned round and round slowly so that he could see all sides of the bird. ‘A fine bird,’ he said, very deliberately, as if thinking aloud, ‘a perfect bird, unless—unless what?—let me see—ah, a slant in the left eye—in both eyes—a very decided slant—very sly—very cunning—inclined to steal—very much inclined to steal—a thief, in fact; steals Mr. Farmer’s corn and peas—especially in the early morning when nobody is around—a very bad fault—one of the worst. I am quite sure, Mr. Crow, that Springtime would not choose you for his herald—he could not trust you. That will do. Mr. Parrot!’

“Mr. Parrot walked up very sedately and took his place on the judgment-seat. The Wizard gazed at him gravely and stroked his back. ‘Fine feathers—green, red—yellow—fine feathers—rather small head—large tongue—large tongue, small head—talks more than he thinks—talks very much more than he thinks—talks often without thinking—says what he hears others say. Tongue rather harsh, too—and blisters at the end—bad words! bad words! I am sorry to say, Mr. Parrot, that I cannot recommend you as herald. People would not be glad to see you year after year. That will do. Mr. Blue Jay!’

“The blue jay stepped up very jauntily and took the seat.

“The Wizard looked at him admiringly, for he was clad in a beautiful tailor-made suit that fitted him to perfection. ‘A handsome bird,’ he said, ‘a handsome bird,—that is, handsome clothes. Eye very good, too—a little slant, a little slant—but on the whole a good eye. Let me see, what is this on the back of the head? these long feathers?—oh, a crest! I see. Just for decoration. A vain bird, vain as a peacock—and like all vain people, hard to get along with—and very unfriendly—likes to flock alone—other folks not quite good enough. I regret to inform you, Mr. Blue Jay, that Springtime would not desire you as his herald. That will do. Mr. Robin!’

“The robin hopped up on the seat in his fine dress suit and red shirt-front, his chest inflated and his eyes shining. The Wizard looked at him intently for some time, then he began, ‘You are the Bishop’s friend, you say. Let me see—a bright red spot on your bill—the Bishop’s cherries, I should say—but we’ll let that pass. Eye very suspicious—very suspicious—always looking even among your best friends, to see if somebody isn’t going to harm you—cannot pull a worm out of the Bishop’s garden without looking around suspiciously all the time. A very unhappy frame of mind to be in—unhappy for you—unhappy for others. You would hardly do for the herald. That will do. Mr. English Sparrow!’

“The English sparrow fluttered up noisily and took his place. ‘You say,’ began the Wizard, ‘that you have not the faults of the other birds.’

“‘Yes,’ said the sparrow, talking very fast, ‘I am not as mean as the crow, and I don’t talk such nonsense as old Polly, and I’m not so stuck up as the jay, and I am not suspicious as the Bishop’s friend is. I haven’t any of the faults of the other birds.’

“The Wizard pushed his spectacles up on his brow, turned the light away, and looked at him, ‘I see,’ he said, ‘I do not need the comet light at all. I could see you in the dark. Sharp bill—sharp tongue—sharp claws, in a continual state of bad temper—very quarrelsome—very unpleasant neighbour; in fact, a common nuisance. That will do, Mr. Bluebird!’

“‘I am sure, Mr. Owl,’ said the bluebird, rising, ‘that I need not take your time. I am not the bird to be chosen, for I know that I am far from being a perfect bird. I have many faults. There are many nobler birds than I from whom Springtime may choose his herald.’

“But the Wizard was quite insistent that the bluebird should come forward where he could read his fortune.

“‘You say that you have many faults,’ remarked the Owl. ‘That may be, but I see by the light of the comet that they are small, very faint indeed. Besides, the ability to see one’s faults and the desire to correct them is the greatest of virtues. There may be better birds, but I am frank to say that I am not acquainted with them. I have no hesitation, Mr. Bluebird, in saying that it is my judgment that you should be the herald of the Spring, for, if you will permit me to say it, it seems that you are

“‘Both handsome and happy, gifted and good,

And as modest as modest can be,’

whereat Mr. Bluebird blushed painfully, while in his heart he was very happy.

