Tell Me Something Good

If Cars Could Talk by David Doyle

Man, oh man – I’m glad cars can’t talk!

When my parents told me that we were going to Grandmother’s and Granddad’s to look at a used car FOR ME, I about came out of my skin. In 1974, I was 17 and a junior in high school; about half of my friends had cars, but I was still hitchhiking home from school most days.

When we arrived, my heart sank. The car was a land yacht – a great big, wide 4-door Plymouth Fury III. No 17-year old wanted to be seen driving grandma’s 4-door Plymouth Fury III, especially when the color was BEIGE with white-trimmed chrome everywhere!

Yep. I can still see my first glimpse of the car, backed into Granddad’s driveway, and giving me stink-eye as I walked towards it. As I approached, I heard Granddad say that it belonged to someone he had worked with, and that the owner had hardly used it. This 1968 Plymouth Fury III had only 18,000 original miles, and it was in perfect shape in 1974!

My parents bought the car for $400 and the agreement was that I’d work and pay for insurance and gas.

You know what? Before too long I found that I LOVED this car! The A/C was cold, the seats and carpet were flawless, as was the body, and all the gauges worked. Did I mention that the car was very wide? Long and wide bench seats in the front and back provided extra “utility” for the car. But, I needed to make some changes before I could really show it off.

First, I bought chrome-plated baby-moon wheels all the way around. Next, I replaced the standard mufflers on the 318-cubic inch V-8 engine with glass packs (the straight-through exhaust that gave cars of the day that “rumble, rumble” sound). Next, I raised the back end about 4” so I could fit larger tires in rear the wheel well. The lift wasn’t quite high enough, so I added adjustable air shocks that gave me the extra height and allowed a future owner to adjust the height for regular-sized tires.

Obviously, my next purchase was big fatty tires all the way around! The back tires were about 12” wide, and the front were about 8”. With raised white letters on the tires, shiny-chromed baby-moon wheels, the raised back end, the custom dual-exhaust, the only other thing that I needed was tunes. I could have bought an 8-track like most of my friends had, but I instead chose a removable/lockable cassette deck, which I mounted under the dash below the AM/FM radio. With four new powerful speakers and the glass pack exhaust, my presence was known before I arrived.

Man, I was stylin’! My land yacht was the favorite ride for all my friends because I could fit about 8 people in this beast, we had great tunes, and a fine ride!

We went everywhere in that car – lots of concerts, skiing in Colorado and Sunrise Ski Resort, vacations in California, trailheads at remote desert locations….and drive-in movies. That car saw lots of drive-in movies (more than I saw, and I was there!).

I remember all my cars, even though a few were utterly forgettable. That old Plymouth, however, turned out to be one of my favorites. If cars could talk, my first car could tell some stories that --- well, you know. Never mind.

What was your favorite car? What secrets does it hold? What is your most memorable car story? Did you have long and wide back seat?

The image at the top can be found here.

Gifts from the Stories I have Heard By Anna Blocher-Rubin

I began my journey with storytelling when I was in college. I took a mythology class and my teacher taught using a story format. He was so awesome with his delivery. It was as if he was an Entertainment Tonight newscaster, telling the class about the latest drama in the world of Greek and Roman mythology. I don't know where my teacher is, or if he teaches any longer. If I could, I would tell him how he planted a seed within, that would bloom 20 years later and be applied in my life through stories I tell my family, friends, and students.

I love storytelling and all that it has to offer. Going to class, or storytelling events are like going to a buffet and each story is a dish to sample. I don't always know what selection of stories will be offered to the audience, but it’s a positive anticipation to be open to. Some stories have touched me deeply, bringing me to tears. I’ve heard a storyteller craft his story so well that I felt I was in the story, as I heard the words come out of his mouth. Some tellers have been so descriptive with a dancing pace, that the story became a movie that played out before my eyes, as I listened. Laughter is medicine that heals the soul, and I have heard storytellers who were quick to share stories, using humor to connect and heal.

I love the diversity of stories told through a mic, and the individuals that share a part of themselves through witnessing events, telling stories of myths, or sharing their insights on life. For me, stories are life's gifts left for the audience to take with them in exchange for a connection of being human.

The image at the top can be found here.

The Storytelling Triangle by Rhonda Brewer

I am sure everyone has watched a music awards show.  One attribute all these shows have in common is the variety of acts that are showcased. Some acts perform with the full experience-laser light shows, pyrotechnics, and elaborate costumes.  Others skip the special effects but fill the stage with band members, backup singers, and sometimes even dancers.  All these performances are exciting and fun to watch; however, often the talent of the music and the musician is overlooked or even lost.

For me the most memorable performances are the solo acts.  In country music, this is when Tim McGraw stands on the stage in his black hat in front of the white background and sings “Live Like You Were Dying.” Or when Carrie Underwood stands on the stage alone and sings “Cry Pretty.” These artists are so talented they can tell their stories of loss and trauma without all the background noise.

For me storytelling is like these memorable musical performances.  The teller stands in the middle of the stage without a background, special effects, backup singers or dances and tells the story.  Using only his/her body and voice, the message is relayed from the artist to the listener-plain and simple. The story telling triangle described by Doug Lipman in Improving Your Storytelling is complete because a relationship has been created between the teller, the story and the audience.

The image at the top is from Doug Lipman's Improving Your Storytelling.

Evolution by Mindy Tarquini

    In his fantastical work, The Island of the Day Before, the notable Italian writer, Umberto Eco, said “To survive, we must tell stories.”

            We must.

            We must share them, repeat them, adapt them to a new generation, a changing world. We must keep them authentic, yet malleable. Simple, yet layered. We must imbue them with the richness of panna cotta, the savor of roasted garlic, the brightness of crushed basil. Make them tangible, alive, of a texture both familiar and fresh. A texture that conveys the voice of the Teller, reveals the heart of the maker, and the soul of our shared humanity.

            I am a novelist, a writer of fables, fairytales, fantastical histories steeped deep in my culture. Funny, poignant, sometimes heavy to carry, I craft my stories into carefully structure packages, edited and re-edited, with specific word counts, divided into sentences and paragraphs, chapters and sections. Titled and covered, once published my written tales are finished. They are fixed. Carved in granite and as immutable.

            Oral storytelling grants me a new way to share my written works, also my ideas, my notions, my fancies. I’m discovering the joy of tailoring my work to the audience before me, the situation of the moment, the circumstances in which I find myself. I can tell my stories over and over and never the same way twice, free to change a name, a relationship, a setting, a metaphor. Free to make new stories from the old, to shuffle and reshuffle, upcycle and repurpose. Content. Characters. Colors. Contours. The course of events.

            To survive, we must tell stories. To thrive, it’s sometimes fun to adapt them, change them. To inform. To inspire.

            To illuminate.