Me Stories
Here it is! The section you've all been waiting for: real stories from my real life! You probably don't want to know about your librarian's youth or what it's like to be her, right? Well, just give some of these a skim. You might find out something about me you'd like to hear told aloud. You never know...stranger things have happened.
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Source Summary Cultural Origins Audience Adaptation Ideas |
The Gypsies Will Take You Away
This is a story crafted by dad and told to me during some very early, formative years. It was told with the most frequency probably around the ages of 5-8 (1984-1987) Once there was a girl who was a pretty good girl. However, sometimes she decided to push her luck and not always listen to her parents. Her parents loved her so much, but they needed her to listen to them all the time. There were bad people around, people who would love to get hold of little girls like her, and she needed to listen and obey her parents at all times. These people who were looking for little girls to take were called Gypsies. They lived in caravans and roamed the country. Nobody could every find the Gypsies, though, because they were so good at hiding in the woods and forests. Because of their skill at hiding, once they took a girl, the girl would never be found again and would have to live with the Gypsies the rest of her days, instead of with their loving parents. If the girls had been bad during the day, Gypsies would steal them from their beds at night, as they slept. Gypsies also took little girls who wandered away from their parents in the mall or at stores. Gypsies were always on the lookout for new girls, and they would take the girls to make them work and make them more appreciative of their parents. But, even if they became more appreciative, they would have to live with the Gypsies, roaming the country, never seeing their parents again. This story comes from a place of love. My father loves my brother and me more than anything. When we were growing up, there was a lot in the local and national news about children being abducted, and I learned about the word “rape” at a very early age. My father told me this story to “scare me straight” into listening to him, always behaving, and always staying close to him or my mom if we were out. If my dad talked, I would hang on his every word. During dinner time he told us stories about Native American Indian tribes or stories about the mischief he and his brothers got into during their youth, and I would drink up every word. I also admired him greatly. Because of all of these components, I took everything my father said as truth. Only years later, when I told him how much this story scared me did he realize that I believed his story of the gypsies taking me away. I grew up in a culture of love, and my dad loved me so much and wanted me safe so much that he would even unwittingly scare me with stories of gypsies abducted me forever. This would be a story of reminiscence, and I would love to tell it around my parents’ family dinner table to my kids as an example of how much my dad loved me, and then we could all laugh about how ignorant I was to be scared. There have been a couple of times already when my dad has tried to revive this tale. He has turned to my oldest daughter a couple of times and has said, “Have you ever heard about the gypsies?” He then looks at me with a glint in his eye before saying, “I’ll let your mom tell you.” For this story I would incorporate a “Mother Knows Best” tone and stature: condescending, shaking my fingers to always listen, talking slowly, so the small children will understand and take heed. I guess it’s really a rather mocking tone when I think about it. I would start the story with the statement, “This is what kept your Mummy safe when she was a baby, so listen up, children,” in a very sing-song voice. At the end of the story, I would stop, and then we would talk about what it really means to be loved and protected. It doesn’t mean to mistakenly scare kids but to listen to and respect the adults in their lives, the adults who love them and strive to keep them safe from the forces who might harm them. I complete this discussion in tones of warmth, love, and caring, not in tones of mockery or condescension. |
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A Real Life Ghost Story
This is a story passed down to me from my father-in-law. His father told this to him while he was growing up. After he was first married, my father-in-law’s dad found himself living and working on an old Scottish estate near Moncrieffe. The estate was hundreds of years old, and one of his jobs was to walk around the grounds at night to make sure all was well. A dog would follow along, always a bit too close. In fact, the dog’s chin would often get clipped by my grandfather-in-law’s heels, since he was so close. One night, out on his usual routine, my grandfather-in-law saw a light on in one of the small cottages. No one had lived in this cottage on the estate for years and years. He and the dog made their way to the cottage, and the door was slightly ajar. My grandfather-in-law started to walk in and noticed that his constant companion was refusing to enter. The dog’s hair was standing on end, and he was whimpering. When my grandfather-in-law crossed the cottage’s threshold, his blood ran cold and shivers went down his spine. He quickly ran away and didn’t return for days. He only returned when he saw smoke coming from the area of the cottage. The cottage was burning to the ground, and it was never discovered what or who started the fire. This story happened to my grandfather-in-law in northern Scotland in the early 1950s. Knowing the lay of the land in northern Scotland—hilly (though mountainous by American standards), cloudy, murky, mysterious—definitely adds a spook factor to this story. I can imagine mist rising off the grounds of the estate, creeping up the legs of my grandfather-in-law and the dog, and enveloping the small, abandoned cottage. I would love to tell this story during Library Time around Halloween in a school library. This would be for a middle school library. Middle schoolers are really hard to freak out, so I would have to plot my timing carefully and perfectly. The first thing I would do while telling this story is to make sure the lights were down low. It would be even better if I was able to tell this on a dark, dreary, gray day. (Fingers crossed!) I would start the tale at a fairly steady pace, but when I got to the part about the realization of the lights being on in the cottage I would slow my pace considerably, leaving pauses in order to let the students’ minds run wild thinking what might be about to happen or over the threshold of the cottage. The creepiest part for me, without a doubt, is when the dog refuses to come into the cottage and his hair is visibly standing on end. I would really take my time with this part, and I would also add whimpers emanating from the poor pooch. At the end of the story, I would create an ending to kind of wrap things up, since the original tale just ends with the house burning down. This added ending would include a new dog, decades later rooting around where the cottage once stood. All of a sudden the dog stops, starts whimpering, then howling loudly, and running off in the opposite direction, never to return. |
