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I'm uncovering, rediscovering, gifting,
keeping and letting go
living
I was inspired by Marti, in her recent telling of Round Robin
storytelling with her grandchildren, to dig out this old activity
I'd done with my own school-age children (I think they were about 9 & 12 at the time)
and the school-age children I worked with back then.
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| Where the storytelling began |
One day, we three sat down, rolled the dice and wrote stories.
I no longer have theirs (sent off with them as they became adults)
My daughter loved to write then, my son - somewhat...
But, here is mine. I think I was the most interested in this writing anyway. haha
My story just fell out, scribbled as fast as I could write.
Never changed or edited to this day.
I only transcribed it today so I could share here,
fixing only a grammar mistake here or there.
Probably leaving many, as this was not my goal, to edit and re-write.
I'm pretty sure that I've added in new typos as well!
I noticed some interesting things as I read it again after so many years and with Dee's journals still in my head.
More on those thoughts later.
First, just read...
Roll a Story
It was the summer of my twelfth birthday and I was bored. It’s not that
there’s nothing to do on a Wisconsin dairy farm. I had about a million chores
to take care of. But, milking cows isn’t what a drummer wants to do with his
hands! The rest of the guys in my band had taken off for the summer, so it was
just me, my little sister, my parents and the cows for the next three months.
Oh, was I ever bored. Oh, did I need some excitement!
One morning, when I’d finished my chores, I went out into the old
lean-to to practice my drums. After about an hour, I grew tired of listening to
myself, minus the rest of the band. I left the lean-to and my drums behind and
went to hunt up my sister. I found her climbing the big old apple tree in the
back yard. “Hey sis, want to go exploring?” I yelled. She jumped out of the
tree and came running, as I knew she would. Both my sister and I were crazy
about exploring the woods beyond the farm. We shouted to mom, asking if we
could go. “Yes, but be back by dark”, she replied as usual. Sis and I grabbed
our bikes and took off down the dirt path that leads to the woods.
At the edge of the woods, we got off the bikes and hid them under the
fallen log. It was cool and shady in the woods and it felt good after the ride.
We started off quickly, but slowed down after a couple hundred yards. Right
about then I noticed something brown sticking out from beneath a rock. With
much effort, sis and I pushed the rock aside. We brushed the dirt and leaves
off and discovered it was an old, flat football! There was a tiny tear in one
seam and the heavy rock must have pushed all the air out. “How do you think
that got here?” Sis said. “I don’t know,” I answered, “but let’s take it with
us. Maybe it will bring us good luck!” I may have just turned twelve, but I
still like imaging things and goofing off with my little sister. We strolled
along the shady trail looking for chipmunks, wildflowers and birds. When we got
to the little creek, we decided to cross and hunt for the cave we’d seen once
before. It was 1.5 years ago and almost dark, when we’d discovered a dark
crevice in the side of the hill near the creek. Although we’d looked and looked
for the cave again, we never did find it.
Sis and I rock hopped across the slow trickle of creek and headed
upstream along the bank. I was getting awfully tired of holding the old
football and complained over and over, until Sis finally took a turn carrying
it. We’d only gone about ten paces since Sis became the carrier, when I stopped
dead in my tracks. Right in front of us, without even looking for it, was the
cave of long ago! I looked at Sis and at the same time we said, “Football
magic!”
We hurried inside the cave and started looking around. There really
wasn’t much in there, except these funny looking rocks. They weren’t really
very pretty at all, except they had these little spots of smooth
whitish/clearish color. “Look at these Sis, I wonder how they’d turn out in my
rock tumbler!” I said. We decided to take some home to try it out. After much
bickering on how to best carry them home, Sis came up with the brilliant idea
of putting them in the old football (remember the little tear?) that she was
still holding.
