I've been creating new stories about Pill Hill, the neighborhood
I grew up in. There are four stories, The
Pill Hill Quartet. They've been wild fun to create.
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| Illustration by Devera
Ebrenberg |
These new stories started two years ago when I was thinking about
the time a vacuum cleaner salesman went to our Pill Hill neighbor,
Mrs. Lawrence, to sell a vacuum. The salesman had never met anyone
who talked to her dog in ancient Greek. The salesman was way over
his head. The last line of the new story made me laugh out loud.
When I told it to my brother-in-law, Chip Steimle, he laughed
even harder. Electra was born!
Hot on the heels of Electra came the desire to capture some of
the delightful eccentricity of the Lawrence household. There were
Norwegians in the attic, a boa constrictor on the loose, roofers
ever appearing on the stairway with tar to fix leaks that grew
larger when the roofers left. Helge, one of the Norwegian graduate
students, would sit his near seven foot body down at the piano
and sing the Mikado while another of the Norwegians would sing
Chiquita Banana. I wrote Equations and sent it to Esquire magazine.
The editor said it was was "wonderful, funny, singing and
smart," but wondered if I'd thought the concept of equations
through. In time I did. Two short new Pill Hill stories were bubbling
along.
In Sacramento, California, my old Pill Hill friend, Russ Wyluda
reminded me of two roguish things we did in high school. From
those memories came a new story called Muddy River High. I went
to high school at the height of the cold war. Many of the teachers
behaved like cold warriors. The Russians had sent up a satellite
called Sputnik and it had the nation trembling. Our high school
definitely needed to laugh. Russ and I helped out.
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| Illustration by Devera
Ebrenberg |
And finally, A Good Nights' Rest. When I was seventeen years
old I desperately needed a bike in the middle of the night to
get to my summer job in Boston at 4:30 am. My bike had a flat
and so I went across to the Lawrences to borrow one. I don't want
to spoil the story but Mrs. Wallace was staying at the Lawrence's
to get a good night's rest.
These stories have been such fun to develop and tell. Here I
am at home creating stories about the home of my childhood. I
have the advantage of having good listening friends, and the laughter
of my brother-in-law, Chip Steimle. Devera Ehrenberg has created
illustrations that capture the spirit of those stories. Devera
was in the studio audience when I recorded them and it was my
pleasure to see her laughing.
Devera has done two New Yorker covers and I love her work. Kay
Dunlap is a terrific copy editor. Sue Ladr, magician with design,
has put it all together. And in my office, Sue Desmond kept it
all on track.
You too have all those stories inside you. Begin with a character
or memory or a feeling. You can develop them going to work. Tell
them to a good listener. And it's wise to say you just want a
listener or maybe appreciations but don't let them "fix things"
when they are emerging. You don't fix a new story any more than
you look at a brand new baby and say "Nice, but can she talk."
No, you say. "Wonderful! A miracle!"
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I write this on a summer evening. I came back home after a dip
in the ocean and paused to look at a curve in our road. The curve
seemed part of eternity. Our street is one of the oldest in Marshfield.
The curves were probably part of a path started in the 1600s.
Or the curves may have been part of a trail of the Wampanoag Tribe.
In the 1700s the trail became a dirt road for the first two houses,
ours and the Norris's house next door.
The house by the curve is the Norris's house. For years their
yard has been full of life. Jessie is in high school and often
practices soccer in the yard. Young Jake is often roller blading
or riding his bike around that curve. April Norris might be pushing
a carriage while Sue Norris is looking after all the family.
The next house is Bud and Shirley Trout. Shirley retired from
teaching years back and she and Bud bought a huge camper and traveled
as far north as Newfoundland. They skied in the winter. Bud took
skiing up in his sixties and was happy to reach eighty because
then the ski lift was free.
A few weeks ago Sue Norris came over to my yard with tears in
her eyes. "Shirley just died," Sue said. "She was
like a mother as well as a friend." Shirley got cancer six
years ago and after chemotherapy began a yarn shop in Duxbury,
the next town. Shirley was a hero to me. She kept going with such
spirit. She was always part of neighborhood gatherings. In our
annual clean up campaign, Shirley wore a mosquito netting hat
while the rest of us got bitten.
Shirley and Bud Trout and Sue Norris were part of a long effort
to keep our street from being permanently changed by a development
scheme. Over a period of several years, we'd meet at our house
and discuss strategy. We miss Shirley.
