There is nothing quite like being down with a cold over the holidays - not something I would really recommend. Though I am thankful that I came down with after all my shows were done.
In spite of this I was happy to have gotten fresh Scottish Heather for a year of prosperity, and to have acquired true Bayberry candles to burn between Christmas and New Year's. I still had to burn the candle in the bathtub, since the hounds still haven't learned not to try to eat anything on the counter. But the tradition was observed. However, my grand plan of creating a Christmas Bibliography for the site was put on hold till tonight. I had acquired some interesting new books (though their publishing dates are, in some cases, not all that new), and wanted to share them. Ah well, they are now ready for next year! A Bright and Healthy 2013 to Everyone!!!!!
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As the coffee kicks in after a very fine Thanksgiving meal I am pondering the clues of how a story might have traveled from Europe to the US.
Originally I found a tale in Vance Randolph's Who Blowed up the Church House? entitled "White-Bear Whittington." The title had caught my attention, since there is also the English legend of "Dick Whittington and his Cat," though this is legend connected to a 14th century Mayor of London. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Whittington_and_His_Cat) And none of the later tales have anything to do with a cat. The Ozark story bears a very loose resemblance to East of the Sun West of the Moon and The Black Bull of Norway. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_of_the_Sun_and_West_of_the_Moon) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Bull_of_Norroway). The Ozark version, though, doesn't have the husband shape shift - he simply wears a white bearskin coat. His bewitchment occurs when he is entranced from his family by a sorceress. My curiosity was reawakened (though not solved) when I came upon William H. Hooks' picture book, Snowbear Whittington: An Appalachian Beauty and the Beast. It is very similar to East of the Sun West of the Moon. I found a interesting website, AppLit (http://www2.ferrum.edu/applit/bibs/tales/whitebear.htm), which offers an excellent overview of the American variations, and learned that the tale is also known as, "The Three Golden Nuts." And I also learned that Mr. Hooker based his story upon oral performances that started off very like Beauty and The Beast. I, however, have not yet learned why the name, "Whittington" has had such staying power with the tales. On this All Hallow's Eve I will begin with the most important, though not the most scarey. Last night I attended a fund raiser at the Inn at 835 for the Historic Preservation Fund. It was exciting to hear that plans are in the works for a very well-designed Historic Trails through Springfield, Illinois. It will help to offer a connectedness for visitors between our many beautiful historical sites.
(http://www.illinoishistory.gov/) Of course, the Inn at 835 is a marvel of restoration, and it was a pleasure to visit it for the Gala (http://www.innat835.com/). Plus the food is very good too. Now for more spooky updates....... The Halloween season would not be complete without offering a pre-show scare at Clayville's Haunted House (http://www.clayville.org). Fortunately the night was clear, and cold, and the attendance was good for the night that I was there. I even started off by scaring some of the visitors by just getting into costume! One young lady let out a shriek when she saw something black moving in the shadows. I didn't spoil the moment by telling her it was just me pulling on a warm, black, robe. And, at least, that was not my only shivery offering - the stories gave a few more. I also had great fun by telling ghost stories at Montvale Estates last Friday. The seniors were really into the spirit of the holiday. I finished out the Halloween stories at the Dana Thomas House (http://www.dana-thomas.org/). They were again offering their Halloween event, which included docents telling of actual ghostly occurrences, and with me telling more traditional tales. It was a great evening, and one of the most lovely venues I have been in, since I was situated in the gallery. The audiences were steady and engaged. While I was delighted to have so many interested in my stories I was even more happy to see so many visiting such a intriguing house. I guess the spirits were content with my stories as I had no unusual visitations, but I know that the docents have had plenty of stories to share with the visitors. Someday I hope I can hear some of those stories too! And since it is All Hallow's Eve and the discussion has been of ghost stories it doesn't seem fair not to offer one here...... Two men were on a commuter train, with one gentleman reading, and the other looking out the window. Finally the reader gave a snort of disgust, and said, "I can't believe anyone would believe in such drivel about ghosts!" His seat partner said, "I take you don't believe in ghosts?" "No, of course not," answered the reader. "Too bad," said his companion, who promptly vanished. History has been my focus for the last month and a half, particularly since I have been a docent in training on Wednesdays at the Elijah Iles House (http://www.ileshouse.org/). I have really loved being able to immerse myself into the history of the house, and to help support it.
