Good evening and welcome to the Monroe County Public Library. My name is Sarah Bowman and I work in
the Adult and Teen Services Department and welcome to both the Monroe County Public Library and this
evening's Wintertelling program. This is an annual program. We usually do a Friday after hours in February,
a better time to get out and listen to some stories. What a few kind of
Details that I want to get through first, if you have cell phones, if you could turn them off or silent
so they don't interrupt any of our wonderful storytellers as they're telling this evening. Also, immediately
after the stories, and I think everybody has a blue sheeted program, immediately following the stories,
we're going to have refreshments on stage.
like cookies and milk. And decaf coffee for Stephanie, wherever she is. So you're welcome. You're invited
to come up on stage and talk to your favorite storytellers and tell them what an excellent job they did.
So that will be immediately following. This is recorded by CATS, so we'd like to thank them for stopping
by and recording for us. So it's going to be played on the CATS stations. You can check CATSTV.net for
the schedule in case you want to watch the stories again.
And it's kind of fun to flip through a year later and see some of the old stories. So again, I'd like
to welcome you. And right now, I'm going to pass it over to Dana Burton, who's going to tell you a little
bit about the Friends of the Library, who sponsor programs like this. Thank you. I've come
with an announcement. And that is that February is Love Your Library Month. Who knew?
But we want you to know, and it occurs to me that a lot of people in this room probably consider themselves
friends of libraries, but the Monroe County Public Library Friends of the Library would like to encourage
you to declare officially your friendship and consider a membership to the Monroe County Public Library
Friends of the Library.
We hope that in February this would be a great time to kind of think about doing that. If you're already
a friend and you don't think you need to join again right now or renew, we also would like you to know
that they now have a gift membership package. So if you have a friend who's a book lover, somebody who's
passionate about libraries in your family or in your work space, or a newcomer in your neighborhood
or workplace,
we would encourage you to consider this would be the best time to send or take a gift membership package
to them and encourage them to become officially a friend of the Monroe County Library this February.
So hope you'll consider it. We'll be out of the hallway with some more information about the gift packages
and what comes with those as well as the party that's involved. So talk to us later.
When the days are short and the nights are long and summer is just a distant memory and the cold, dark
snow of winter seems like an ever-present reality, it is a time to gather
to listen to stories. The Bloomington Storytellers Guild members tell a number of different kinds of
stories. You'll be hearing a personal narrative tonight. And some of us, many of us will be telling
stories that come before our time, stories from the cold, dark,
sack of memory and will bring those treasures out to listen to them, to look at them, and to learn the
message again of the stories of our mothers, our fathers, our ancestors. And we hope you'll take away a story
that you can tell and pass that story along, because there are many, many treasures that we'll be sharing
with you tonight. First on our program is Lisa Ciampelli, and she'll be telling a story about fire on
the mountain
Thank you, Patty. My name is Lisa. And I grew up in the Chicago area, the Windy City, where winters
would start, unfailingly, on Halloween. I don't think I wore a Halloween costume as a kid where I didn't
also have my winter coat on. And they would continue right on through April, where you would still have
the hard, dirty, gray snow pushed along the curb at Easter time. And there was no such thing as snow days
no school cancellations in the Chicago area. You could have snow hip deep and you're gonna be walking
there uphill and an uphill home again most likely. So you would think that a girl who grew up in the
Chicago area would be able to manage the relatively mild winters of southern Indiana. And at first that
was the case. But after 15 years of living in southern Indiana now,
I find that I no longer have the mental fortitude to deal with the extreme cold like we have
been experiencing this unusually cold for southern Indiana winter. So I can manage with an ice storm
every now and then, but it's supposed to melt after a day or two, not turn your driveway into a permanent
skating rink. And I just found that I do not have the stamina
nor the supply of long underwear to deal with these below freezing temperatures on extended basis. And
I found myself thinking how and feeling grateful when the power went out briefly one night that at least
I had shelter and a wood stove. And I found myself thinking about those who have no shelter and wondering
how they have been managing to survive out in the cold, especially on the very bitter below zero nights
that we've experienced.
And then I found myself thinking about this folktale from Ethiopia that is called Fire on the Mountain.
In the high and beautiful mountains of Ethiopia, there lived a boy named Ali Mayu. And every day, Ali
Mayu would hike up into the mountains to watch over his uncle's sheep. While the sheep were grazing,
he would seek out a rock to try to shelter himself from the fierce winds
And he would sit down, and he would take out his flute, and he would play, and he would think of someday.