“Springtime agreed with Mr. Owl, and posted notices on every tree by the water’s edge that Mr. Bluebird should henceforth be his herald, the first bird of the spring.

“There is one now on the branch of that old tree,” said the Wise-and-Wonder-Man. “He is carrying the colours and playing the fife.”

***

If you should wonder how that Bluebird sounds, announcing Spring, “it always sounds to me as if he were saying, ‘Pur-i-ty, pur-i-ty,’ but I asked him one day and he said it was only, ‘Spring-is-here, spring-is-here.’”

That was how Jay T. Stocking ended the story.

by Ahmad Omari who says "That look kills me"

Whether to a photographer laughing at a winking owl or an author, birds have long fascinated us.  As natural historian and maker of nature documentaries, David Attenborough, says, "Everyone likes birds.  What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to us and everyone in the world, as universal as a bird?"

Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes
Everyone likes birds. What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to us and everyone in the world, as universal as a bird?
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes

Stocking, or perhaps I should say Reverend Stocking, as he spent most of his life as a minister even writing one hymn, but he also wrote several books of stories for children and young adults.  Can you imagine how lively his sermons must have been?  Some time I may post more from his Stocking Tales, where this was originally published.  I own that book, but first discovered today's offering in my recent acquisition by the Skinner sisters, Ada M. and Eleanor L., The Emerald Story Book; Stories and Legends of Spring, Nature and Easter.  

I now have their entire year of four jewel-named books.  They are indeed jewels, so I'm delighted to have them to prowl, but my copies are paperback reprints losing the full-color of the Maxfield Parrish frontispiece illustrations.  Today and in the future I find Project Gutenberg online helps save my books and are worth supporting their organization for their many Public Domain books.  So far they don't offer the rest of the "jewels" in the series not linked to the seasons, so I hope they add them soon.

Just as Reverend Stocking found birds worth observing, there also are many quotations about birds, including this appropriate one from the Uruguayan writer, Eduardo Galeano

Each day has a story to -- deserves to be told, because we are made of stories.  I mean,  scientists say that human beings are made of atoms, but a little bird told me that we are also made of stories.

Let us keep those stories alive and in the Public Domain. 

*****************

This is part of a series of postings of stories under the category, "Keeping the Public in Public Domain."  The idea behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the authors and their immediate heirs were compensated.  I feel strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the 20th century.  My own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public Domain I decided to share stories from them.  I hope you enjoy discovering new stories.  



At the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an audience.  Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing of Public Domain stories will not occur that week.  This is a return to my regular posting of a research project here.  (Don't worry, this isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future storytelling to an audience.)  Response has convinced me that "Keeping the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other postings as often as I can manage it.
Other Public Domain story resources I recommend-
  • There are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's database, Yashpeh, the International Folktales Collection.  I have long recommended it and continue to do so.  He has loaded Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
  • You may have noticed I'm no longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking specific types of stories.  There's another site, FairyTalez claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales, folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.

    Between those two sites, there is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait, there's more!"
The email list for storytellers, Storytell, discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional suggestions:            
         - David K. Brown - http://people.ucalgary.ca/~dkbrown/stories.html
         - Richard Martin - http://www.tellatale.eu/tales_page.html
         - Spirit of Trees - http://spiritoftrees.org/featured-folktales
         - Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ .  It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016  and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
       - World of Tales - http://www.worldoftales.com/ 
           - Zalka Csenge Virag - http://multicoloreddiary.blogspot.com doesn't give the actual stories, but her recommendations, working her way through each country on a continent, give excellent ideas for finding new books and stories to love and tell.
     
You're going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT go to the Internet Archive Wayback Machine to find some of these old links.  Tim's site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a full-time job.  In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she could no longer maintain it.  Possibly searches maintained it.  Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library (something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine.  It took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally in December of 2006 it appears!
    Somebody as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.  I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that becomes the only way to find them.
You can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun discovering even more stories!

 

 

 

 

Each day has a story to - deserves to be told, because we are made of stories. I mean, scientists say that human beings are made of atoms, but a little bird told me that we are also made of stories.
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes
Each day has a story to - deserves to be told, because we are made of stories. I mean, scientists say that human beings are made of atoms, but a little bird told me that we are also made of stories.
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes