SUBMITTED by Carol Elaine Deys, Para-Deys Acres Serenity Chapel (20-Jul-2011)
I have been thinking about the art of storytelling, and how important it is that we continue to tell our stories. Sometimes expanded upon by the passing of time, never the less they are not only important to the writer and the reader, but also the listener, too. History has a way of marking time for us. In the presentation of our own personal histories and / or stories of our times, we are "catching the words" so that others may also taste and even smell the rewards of knowing the past.
My mother was a Story Teller. She loved books, and one of my first memories is walking hand in hand with my twin brother, Bob, guided by my Mom past the big Kodak Park buildings and way down to the area of Ridge Road and Lake Avenue in Rochester, long before the expressways intervened. I remember the fragrance of the library around the corner from there, and the excitement in my spirit as I rediscovered many old friends in the picture book section of the children's domain. I remember the slanted little book tables where we placed chosen books, and thoroughly digested the wonders within. I remember the bright colors, a book about triplets ("Flicka, Ricka and Dicka") and when it was time to walk back home--a good two or three miles--we gathered our new choices and started for the desk, proud to be heavy with such treasures in hand. Such a time to remember.
This morning my husband and I finished reading "Adirondack French Louie - Early Life in the North Woods" by Harvey L. Dunham. With tears streaming down our cheeks, coming from our own collective memories of life in a softer time, we shared the last page. Together we moved on to our daily plan, remembering that someone had taken the time to share one man's story and the effect it had on the whole North Country area and us.
Our dear friend, John at Books, ETC. introduced us one Sunday to Mr. Larry Weill, Wilderness Park Ranger in the Adirondacks and storyteller of expansive decree which includes his "Pardon Me, There's a Moose in your Tent" as one of his chosen venues. Through the efforts of John and Larry, we found French Louie. I also found a hopeful connecting link to my family tree, Mr. Henry Shepard of Gray, New York.
A few weeks ago, a dear Quaker F/friend Elaine came to share popcorn and ginger ale with me. We must have shared stories for at least three hours, and this time--it was different. Elaine had come to say "goodbye" and in words that today have much more meaning to me, she told me so. Her story and mine meshed that day in a place that has no death, and I shall treasure forever the joy it brought to my life. Elaine passed about ten days later. She was my sister / friend and I shall deeply miss her.
Treasure the times you have together within this physical life. Gain strength of purpose by sharing your stories with your families, your friends and those you meet along the way. Give them time to share their stories, and together we shall create a strong, extended family base that cannot be broken by time, wars or death. A new world is transforming here, right upon the lands on which we walk. It is up to us how this shall occur. Perhaps I do live in a world of rose-colored glasses, but perhaps--because I have lived in other worlds--I do know the difference. I will take every blessing that comes my way, and celebrate its potential in my life. Serenity Chapel is not only a place of peace in our own garden but also a place of spiritual intent...to share my story, your story, and all that is good in this world with others.
Take precious care, Carol Elaine Deys
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
I have been thinking about the art of storytelling, and how important it is that we continue to tell our stories. Sometimes expanded upon by the passing of time, never the less they are not only important to the writer and the reader, but also the listener, too. History has a way of marking time for us. In the presentation of our own personal histories and / or stories of our times, we are "catching the words" so that others may also taste and even smell the rewards of knowing the past.
My mother was a Story Teller. She loved books, and one of my first memories is walking hand in hand with my twin brother, Bob, guided by my Mom past the big Kodak Park buildings and way down to the area of Ridge Road and Lake Avenue in Rochester, long before the expressways intervened. I remember the fragrance of the library around the corner from there, and the excitement in my spirit as I rediscovered many old friends in the picture book section of the children's domain. I remember the slanted little book tables where we placed chosen books, and thoroughly digested the wonders within. I remember the bright colors, a book about triplets ("Flicka, Ricka and Dicka") and when it was time to walk back home--a good two or three miles--we gathered our new choices and started for the desk, proud to be heavy with such treasures in hand. Such a time to remember.
This morning my husband and I finished reading "Adirondack French Louie - Early Life in the North Woods" by Harvey L. Dunham. With tears streaming down our cheeks, coming from our own collective memories of life in a softer time, we shared the last page. Together we moved on to our daily plan, remembering that someone had taken the time to share one man's story and the effect it had on the whole North Country area and us.
Our dear friend, John at Books, ETC. introduced us one Sunday to Mr. Larry Weill, Wilderness Park Ranger in the Adirondacks and storyteller of expansive decree which includes his "Pardon Me, There's a Moose in your Tent" as one of his chosen venues. Through the efforts of John and Larry, we found French Louie. I also found a hopeful connecting link to my family tree, Mr. Henry Shepard of Gray, New York.
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| Peace in the Garden at Serenity Chapel |
Treasure the times you have together within this physical life. Gain strength of purpose by sharing your stories with your families, your friends and those you meet along the way. Give them time to share their stories, and together we shall create a strong, extended family base that cannot be broken by time, wars or death. A new world is transforming here, right upon the lands on which we walk. It is up to us how this shall occur. Perhaps I do live in a world of rose-colored glasses, but perhaps--because I have lived in other worlds--I do know the difference. I will take every blessing that comes my way, and celebrate its potential in my life. Serenity Chapel is not only a place of peace in our own garden but also a place of spiritual intent...to share my story, your story, and all that is good in this world with others.
Take precious care, Carol Elaine Deys
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
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Anonymous Said,
I read to the last paragraph and I, too, have tears in my eyes. A joyous reading! Love,
John
Posted on Fri Jul 22, 08:45:00 AM EDT