We sat for about an hour filling the football with the rocks. Some of
the rocks were too big for the tear, so I opened up the hole a little bigger to
fit them in. After the football could hold no more, we decided it was time to
go. There was only one problem; the hole was big enough to let some of the
rocks fall out as we walked. Now it was my turn for a brilliant idea. The
shoelace on my right shoe was almost warn through, so I got a semi-sharp rock
and sawed off the little end. After tying my shoelace in a knot, I took the bit
of lace and threaded it through the football, closing the hole up completely.
Then we were ready to head home. As we stepped out of the cave we
realized a horrible fact, it was almost dark and we were a long way from home!
We started at a quick trot, which was very hard to do with a football full of
rocks. All the while we were hurrying along, Sis and I argued about who should
carry that rock-filled football. No matter what kind of case I presented, Sis
held fast to the idea that since she was younger and littler, she shouldn’t
have to share the carrying duties.
We had just crossed the creek and were heading up the slight incline to
the path, when there in front of us was this huge brown, hairy creature. “Oh my
gosh!” Sis screamed, “That’s Bigfoot! I’ve read all about him!” We moved quickly
downstream as Bigfoot started for us. “What’ll we do?” cried Sis. Suddenly I
acted like the man I was soon becoming. Feeling a fierce need to protect my
little sister, I hurled the football towards Bigfoot! It must have been that
super-human strength you get in a time of crisis, because that rock-filled
football shot like a bullet and hit Bigfoot right between the eyes. He went
down and hard. Then he rolled down the small incline and fell into the creek.
Sis and I scrambled up to the path and raced for home. It was just about
dusk when we got to our bikes at the fallen log. Peddling as fast as we could,
we got back to the farm just as the last bit of light faded from the summer
sky.
That night at supper, we told our parents about our adventure with the
football and the cave of rocks. We of course left out the part about Bigfoot,
figuring no one would believe us anyway.
Dad had been a geologist before he wanted to ‘get back to the country’
and bought our farm, so he was very interested in our description of those
rocks. He asked us to take him there the following day.
Early the next morning we set out. We moved along quickly and had no
trouble finding the spot on the creek bed where we’d dropped the football. I
took out the shoelace and showed the rocks to Dad. He became quietly excited
and asked us to show him the cave. We took him across the creek to the cave.
Once inside, Dad’s face began to glow. “Well kids, you’ve discovered a new
diamond mine! And the best thing is, these parts of the woods are on our
property. We’re rich!” We all three hugged and jumped about for several
minutes. Then we took the diamond filled football back to the farm to
share the excitement with mom.
And of course, Sis and I never breathed a word about Bigfoot to anyone.
But, we made Dad take the football with him every time he went to work on the
mine. “Football magic!” we’d whisper as he headed towards the woods.
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WHAT I HAD ROLLED:
I am: A musician
Location: Dairy farm
Need: An old football
Meet: Bigfoot
Discover: A new
diamonds mine
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WHAT I NOTICED:
I was able to write as my 12 year old self!
Really driven home when the spellcheck showed a 4.6 grade level!
Ha
I obviously wrote my own children in age-wise, birth order-wise, what I dreamed for them
(especially in their relationship, which I thought looked quite like this back then)
I think I also wrote as I dreamed my life would be, could have been, may like it to be...if I didn't really have my own true life, which was not quiet this peaceful and idyllic.
Much of my writing style has not changed, in that I love and use too many commas,
mix up tenses and use incorrect pronouns or whatever in regards to number. I still use a 'passive voice' way too much.
And oh so many cliches!
What does that say about me? haha
Lastly, as I've said before, I don't really edit much. I fix up typos, spelling or minimal
grammar mistakes.
But I basically write as I speak and leave it there.
I do not have the interest to revamp, pull apart and cut (Like Dee or Deb L.)
I write, I usually like it and I move on.
For whatever any of that is worth.
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Anyway, I hope I've entertained you with this trip down memory lane.
I have a second story that was started back then, most likely at work.
But, it was never finished.
Perhaps I will put that here some day and we could Round Robin it, a la Marti!
they are now in the mail bag for Liz and Marti.