Late in September there was the History Meets the Arts for downtown Springfield. The opening, arranged by Sangamon Historical Society (http://sangamonhistory.org/) and the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum (http://www.alplm.org/), offered a viewing of Alison Davis Wood's documentary, "Lincoln: Prelude to the Presidency." This was a fascinating look at Lincoln as a circuit rider. It showed how his years as a circuit lawyer provided him both the training and the network of supporters to led to the presidency. For the first time ever I was able to attend U of I - Spfld's "Lunch and Learn" series; the topic for the afternoon was, "Chasing the American Dream to the Heartland." The program covered the Lithuanian and Latino immigrations to Illinois, and Springfield in particular, and was a powerful one since both speakers were first generation immigrants. Here is the url to Lithuanians in Springfield, IL. (http://lithspringfield.com/), which was mentioned in the program. There was also the Clayville Fall Festival, which was blessed with gorgeous weather. It was a joy to perform - as I had a shaded chair by the main track, and visitors often stopped to hear a tale. My only wish is that I had had more time to go really look at the additions to the Broadwell Inn. After I admired the new balcony and porch I managed to get a peek at the new ladies' parlor in the Inn. (http://clayville.org/home). The last few weeks have been one of launching new projects, with the main one being my new site - Tales of Sangamon (http://www.talesofsangamon).
I am hoping that with the site I can gather some of the stray stories and legends that exist in Sangamon County, and in the surrounding area. Over the years I have been given enough hints, via fragments of stories, to bolster my belief that others might be out there. The more I read the more I believe that the stories traveled through Illinois at some point. Just recently I have been reading Leonard Roberts' books, South from Hell-fer-Sartin and Old Greasybeard: Tales From the Cumberland Gap. One of the tales in the later book is, "The Man and the Devil's Daughter" is very similar to a story I found in one of Vance Randolph's books on Missouri Folklore. In both cases the story is a wonder tale about a traveler (of farmboy in the case of the Missouri folktale) who goes to work for a rich man, who turns out to be the Devil. The daughter takes a shine to the worker, and by magical means helps him complete 3 impossible tasks. She then flees with her boyfriend, and once safely away from her Pa she renounces her magical heritage to live a normal life. As always there are hints. Other projects that I have on the list include voice lessons, teaching myself Excell, and the rather bemusing occupation of rebuilding a lamp. (Its my favorite reading lamp, which is attached to a table, so I hate to get a new one.) As to the voice lessons I am hoping my instructor survives with some patience intact. She has some hope of disproving the belief that I am tone deaf, and so we are struggling to get me on the proper key. Granted, I have no belief that I will become a singer, but it is something new and interesting to learn, and hopefully will add to my vocal strength. I knew it had been a long time since I wrote, but I hadn't realized how long; nor can I blame it all on the scorching summer (though it does explain the last few weeks).
