My grandmother didn’t bake cookies or play games with me because she couldn’t. But she could and did tell the most wonderful oral stories.
That’s quite different from someone who writes out their stories. I know, because I’ve tried it both ways. With writing, you have the luxury of stopping mid-sentence and thinking about what comes next. You can change your mind, erase whole paragraphs, and start over. An oral story must flow, one idea to the next, each one permanent once it’s been pronounced. I think the oral version is harder, so, even though Grandma died 56 years ago, I look back in admiration at the worlds she created, first for her children, then her grandchildren.
Grandma’s stories were peopled with friends for my cousin Karen and me. Some of the characters were handed down from the stories she’d told my mother, others were new additions. Some of them…
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