Multiple connections, constructed on a common foundation

A major revelation I received during last week’s institute with Shonaleigh was confirmed by David today in his closing remarks about the differences between personal and folk/traditional stories.

 

I have long told myself and others, “I don’t like personal stories.  I don’t do personal stories”.   Too many strike me as little more than pointless exhibitionism, and remind me of “Queen for a Day”, a television game show popular in my youth which I’m convinced was the first story slam.  Contestants on “Queen for a Day” were housewives who told personal stories of loss and woe – g-rated of course in the 1950s, no stories about cheating husbands, abuse or addiction - which the audience voted on at the end of the show.  The teller of the sob story that received the most votes was crowned and typically received the prize of new appliances, to thunderous applause from the studio audience.  I hated that show because of the contestants’ monstrous need for public pity, and willingness to discard pride and privacy to parade their personal travails before a national audience.  I’ve heard too many contemporary personal stories that echo those housewives’ desire to win the Olympics of Suffering. 

Shonaleigh, and now David, have guided me to understand why I’ve encountered some personal  stories that do resonate for me.  These are the personal stories that are built upon a traditional foundation, that borrow imagery, motif, trope from folktales, fairy and wonder tales, myth and epic.  They are more than a plea for attention.  They carry the deep learning of traditional  tales, ignite a flare of understanding that illuminates the human condition.  Today I believe that folk tales, fairy tales, wonder tales were once someone’s personal story; or inspired by a personal story; or have been crafted from scenes in many personal stories, and the truth they reveal explains why they are still told among us, carried into this century from the basement of time (to borrow a phrase from Norman Maclean).  I heard some of those everlasting themes in the stories we shared in class today.

Here are some of my observations about today’s stories and their connections.  If you consider that the break divided the class into two “sets”, I noticed that both sets followed the same pattern.  Both began with two traditional stories, then switched to other types.  In the first set, traditional stories were followed by original stories that borrowed imagery or motif from traditional stories,  and then moved to personal story.  The second set began with two traditional stories, then moved to personal stories.   A trope  common to many of today’s stories was “the gaining of wisdom”.

Set one began with Laurina and Cynthia’s animal stories, the first a pourquoi story, the second a story of outwitting a crafty adversary, both using non-human protagonists to reflect on human attributes and values.  Dwayne’s “Creeper” story, a glimpse into gaming, started to lead us out of traditional tales, but seemed built on the folk motif of the stupid giant, and was situated in an imagined world .  So was Bill’s “IT guy” poem, that borrowed liberally from wonder tales and children’s story imagery, and revealed the monster to be another dim giant.  Yet it carried a contemporary and adult message in its imagery, involving assumptions, the all-too-human-fear of differences, communication, tolerance. 

 Joy’s Lower East Side story was a  masked personal story that borrowed traditional fairy tale imagery and seemed like it occurred in an imagined world; but in hallway conversation, Joy disclosed that she was Miriam, a hint that personal experience lay within her story of finding a new grandmother/fairy godmother figure.  The next grandmother heard from, Wennie, told the morning’s first personal story which was a gaining of wisdom tale set at her dining room table. 

I began the second set with a folktale, followed by Idilio’s folktale, both bearing insight into human frailties through mistakes made and lessons learned (too late, in the woodcutter’s case).    Perhaps the first set’s gradual journey towards personal story prompted Patty to share her personal story next, although she mentioned it had a connection with my story but didn’t share it.  Could the connection have been the protagonists’  faulty judgment, lessons learned late? 

Bob’s personal story was a modern remodeling of “The Call to Adventure”, the first step of Campbell’s Hero’s Journey.   Hero Bob, hung over,  blunders into an unknown world that calls him to a new adventure, a new destiny.  Mr. Chase was his herald;  the monstrous dog Bear, whose fearsome breath Bob needed to withstand to answer the call, reminded me of Cerberus, the dog-headed guardian of the Underworld, which  we know is a place of transformation.  After that solemn story, Amy provided an apt dose of wisdom delivered by a trickster-like character, an apparent fool who outwits “wiser” folk.  Her story helped prepare a path for the two wisdom stories garbed in gentle humor that followed.

Tzitel ended our morning with her upbeat, humorous “Silent Letter Society” tale that seemed to borrow from tall tale tradition.  Somehow, the group either intuited, or planned as the stories unfolded, a journey through many emotional landscapes that began on a light note, gradually gained gravitas, then returned us to levity and release; but each story held a pearl in its depths, no matter what its shape and garb. 

I  look forward to continuing our journey together.  

Cathy aka CatFur