Nor has it been due to a lack of things to do - there have been many an interesting activity. So interesting that I still want to do an overview: April offered two fascinating events. The Sangamon County Historical Society (http://sangamonhistory.org/) offered a bus trip to the C. H. Moore Homestead (http://www.chmoorehomestead.org/) in Clinton, Illinois. The C. H. Moore house is a beautifully restored Victorian home, with exquisite furnishings, and material examples of the life of the time. The curator, Larry Buss, has a wealth of knowledge on the house and grounds, and along with the house's collection there is also the DeWitt County History Society's museum in the basement, three farm museums, a blacksmith shop, and a telephone exhibit. This fine outing was followed by the Springfield Art Association's "Titantic Tea." (http://www.springfieldart.org/) They had the Tea Ladies (http://www.thetealadiesinc.com/)back to host a tea party, which offered foods that would have been on the Titanic. The Tea Ladies then offered a brief history of the people on board, and asked that all those attendees of the tea party to read a card (or more) regarding some of the survivors. With the coming of May came both the Central Illinois Highland Games (http://www.central-illinois-standrewsociety.com/)and the precursor to the heat), and Clayville's Spring Festival (http://www.clayville.org/). Both were as fun to perform at as always. The increase in the heat did cut into the performing schedule, with Clayville not having their usual July activities, and the Elijah Iles House (http://www.ileshouse.org/)cancelling their Strawberry Festival, but I have not been idle. During this time I have decided to launch Tales of Sangamon (http://www.talesofsangamon.com/), which is a website devoted to collecting stories of Sangamon County, and the surrounding area. I am truly excited about the site, and hope that some will use it so that stories of the area can be documented, since there is so little Illinois lore in print. This holiday season has had me pondering traditions, and the challenges of keeping them.
In early December I went to a Christmas Tea at the Edwards Place (http://www.springfieldart.org/), which had The Tea Ladies (http://thetealadiesinc.com/index.html) present a program on Victorian Christmas customs. It was a lovely program, and I was fascinated to learn how long it took to make a plum pudding (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_pudding), since plum pudding was part of my mother's family traditions. The program came to mind again when a friend and I were talking about the mad pace of the holiday season, and the demands of family gatherings. And it dawned on me that along with the commercialism of the season, and the increased demands to be "festive" at various gatherings (family, friends, or work), that some of the stress might come from the fact that many of the traditions we carry on were born at a time when many families had a servant or two to help. Along with the fact that the expectations of presents were usually much simpler. But I would not be one to argue for getting rid of traditions. They are often our tie to our past, and the family that has gone before. A fact that was truly brought home to me this holiday. Once my Christmas was more or less likely many others' - with the joys of decorating a tree, and the gathering of presents for special people, and the bustle of my parents in the kitchen preparing for the family gathering. And always there was the plum pudding and brandied hard sauce, the putting up of the new Scotch heather, and the burning of the bayberry candle; both the Scotch heather and the bayberry candle were for "health, wealth, and happiness." These givens continued even after it came down to just Mother and I, which we still enjoyed in the glow of tree lights. Now it is down to myself and two young hounds. The tree, the lights, and even the Scotch heather are gone, and while I had hopes of plum pudding it too was impossible when the grocery stopped carrying it. So it was down to the bayberry candle, which was to be burnt to the socket between Christmas and New Year. (http://www.ehow.com/about_5057238_bayberry-candle-signify.html) And even this I debated. The last couple of years I had to battle to keep the candle burning, which really bemused me. The candles had been made by a known company, and yet, it turned out, that the bayberry wax was around a core of inferior wax. Plus, with the pups at hand, the only safe place to burn the candle for a long space of time was the bathtub. Somehow, though, I could not give up that one tradition - one that my mother had carried on after it had been handed down to her by her father. So I rummaged in the closet, and found that I only had a few candles left, by a different company, and after picking one I settled it in the bathtub. I will admit that doing so brought me a little amusement, and an acknowledgement of the lengths I actually would go to continue a tradition. The candle burnt true, and before the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve it was to the socket. On a related theme of Christmas traditions, and the keeping of them, I have to mention a little book I found. Not too long before Christmas I felt the need to stop in at the Widow at Windsor antique shop, though I usually only look at their displays. However, the shop is always fascinated, and I had a moment, so I gave into the impulse. And it wasn't until I was leaving that I found what I had come to get - a tiny book entitled The Message of the Bells: Or What Happened To Us on Christmas, by Hendrik Willem Van Loon. The illustrations alone were worth the price, but I was also intrigued by the story. I was vaguely familiar with Hendrik Van Loon, since my father left me a copy of his The Story of Mankind, but I knew little else of him. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hendrik_Willem_van_Loon The story of the little book centered around a Christmas that he and his wife were sharing with their children and grandchildren. Van Loon's youngest son, along with his nephews, had arranged a surprise for Henrik and his wife - the traditional arrival of the Three Wise Men. They did this to let Hendrik and his wife have tiny taste of home. A home in the Netherlands being torn by WW II. As they prepared to light the outdoor Christmas tree the grandchildren wanted to know more about their grandparents' homes, and Christmases. Henrik told them a little, but added that even the bells of Veere were silent now. It was then that all of them heard bells, but not to them American bells; to Henrik Van Loon and his wife they heard the Bells of Veere ringing clear - across oceans and maybe time. And whether his children and grandchildren heard the same bells it was such a strange occurrence that they created this beautiful little book about it. Over the last few months shows have been woven between household projects; a good portion of my preparations having been done after chasing down the youngest hound (a four-legged Ms. Houdini), or listening to the pounding of the roofer. The one constant thread has been the wonderful weather for all of the outside events.