Someday, he would say to himself, someday I will have a bag of money, and I will be able to buy warm
clothes, and I will have enough food to share. And while Ali Mayu dreamed of someday, his real life
was very hard.
He went daily into the mountains with the sheep to guide them, enduring the sharp winds and making sure
that they would make it home again at night. And his life became even more difficult when one year both
of his parents died when disease swept through the village. After that, he packed up his few belongings,
a little bit of food, an extra cloak, and his flute, and he went in search of where his sister was working
in the home of a rich man. She worked as a cook for him.
And so he walked down the winding paths down from the mountains. And he watched as the paths became
wider and wider and flatter and smoother, indicating that it was nearing the home of a rich man. And
when he was still some distance from the home, his sister came running out to greet him. And she kissed
him on both cheeks. And she cried with him as he shared the sad news of their parents' death. And she
invited him to stay. Come and live here. And perhaps you can earn a few coins by watching over the rich
man's cows.
And so Ali Mayu became a watcher of cows. And he also watched the rich man. For every day, the rich
man would go by him where he was tending the cows in the fields. The rich man was riding on a mule and
riding into the village. And behind him, he would have a procession of servants. There was one who was
holding an umbrella to shade him from the sun and others carrying baskets of food and then a small boy
at the end who would be swishing the flies away.
And Ali Mayu watched them and saw how quiet they were. He never heard the rich man say a word, either
coming or going, until one day, one late afternoon, everyone could hear the rich man returning from
the village, for he was shouting and bellowing about some injustice that had been done to him that day.
Am I not the master of my own household? he shouted to anyone who was within a hearing distance.
Ali Mayu's sister signaled to him and asked him to come in and help her chop onions because the master
was in such a temper that she needed to prepare his mule quickly. And so they could easily hear as he
continued bellowing, why, am I not the bravest and strongest man around? You know, there was one night,
one night when I became lost in the high mountains and I had to get down off of my mule and stand against
it to keep warm. And that is how I managed to survive the night and live to tell the tale.
Now is there anyone else here as strong and as brave as that? All of the servants just kept their heads
down and continued working. But Ali Mayu spoke up and he said, why sir, there was many a night when
I was tending my uncle's sheep that I had to stay in the high mountains overnight and I endured the
bitter colds with just a thin cloak to keep me warm. Well the rich man just stared at him. Are you trying
to make me angrier?
No, said Alemayo, I just speak the truth. You speak the truth. Well, we'll see about that. If it is,
if you have done as you say, then you will do it again tonight. You will go up into the high mountains
and you will take nothing with you but your thin Shema, your cloak, to keep you warm. And if you are
able to survive the night, if you do not come crawling down in the middle of the night, then I will
reward you. I will give you a bag of money.
and four cows for your very own. All right, Ali Mayu agreed. Wait, do not bite unless you are prepared
to swallow. If you do not survive, if you are not able to last the night in the bitter cold, then when
you return, you and your sister will lose your jobs and you'll be forced to leave, never come back.
Now Ali Mayu was not
meaning to endanger his sister's welfare as well. But he saw no way out, and so he nodded in agreement.
And that night his sister kissed him goodbye and watched as he set off for the high mountains, bringing
with him just his thin cloak and his flute. And as he walked up into the hills, the winds became louder,
whistling through the rocks. And at first,
He played his flute to try to drown out the sound of the winds and to try to distract himself from how
cold it was. But the winds were able to sing louder than his flute. And he found that they were biting
into his cheeks and stinging his eyes until they teared so that he was forced to peer out into the distance
by squinting only. And when the winds whirled around his feet, he tried crouching smaller, making himself
as small as possible to see if that thin shema could
could cover his whole body somehow to keep himself warm, but it could not. And as he clutched the shawl
about him, his hands grew numb with cold and he was soon shivering so hard that he could barely think.
Now the rich man was in his home comfortably feasting and drinking and laughing and boasting and listening
for the sound of Ali Mayu to come crawling back down from the mountain.
But he did not hear any sound until morning, when Ali Mayu's sister shouted, because there, coming through
the fog, was Ali Mayu. And the rich man ran out, and Ali Mayu walked toward him and said, it was so
fiercely bitter cold on the high mountains last night. When all became completely dark, I feared that
I would die of cold. But then I saw, on a distant mountain across the way, I saw that another,
Shepherd had built a fire, and so I just focused. I looked at the red glowing embers of that distant
fire, and I dreamed of what it felt like to be warm. And that is how I was able to survive. That is
how I had the strength to stay on the mountain last night. The rich man looked at him and scoffed. Well,
you have cheated.
