BIRTH STORIES

       Births are spine tingling events. I told you about my birth in a post. It's too bad that often the person's birth story is not shared with them. I heard my birth story from my Dad but not because he was telling it to me. He was telling others and I happened to be listening. 

     My two youngest brothers have stories. I was 15 when my youngest brother was born so was part of the story. 

    My third brother was born in the old wooden shack we lived in. He was born in February which is a brutal winter month. Roads were poor at the time and there was no snow removal so all winter travel was by horses. Somebody brought the doctor out and the wondrous event began. The event ended  with a bit of an emergency. The baby was not breathing. My Mom had some problems that had to be dealt with. When my Mom was stabilized the Doctor put his attention on the infant. The Doctor gave my brother artificial respiration. One puff and my brother began breathing and crying. The Doctor was almost a chain smoker so my Dad always joked that the tobacco breath was what started my brother breathing. 

     My youngest brother doesn't know this but he was almost born in the car on the highway.

    We were  taking Mom to the small town with an eight bed hospital. This was well before her due date. Again it was mid February. Open roads at that time were still not reliable. The roads could be blocked with snow for a week or ten days. Roads were gravel. On our way   the old Studebaker made a 360 in the middle of the road and continued down the road as if nothing had happened. However, the passengers in the car were pretty stressed. So it's easy to say that this stress could have brought on the birth right there out on the highway. However, about two weeks later Mom came home with our new baby brother. 

    Later on my brother became the director of nursing in the little hospital he was born in. And he looked up the records on his birth. 

    

A TEAR IN MY EYE

       Today was a holiday so CBC  radio played some old reruns.

       The one that caught my ear was Stuart Mclean reading one of his stories.

       Stuart Mclean was a well loved Canadian author and story teller. He had a long running radio show on CBC . One of the features of the show was Stuart reading one of his stories.

     The stories were based on a family Dave, Morley, Sam (son) and Stephany (daughter). Each of the family had some huge inadequate parts of character and ability. Each one of them also had some tremendous strong abilities and character. Stuart's stories wound around the abilities and weaknesses of this family. There were also people in the neighborhood that the family interacted with. There was Mary Turlington, who was a know it all. Carl Lowbeer, who was a retired engineer and was a little lonely. Kenny Wong, who made and sold meat pies and was a friend of Daves. Their was Arthur the dog. There was a whole neighborhood for this family to interact with. 

     Today's story was suitable for the season. Morley, an inept gardener all her life, was cleaning up her garden. When Sam was 8 or 9 Morley had tried to interest him in gardening. She bought him a special little Tonka back hoe trying to interest him in gardening. It didn't work. Today she was cleaning up under the peony and hit something with her trowel. She pulled and it was The little digger she had given to Sam for his gardening. 

     Mclean wrote hundreds of these stories and they are on You Tube. 

     So today  when I heard Stuart reading this story there was a nostalgic moment or two.

    Very sadly Stuart died a few years ago . I miss his readings and stories. I do have two of his books.

    Check on You Tube and listen to some of his stories.

Grandma Was a Story Teller

       My Grandma was born in 1874 in Russia/Ukraine. She had no formal education. She learned to read though the church school. So she had a basic reading and writing level. I would think the only thing she ever read was the bible.

      Grandma came to Canada in 1903. 

      We visited Grandma about once a week and a couple of times a year we stayed with her. Several times a year there was a large family do and our cousins were at Grandmas too.

     Sometimes Grandma probably had enough with grandchildren tearing around her small house and she would get us together for a story. I guess she wanted to get control of the situation and calm us down.

     Grandma would take us under the stairs which was dark and small. This was also on top of the trap door that led to the cellar. Did I tell you Grandma was four feet by four feet by four feet? So it was crowded and dark. 

     This was the place Grandma used for telling her stories. She certainly knew how to set the mood for her stories. She was also a master at using her voice to add to the story. She knew when a quiet voice was necessary or rapid speaking ...all techniques were used.

     Grandma's stories were about wolves chasing people in Russia. Telling  a story which is a chase is a standard pattern. Grandma had no problem with the story line being carried along.

    Grandma's stories were always about wolves chasing people so there was always conflict.

    Yes she had characterization too. The wolves were always sneaky,mean , fierce, evil beings.

    Rising action was no problem. Wolves chased and  got closer. The person being chased got lost or fell. Hunters came along to scare the wolves.

    Sometimes there was a grisly conclusion and sometimes the person escaped. Grandma had a good sense of the horror story.

    For a lady who'd never been to school she certainly knew all the elements of a short story. Her stories were always different. There were always surprises.

   These stories were thrilling and we loved them. We always thought it was very funny when our little girl cousins would be scared and leave the stair well. They were always crying. 

    Grandma's stories were really folk lore stories from her past.

    They were certainly impressive stories as I remember them from 70 years ago. I will never forget Grandma's stories. Once in a while my brother and I still talk about Grandma's stories.

    So have you had the fantastic exposures to the oral story teller?