There are new neighbors, Dave and Kristen, in the last house
on our street. They've just had a baby. Hopefully, in time the
baby will be riding a bike around the curve.
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Eriko, Wataeu, Yoko and Carl Kay from
Japan
visit the curve on our road. |
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Maria MacArthur sent this letter. I couldn't resist passing it
on.
April 18, 2001
Dear Jay,
You are like an old friend to me. And we have never met! Yet
here I am writing you a letter, something rarely done these days.
I've been a mostly full-time at-home parent for the past 10 years
and you have accompanied me on most of that journey. My son listened
to Herman & Marguerite every day on the way home from nursery
school. My daughter goes to sleep to Petrukian almost every night.
Whenever I have found myself in a minivan held captive by screaming,
rowdy kids, I have popped in one of your tapes. I have been visited
by the spirits of my deceased grandmothers (one French, one a
proper lady) while listening to Tulips and Orange Cheeks. I have
found forgiveness and understanding for my chronic tardiness by
listening to "Brian."
It was Christmas, and the gifts had been opened, we'd taken our
annual Christmas hike, and the kids were spent. It was only 2:30
in the afternoon and, at ages 5 & 9, they'd long since given
up naps. Like tired children do, they began to fight. As the bickering
escalated I responded with the universal motherly cry of "Go
to your rooms!" Then popping in their new tapes (every Christmas
stocking includes a Jay O'Callahan tape if possible) I implored
them to lie down and rest. A gentle quiet took over the house
but not for long. Slowly but surely your voice increased in volume
coming from both rooms until you were fighting with yourself to
be heard. The triumph of children over adults. They had found
a way to continue their willful struggle. And you were each of
their champions!!
Thank you for your gifts. My best to you and your family.
Affectionately,
Maria MacArthur
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Every Tuesday I lead a writing group. I suggest an idea, an object,
an image or experience and we write for as long as an hour. We
read and appreciate what's alive in each piece.
The creativity astonishes me. One person writes with the fluidity
of a jazz musician, another creates whole worlds, a lawyer writes
chapters of his novel. Still another delves into her past and
touches deep sadness in the lives of people she's known. Poems,
songs and scenes flow freely.
Recently as we were writing, there was a wild summer storm. Barbara
Wall read what she had written and another Barbara said, "That
writing is like the storm outside. You should go and stand in
the rain."
Barbara Wall got up and went out and stood in the rain with the
thunder crackling and the lightning flashing just above. I was
afraid she'd be zapped, but she came back shining. We never can
tell what will happen in the writing group.
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"Enlightened"
Photo by Wiesy MacMillan |
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In June I led the Storytelling Institute at East Tennessee State
University. The participants were ready to explore the craft in
every way. Tom Banaszewski, of Somerville, Massachusetts, told
the group about being in a championship baseball game when he
was nine years old. He got a hit and never forgot that game. Tom
described the field, the parents in the stands and the advertisements
that lined the outfield.
In order to get a sense of place, we reenacted the scene. One
group became the clouds floating overhead. Three different groups
became the advertisements, while another became the parents in
the stands. Jim Gregory became a glorious sun as Tom came up to
bat. Larry Kelly was so real as a tobacco chewing advertisement,
I thought he'd spit. Dr. Joseph Sobol, Coordinator for the ETSU
Storytelling Master's Degree Program, picked up his guitar and
led us in Take Me Out to the Ball Game. The room was transformed.
We were at the game.
All this was made possible by Dr. Flora Joy, who created the
Storytelling Institute. Flora has received just about every imaginable
award including the Lifetime Achievement from the National Storytelling
Network. Seeing Flora Joy in action was like watching a dolphin
in the Pacific. She's fun, imaginative, efficient and about as
bright as you can get.
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My daughter, Laura, and her sweet- heart, Derry Mason, are moving
back to the New England area. Laura interprets for the Deaf, leads
expeditions for NOLS and Outward Bound, and is an illustrator.
Derry is an outdoor educator and NOLS leader who has just finished
several very successful years developing the Outdoor Program at
Lawrenceville Academy in New Jersey.
They are looking for a caretaker position so that they can build
up some equity. If you know of such a position or if you know
of someone who would like to have two wonderful people taking
good care of their house while they're away, please let me know.