I began the Fall season with Hope School's Fall Festival and Lincoln Memorial Garden's Indian Summer Festival. While I will admit that animals will upstage you every time I didn't mind being placed near the pony ring at the Hope School Fall Festival. To see the joy on the children's faces as they rode the ring was more than worth it, since, for many, that was one of their few, grand, adventures. And the one story I did get to tell offered me another treasure - the little boy's mother said, "I've never seen him sit so long, and pay attention." At the Lincoln Memorial Garden's Indian Summer Festival I was placed in the children's area with my two puppets - Kit, the fox, and Rupert, the squirrel. I had many willing listeners, but Kit and Rupert stole the scene (even if they are puppets), and they oft got petted. Or kissed gently on their noses. The season of All Hallow's began with Clayville's haunted house, and I had the pleasure of doing two Saturday nights at the bonfire. This is the time when even the adults are willing to suspend belief and settle in for a tale. And from those two nights I have a couple of moments that stand out ... The first began when a young lady came to see how long I'd be telling; then later, after the haunted house, she came back for a tale. She had said that she had been really scared in the house so I asked her how scary did she want the tale. She held out her hands, barely inches apart, and said, "This scary." After "Tam Lin," she asked for another; again I asked her how scary. And she widened her hands, and said, "This much." The other moment came when I had gone to the concession stand for some more coffee. I was dressed in a large black opera coat, which is very shapeless on me (though warm). And nearby was one of the volunteers, in shapeless, ragged, "witch's" costume. My friend saw a child point at me, and exclaim, "That's the witch!" To which Amanda said, "No, that's the storyteller." The child considered this, and exclaimed, even more loudly, "The storyteller's a Witch!!!!" And of all my Fall shows, each wonderful and special, the one that made me very grateful for my ability to weave stories was when I did a Halloween show for Hope School. What was to be a half hour show turned into an hour, and for most of that the Hope School residents were caught in the stories. I couldn't ask for a better night. The heat of summer has made reading in a cool house very appealing, and between efforts to amuse very bored, young, coon hounds I have endeavored to focus on useful material.
