Monday, September 24, 2012

The Stories We Tell

Mushrooms are a sure sign of summer departing. Yesterday we had our first rainfall which was more like the sky spitting a little than anything.  Still. It rained.  I went out for a walk, looking for a little more yellow and orange in the trees but those colors have not quite arrived yet in our hood.  Soon, no doubt. 

When I see mushrooms, I think of my son. When he was little, I liked to spark his imagination so I told him that families of little trolls lived under mushrooms. It prevented him from kicking them and smashing them to smithereens. And, it's a myth that really stuck in his head because he mentions it when I see him.  
 
Which reminds me of the stories my mom and grandmother used to tell me. The one that comes to mind is my grandmother telling me that I would wet the bed if I played in the fire. She had an old cast-iron wood stove. When my sister and I would go to stay with her, my favorite thing to do was stoke the fire. I am, to this day, mesmerized by hot coals. I love to watch them breath. And, it makes me think of my grandmother and her ridiculous but effective antidote for keeping me out of the fire.
 
A story mom told me was that eating raw potatoes would give me worms. I grew up in Alaska and we pretty much lived paycheck to paycheck. Groceries were high, even then, and I loved eating raw potatoes. Mom would be in the kitchen peeling taters and I'd grab one and the shaker of salt. It was better than any snack food I could think of. More than the high cost of groceries, I know now she just got tired of peeling potatoes and told me that whopper of a story to keep me out of them. I believed it for a long time. Oddly enough, I think of her when I peel potatoes.
 
Story telling must run in my family .....
 
I'm sure there are other "stories" but they'll have to wait for another post.  Did your folks tell you a story or two?
 
love, susan
 
 

4 comments:

  1. My story was effective at the time. I was being bad and my father would not spank me. After a while he resorted to an extreme measure. He tied me to a tree and left me. I will never never forget this. It was worse than any spanking I ever got. Now when I think of it LOVE comes to mind. He loved me so much he could not and would not spank me but wanted the best from me.

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    1. Haha! Justin only got one spankin' his whole life! You both turned out just fine. I'm with your dad ... no need for violence in the world, we have enough of it. I don't believe hitting children (and calling it spanking) is necessary.

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  2. The kids and I loved the mushroom picture, as if taken from the viewpoint of the trolls living down below.

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  3. I agree with Csamom {above } ! Indeed it looks like as if the mushroom picture is taken from the perspective of the trolls. I loved reading about the stories that were being told from generation to generation in your family...simple and innocent stories,yet so effective ! Thanks for sharing these stories. Just reading them made me so emotional....

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