Tell Me A Story, Read Me A Book

So often I found myself sitting with one in my lap

Too lost in the words I was reading to remember to take my nap

Or my head so high up in the clouds dreaming up worlds

Remembering not just where I was walking towards

You see, it was always so very important to me

To find out where each character was going

I simply had to know at once!

My life oft times continued around me

Even as I was not paying attention a nonce!


Today is the National Storytelling Festival! (Or at least it was when I looked up and printed a copy of the entire Bizarre American Holidays website list of Holidays a few years ago and was going through it once more.)

Storytelling is something that’s been a large part of my life for…well, for as long as I can remember. I love stories, whether I’m the one writing them or the one reading them, to myself or to others. The fact that a whole world or even just part of a world can exist within a few pages (or compressed data now) has always been incredibly wondrous to me. I have enjoyed reading stories, again both my own and not, to others for as long as I could get my youngest siblings to sit still long enough to let me point at pictures in a book and babble what I thought the story was to them.

Being able to tell people things, historical or mythical or fictional or religious, is one of the more important things in order to actually be a people, a country, in my opinion. It shows that there is more to life than just the moment. It makes you think and ponder and wonder.