About

As I write this the wind is rattling the rafters and whining through the attic, reminding me that beyond this comfortable room is a world wild and vibrant and full of adventure.  I rarely hear the whistle and moan of the wind without thinking of MGM’s The Wizard of Oz and the adventures of Dorothy Gale. When the wind is onstage something exciting happens.  The twister tears across the prairie to snatch Dorothy away from her safe and familiar world.  The insistent breeze scatters the dry leaves ahead of the flying monkeys and fills their leathery wings as Dorothy is carried deeper into danger, but closer to her heart’s desire.  And it’s the wind who lifts the wizard’s balloon above the city’s walls so Dorothy can discover that the power to return home is hers alone.  As a plot device, the wind drives the pace of the story, but anyone who has ever felt tossed about by forces beyond their control identifies with the little girl from Kansas.

Most of us have seen our own reflections in the faces of a character or two from our favorite tales.  We recognize the emotions of  the heroes and villains as common in our lives.  You don’t have to be a wizard to sympathize with Harry Potter’s longing for acceptance.  And you don’t have to live in a hobbit hole to understand Bilbo’s desire to see the world beyond the Shire.  When we’re young, stories help us learn about the world. As we grow, stories helps us learn about ourselves.  In this blog, stories, legends, myths and tales will hold center stage.  Why they are loved or forgotten.  How they work and what they tell us about issues beyond the tale itself.

So tell me a story.  Tell me a story about winged horses and emerald-bellied dragons in battle or ballet over some untamed moor.  Weave me a yarn about a brave buccaneer and a cunning trickster throwing lots for the keys to a giant’s keep.  Make me laugh and we’re comrades forever; make me cry and you’ll win my heart.  Let me hear the stories that touch you, that tell me who you are, because we are human and humankind tells stories.  As sinew and bone support our flesh, stories knit together the frame where hangs our souls.

A little about the me–to keep books on the shelves and paints on my palette, I have been an office worker,  a waitress and a retail clerk.  Once upon a time long ago, I worked at a tourist trap on Route 66 where I played a prairie maiden from 9:00 to 5:00 five days a week.  On occasion I worked as a disc jockey for small radio stations in central Missouri—a perfect job for someone who loves stories.  In between jobs, I earned an undergraduate degree in English and communications.  Years later I added a Master’s degree in theology.  I’ve raised two sons and now I’m reveling in being a grandmother.  Lots of living, lots of stories.  And I feel I’ve only scratched the surface.