The two books that have proved informative have been: Charlotte Erickson's Invisible Immigrants: The Adaptation of English and Scottish Immigrants in 19th Century America; and Robert Mazrim's The Sangamo Frontier: History & Archaeology in the Shadow of Lincoln. Invisible Immigrants offers several sets of family letters that span the century, and they also span a wide range of social backgrounds and motivations. Charlotte Erickson also offers good overviews to the letters' contexts in terms of family history and economic background. While the book was published in 1972 it still is an excellent book to have if you are interested in hearing the "voices" from the past. The only thing I could have wished for would have been more women being represented, and maybe some of the responses from England and Scotland. I have to consider The Sangamo Frontier a "gold mine" of information. Robert Mazrim has a gift for words, and weaves history and archaeology into a very readable book. However, beyond that, he offers one of the best overviews of the history of the area I have ever read. What particularly fascinated me was his discussion of "Edwards Trace" (http://www.sancohis.org/OLDER%20FILES/trace.htm), and what is being learned of its long history. Robert Mazrim's commentary on the Trace truly brings its import to life. He also offers such nuggets as the fact that "groceries" were blamed for luring young men to drink. He points out that while dry good stores and groceries both sold a range of goods, and liquor, but that it was to the groceries that the young bucks went for a wild time. Other points of interest are such offerings as the fact that good tea cups and saucers often turn up in even the most rural and rustic site. And I will fully admit that I am only half way through the book. So I am sure I will have more to add later. Though this probably also should be called, "From Memorial Day to 4th of July," and it admittedly has a touch of "Story Musing." While not intentional, since I kept hoping to write sooner, I seem to have managed a thematic framework in terms of dates. On Memorial Day Springfield had the opportunity to recognize a long-forgotten hero, Leroy Key, who was buried out at Oakridge Cemetery. For the expanded story here are links to two Illinois State Journal-Register articles: (http://www.sj-r.com/top-stories/x487935511/Dave-Bakke-Civil-War-buffs-find-grave-of-Andersonville-prisoner-in-Springfield) and (http://www.sj-r.com/top-stories/x1555987949/Dave-Bakke-Hero-of-Civil-Wars-Andersonville-prison-to-get-grave-marker-at-Oak-Ridge). What better way to recognize Memorial Day then to awaken the memory of a man who had long been lost and forgotten. A man who not only survived the horrors of Andersonville Prison, but organized against the Raiders - men who preyed on fellow prisoners. Yet a man who had to carry the weight of his actions as he was the one to supervise the trial, and execution of these Raiders - men who were also Union soldiers. And that weight, plus health issues, may have led to his suicide in 1880. Over a century later who is to say. Author Frank Crawford, and his brother John Crawford, found the grave, which lacked a tombstone, while researching, Proud to Say I am a Union Soldier: The Last Letters Home from Federal Soldiers Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865. The day for the unveiling of the stone was a perfect day, crystaline skies, with fluffy clouds, and though warm it was not so hot as to be stifling. And for whatever spirits might linger at Oakridge, particularly Mr Key, and the other civil war veterans, the scene would have seemed reminiscent of the early Memorial Days. The Municipal Band played, and with the fine outfitting of the 114h Regiment Reactivated and the 10th Illinois Volunteer Cavalry Regiment Reactivated, and the ladies of the Aid Society, the scene could have been cut from a hundred years past. The speeches were very moving, and as was fitting for Memorial Day, the ceremony bound together a recognition of all of our veterans. I was also privately proud of my Treeing Walker Coonhound, Winston, as he proved as calm as ever as the 21 gun salute went off. (To be accurate - he slept through it.) I know it sounds strange that I brought my dog with me, but Winston has already proved unaffected by loud sounds (he gets bored with bagpipes, and gets even more bored being home), and I have hopes he can train as a therapy dog due to his patience and gentle temperament. He's come a long way from being the nervous young hound that I brought home from the Animal Protective League. My silence of the month actually stems from other canine activity, since I also added a 3 month old coonhound mix, Fiona, from Animal Control. I, however, will admit that I should never name anything when tired, since I later learned that "fiona" means "white" or fair," and the pup is nearly all black. On July 1st I performed at the Elijah Iles House, "Clara Irwin's Strawberry Party." (http://iles-house.blogspot.com/) This is always a delight to perform at. While the weather the was hot the evening was clear, and I was out under the tent. This makes for a very casual time for telling as families would come out so their children could try their hands at marbles, checkers, or ring toss. And soon they would settle for story or three, and a little discussion of history. Nor was an offer of strawberry shortcake turned down. |
Cathy Mosley
I am a Springfield, IL based storyteller with a fascination for how folklore travels, and for history. Archives
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