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God Made Us Family; Time Made Us Friends
This is a true story about the relationship between my cousin and me. This is the story of the growing relationship between my cousin, Kendra, and me. We always hung out together growing up, our families making frequent visits to each other. She has always been a part of my life, always been there for me, and as we grow older we realize how blessed we are to have each other still. Our relationship has only grown stronger through the years, and years ago, we realized that while God brought us together in the beginning, all of our time together, all of our experiences we shared, all of the heartache and loss we have endured, have made us stronger and closer than we ever thought we’d be. Even though we don’t speak as much as we’d like or visit each other as much as we want, we are still always at the forefront of each other’s thoughts and prayers. I want to share our story with others and encourage them to develop and grow a friendship like ours, because it is life altering in the most positive, magnificent way. My father and my cousin’s father are brothers. They grew up in a family of eight kids, and of all our cousins, I was the closest to her and her two brothers growing up. Her parents were like a second mother and father to me. I always thought our close-knit family roots were a result of growing up in the Midwest, a place I associate with positive family values. Because I value my family and upbringing so much, I would want others to leave the telling with a positive outlook on what it meant to be child of the Midwest. I would like to share this story with a group of girls. I have a friend in town who has started an initiative called Be the Benchmark. This organization is about empowering young girls to create lives of impact and achieve goals that go beyond their wildest imaginations. I want to tell this story to group of middle school girls at a Be the Benchmark meeting to inspire them to always hold each other accountable, build each other up, and create friendships that last a lifetime. When delivering this tale to this audience, I want my tone to be as relaxed and natural as possible, because that’s what the friendship I have with my cousin is. I would unfold this story in stages with one line introductions at each stage. Each introduction would follow the same pattern. For example, “At two and three, they were diaper buddies,” “At 10 and 11 they ogled the loves of their lives,” or “At 24 and 25 they experienced heartache and loss beyond imagination.” After each statement, I would then explain what we celebrated, endured, or simply experienced together. I would tell this story in third person. I would try to give myself some distance with the story, so I wouldn’t be crying by the end. But, if tears did come, the audience would know how much I love, admire, and cherish my cousin and how my life without her would be unbearable. |
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Late Night Love Affair
This story comes from my experiences after being on the closing shift at the best job I ever had. It involves the Food Network and the world of independent bookselling. The best job I ever had was at an independent bookstore in Champaign called Pages for All Ages. Many people hated working the closing shift, but I loved it, because it meant I got to rush home and watch my new favorite chef, Jamie Oliver. Jamie Oliver had a show with a tantalizing name—The Naked Chef. He was an absurdly cute English bloke, with a bit of a lisp, and an extraordinary talent for making my tummy rumble and my mouth water at midnight. I would want to rush out of my room, storm into my kitchen, and replicate whatever he had just created. The problem was I didn’t have any saffron in the house or almost any other ingredient he used except for onions. It became a weekly ritual for me to do the close shift at least once a weekend, sometimes both Friday and Saturday, come home, watch and drool over Jamie (and his food), and then consult with my shift manager, Bill, the next day about the previous evening’s episode. Jamie was still a new, fresh name, and Bill and I were on the cutting edge of new food by loving this bloke before anyone else. We were totally meta. My late night love affair with Jamie and his food would continue throughout the next couple of years, until Food Network put him on at an earlier, primer hour, when millions of others discovered how awesome he was. But Bill and I can always say that we knew Jamie first. This story is steeped in (no pun intended) a culture of food, books, and friendship. Because of that, this story starts and finishes with my love for cooking shows, and in the middle my love for Pages for All Ages, tagging Jamie’s books for my staff picks, and my friendship with my shift manager, who I shared so much love and laughter with while at Pages, make their way to the story, too. The telling of this story will definitely be affected by its cultural origins, since it involves some of my favorite things in life—cooking, books, Jamie Oliver—and comes from one of my happiest periods of life—working at Pages. I imagine my telling will be quite whimsical and reminiscent, and I’ll be smiling a lot. I would love to share this story with a group of people I don’t know very well or who I’ve just met, so they could get to know me better. This story really does highlight some of the things I love most in life, and after hearing it the audience would know more about me, my quirky nature, and what I value. I would tell this story in an informal way. I would love to be sitting on a desk or table. I would have a relaxed body language and open, animated face. I would be inviting these new people I don’t know very well into my life, encouraging them to get to know what I’m like at home, and I don’t want them to be intimidated by a still, cold figure, looming over them. I would keep my voice lively and energetic in its delivery of this story. |
COMING SOON!!!
"The Night I Met a Goonie"
Get ready for the story of the time I met Sean Astin. SPOILER ALERT: He was awesome.
"The Night I Met a Goonie"
Get ready for the story of the time I met Sean Astin. SPOILER ALERT: He was awesome.