Storytelling in Kaukauna

At Peace United Methodist Church in Kaukauna, the organizers told me I'd  told stories there before, but I couldn't remember doing it.  Then we figured out that it was decades ago.  I've been a professional storyteller for thirty years with hundred of performances behind me so if I forget, it's understandable. 

Today, it was a mother-daughter banquet that we had arranged almost a year before.  

I had to leave the Seymour United Methodist Church as soon as the chancel choir sang their anthem at the Sunday morning services.  The pastor  excused us from singing for the communion service.  I don't miss very often, and this way, I could sneak out of services at 11:00, get in my car and drive half an hour to Kaukauna. 

Mother-daughter banquets aren't exactly the same as they used to be.  There are single mothers.  Women with no daughters come anyhow.  (I had a son so was never eligible back in the old days.)  It still is true that women of all ages come, from the tiny girls to great-grandmothers in their 90's.  It is usual for the men of the church to serve but I ducked into the kitchen and found them talking sports.  Their wives had done all the cooking which was served buffet style.  The women had decorated.  All the men really had to do was pour coffee and later do some dishes, though the plates were paper.   "They don't trust us all that much," one of the guys explained. 

The food looked delicious but I can never eat before I perform, but there were egg rolls that called to me.  Finally, at the ladies' insistence, I put together a plate and stored it in the refrigerator to eat later.  (I did just that.) 

After the meal and a few announcements, I did my performance which consisted of two songs and two stories. The first song was an introductory one about singing stories.  Next came a story I wrote based on a Yiddish folk tale about a seamstress and what she did with a bolt of white satin.  I followed that with a story I learned from a Scottish teller I met in England.   Each story is about fifteen minutes long.  Finally, I sang a Judy Small song, "The Lambing to the Wool" which I think demonstrates that farm families are the same no matter what country. 

Later, as I ate my lunch, I sat with people who wanted to talk about my life on the road.  One woman would like to tell stories but she doesn't know how to make them interesting.   "What problems do your characters have?"  I asked.  "What trouble do they get into?"   

"I don't like to have trouble in my stories," she said.  I asked her what went wrong when she got married, and she told me a funny story about her cake falling over.  

"Is that the story you tell every time you talk about your wedding?"  

She said yes. 

I told her that if things didn't go wrong in my life, I would have no stories to tell.  She liked that way of looking at things.  

Though come to think of it, nothing went wrong at Peace United Methodist Church. 

I should have made something up.