You do not get the reward. In the morning, you must leave." Ali Mayu was shocked, and the other servants
turned and looked at each other in surprise. I don't understand, Ali Mayu said. Well, you have cheated.
Looking at a fire on another mountain is the same as building a fire to keep yourself warm. Ali Mayu
was stunned, and he just walked away into his sister's room to try and get warm.
And the rich man clapped his hands and said, come now, prepare a great feast. I will be going to the
village and returning with my friends who will celebrate my victory with me. You and your sister, he
said to Ali Mayu, you may stay and enjoy the feast with me, but by morning you must be gone. And the
rich man left. And Ali Mayu's sister turned to the other servants and began whispering with them. And
the whispers ran like water throughout the house that day.
So when the rich man returned in the late afternoon with his friends, the smells that greeted them were
almost overwhelming. The aroma of the most delicious foods came wafting from the back of the house where
the kitchen was, and they were surrounded by the scent of their favorite foods. And the servants greeted
them and brought them into the dining area, and they gave them water to wash their hands.
but they did not present them with any food to eat. And so the rich man sat down with his friends and
waited, and the smells became stronger and stronger. They were so strong that they were like loud music,
so powerful. And the rich man's stomach began to grumble, and their mouths were watering because the
scents were so tantalizing.
And he grew impatient and he saw a servant standing by the wall holding a stringed instrument.
And he said, you there, play for us so that we might be entertained while we wait for our food to be
served. And the servant lifted the instrument and he moved his fingers above the strings, but he did
not actually touch the strings or make any sound. And just then Ali Mayu's sister arrived at their table
and bowed to the rich man and his friends and said, I hope
that you have enjoyed this fine meal that we have prepared for you. All of your favorite foods and the
finest music. And the rich man just looked at her and shouted, what are you talking about? All evening
I have been tantalized by the most delicious aromas, but we have been served no food to eat. We have
had nothing and there has been no music playing. And she said, well, you have smelled the foods and, and,
Certainly you could imagine how beautiful the music would sound. Isn't that enough to satisfy you?"
And the rich man again shouted at her. Who would possibly think that the smells of food would be able
to satisfy the hunger in a man's stomach? And Ali Mayi's sister replied, why, I would think that the
same person who believes that looking at a fire would be enough
to keep a boy warm. Now the servants tried to hide their smiles, but Ali Mayu's friends laughed and
they said, she's right. And the rich man said nothing, but he scowled. And in the morning, he presented
Ali Mayu with a bag of money and four cows. And so Ali Mayu became a herder of cows and his herd grew
and he became wealthy of his own.
And soon it was Ali Mayu who was riding on the mule into town, into the village. And he had his servants
walking and talking with him and laughing as they carried great baskets filled with food that they shared
with everyone in the market. And Ali Mayu's sister came and lived with him. And as she grew older, she
grew even wiser. And people from around the surrounding villages would come to her for advice and to
hear the story of the fire on the mountain.
What do you say? Is that gonna work? Good. All over the world,
People love foolishness. And there are stories about fools all over the world, from Baba Yaga to Old
Man Coyote, from Teal Eulenspiegel to, oh, I don't know, Loro and Hardy. And in the Muslim world, there's
a wonderful fool called the Mullah Nasruddin.
And I love the Nasruddin stories, but I have never told them in public before because it's not my culture.
And I would not hurt anyone's feelings for the world. But this winter, I found a website called The
Laughing Muslim from an American Muslim named Edward Ott. It's a collection of Muslim humor, and he said,
How can we live at peace in the world together if we can't even laugh at each other's jokes? So tonight,
I'm going to take him up on it and tell you five stories of the amazing Mullah Nasruddin. Now, as I
understand it, a mullah is like the village wise man, and I use the term man intentionally, somebody
who is educated and knows the great books and can interpret the culture to the people. A fine city like
Bloomington might have a dozen mullahs, each one wiser than the next. But in the little village that
the mullah Nasruddin served, there was only him. And there was always some question of just what the
nature of his wisdom might be.
One time, the men of the village came to him and they said, we want you to teach us. You're supposed
to teach us. And they brought him down to the masjid on Friday and they all sat around him and they
said, teach us something. And he stood and looked at them. He said, do any of you know what I should
tell you? And they said, no, no.