Or you can email Laura at: Lauraeocallahan@hotmail.com
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I went to a Zen Retreat in Manhasset, New York in June. It was
a silent retreat and thirteen times a day we would meditate for
twenty-five minutes. In Zen Meditation, you are alert, you sit
still, your spine erect, and your eyes half closed. You concentrate
on the breath. When thoughts come, you become aware of them and
then come back to the breath.
I didn't know if I could get through thirteen sittings a day,
but the head monk was especially helpful when I had back problems.
We meditated in a beautiful room with a stone floor. The people
in the front two rows, were the experienced meditators. They looked
really good. One young woman down at the end had on a football
sweater with the number 01 in orange. It was encouraging to have
a young woman with a football sweater meditating.
We would bow as we entered the room, and bow to our seat and
to the person opposite us. Everything was done with the care of
a Japanese Tea Ceremony. The thing I like about Zen Meditation
is that it brings calm and clarity. It's about the awareness of
living moment by moment, breath by breath.
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Paddy Swanson, Artistic Director of the Revels, is basing the
Houston Celtic Revels on images from my story The Cliffs of Culdurragh.
It's a story about an old man who lives at the edge of the world.
He dares people to take great risks and fall in love. I can't
wait to get back with director Beth Sanford in Houston and all
the singers and dancers of the Houston Revels. I hope all of Texas
comes.
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Our son, Ted O'Callahan, phoned at the end of July from Alaska,
where he's leading a NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School)
expedition. "Does it get dark yet?" Linda asked. "Well,"
Ted said, "you can't read in the tent at midnight any more.
. . but it doesn't get dark."
In September, Ted will go to Patagonia, Chile to lead NOLS groups
for seven months. When Ted was six, I was working on my story
about Magellan. Ted helped with the story. He said, "Put
in some funny sailors." I did. It's the best part. The story
is about Magellan's epic search for a passage through the land
to the Pacific . . . the Strait of Magellan. That's where Ted's
headed. Ah, the mystery of story.
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Dear Jay O'Callahan,
My name is Emma Rose Bennet and I am 5 years old. I am writing
to tell you I think you're the best storyteller in the world.
I listen to "Rasperries" and "Little Heros"
all the time. Me and my dad love makeing up stories at snack time
before bed. My dad said he saw you when he was in 3rd grade in
Brookline, Mass.
Love,
Emma
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Catherine Conant's
new CD |
*Catherine Conant has a wonderful CD called Exit 11. She describes
growing up in the shadow of the New Jersey Turnpike. Her sense
of place is so vivid the listener is transported to her childhood.
Her story of Breaking Dishes, is a story of freedom found in the
heart of a young girl. Exit 11 is lovely. Her website is www.4storyteller.com
*In the last two years, Dick Wheeler, hero of The Spirit of the
Great Auk, has rowed around Cape Cod. Thousands have followed
his journey on the internet. He goes into schools and students
pepper him with questions about his adventures and the environment.
He continues to inspire. Dick's email address is wheelerauk@mediaone.net
*Pat Schneider's book, A Continuing Passion: Writing Alone and
With Others, will be published in the fall of 2003 by Oxford University
Press. Pat, writer, poet, essayist is one of the great writing
teachers. Pat's email address is pat@amherstwriters.com
*Judith Black's show, Retiring the Champ, is a marvel. The show
is funny, moving, beautifully crafted and performed. It explores
Judith's relationship with her mother-in-law as her mother-in-law
ages and approaches death. Here is the work of a mature artist.
Retiring the Champ moved me in the way that Tennessee Williams
moves me. Judith's email address is jb@storiesalive.com
*Len Cabral, Prince of Storytelling. In February, Len was walking
his dog on a Sunday morning and was hit by a speeding car, breaking
his leg and seriously injuring his shoulder. He has healed with
the loving care of his wife, Judy, his brothers, and hard work
on Len's part. In July, Len's Dad died. In the eulogy the speaker
called Len's Dad a prince. It runs in the family.
*Storytellers, Wiesy MacMillan and Andrea Lovett, got a grant
from the Marshfield, Massachusetts Cultural Council to interview
World War II veterans. The veterans were overjoyed someone was
interested in their stories. The Massachusetts Cultural Council
said their project was exemplary. Wiesy's email address: macwies@aol.com.
Andrea's email address is love2tell2@aol.com
*Tom McCabe's CD, The Queen of Filene's Basement, is terrific.
The opening story is on the list of my top favorite stories of
mine. Tom's email address: ShoesNews@aol.com
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