And he said, well, you're too ignorant. You wouldn't understand anything I would have to say. And he
went home. So the next Friday, they came back for him. And they escorted him down to the mosque, to
the masjid. And they all sat on the floor. And he said, well, do any of you know what I should tell
you? Now, they knew that question now. And they said, yes, yes, Mullah Nasruddin. And he said,
Well, if you know it, why should I have to tell you again?" And went home. Oh, you're an easy audience.
So the next Friday, they came and got him again. And they all sat on the floor and looked up at him,
and he said, well, do any of you know what I should tell you? And they had planned this carefully. Half
of them said, yes, yes, we know. And the other half said, no, no, no, we don't know.
So he told them, the half of you that don't know what I should say, you listen very carefully. And the
half of you that do know what I should say, you tell them. And he went home. One of the neighbors came
to him and said, you are so wise, Mullah Nasruddin. These people just want to share your wisdom.
Why won't you teach us? And the mullah said, wisdom is like a carrot. The best part of it is underground.
And you have to dig and dig and dig to get it up. And then once you get it up, you still have to chew
and chew to get any good out of it. And the minute you start to chew it,
Every donkey in the village wants to share it with you. The mullah loved his donkey. He had a little
donkey and he rode it everywhere. If you ever see a picture of him, you'll see he's on his donkey, sometimes
backwards. He had occasion to go to a neighboring village that was a Christian village. And while he
was there, they were having a wedding.
And the mullah watched very carefully. This was interesting. The pictures in the church, the incense,
the clothes, the music, the food, all very interesting. And when he came back to his own village, he
went to the teahouse and he told them all about it. They had never seen a Christian wedding. They thought
it was interesting too. One of them asked him, now mullah,
Mullah Nasruddin, how many wives may a Christian man have? And the mullah said, 16. Well, that is very
remarkable. That's a great many wives, a great many wives, 16. And one of them finally said to him,
how do you know this, Mullah Nasruddin, about the Christian men having 16 wives? He said, did I not?
hear it from the priest with my own ears. Four richer, four poorer, four better, and four worse. One
time the Mola's donkey got sick and oh, oh, did he suffer over worth that donkey. He slept out in the
shed with the donkey. He rubbed its flanks with
perfumed oil. He fed it with his own hand. He sang to it and soothed it. Oh, he was so worried about
the donkey. Finally, his neighbors came to him and said, Mullah Nasruddin, a few years ago, your wife
was sick. And all the women in the village worked together to bring her back from the brink of death.
And all the while that was happening,
All you ever said was, it will be as God wills it. So why are you taking on like this about the donkey?
And the mullah said, when my wife was sick, every day two or three of you would say to me, don't worry,
Mullah Nasruddin. If your wife dies, we'll find you a fine, strong, beautiful young wife.
Now has any of you said to me, don't worry Mullah Nasruddin, if your donkey dies, we'll find you a fine,
strong, beautiful young donkey? One day the mullah was sitting on his little stool under the tree in
front of his house enjoying a cup of sweet mint tea. When a trader came to town riding on a camel,
a couple of other camels behind him, heavily laden with goods. And the trader said to him,
Reverend Sir, what manner of people live in this town? And the mullah answered him, to answer this question,
I must ask you a question. What manner of people lived in the last town you visited? And the trader
said, they were fine people. They made me welcome.
Their homes were beautiful. Their children were well behaved. They were kind and honest. And the mullah
said, what a coincidence. This is exactly what this village is like. And then a few days later, another
trader came down the road on a camel with a couple of extra camels for begging.
He said, Reverend Sir, tell me, what are the people like in this village? And the mullah said, to answer
your question, sir, I must ask you a question first. What were the people like in the last village you
saw? And he said, oh, the village was dirty. The children and the animals looked half-starved. The people
were rude and dishonest. And the mullah said,
You're going to find the people in this village are exactly the same. Now, the thing about these stories
is they don't really have any narrative arc. There's nothing that's going to put you on the edge of
your seat. And I own that. That's true. By the time you figure out what to get excited about, the story's over.
But Stephanie Holman is the next teller, and I have two pieces of advice for you. The first is to find
the edge of your seat now, because Stephanie Holman is such a good storyteller, she will put you on
the edge of your seat instantly. The second advice is if you, through study or work or grief or love
or sacrifice or prayer,
Find your own little carrot of wisdom. Watch out for donkeys. Pamela, well done and probably the best
and most intimidating introduction I've ever had. I love it. Thank you so much. That was brilliant.
Thank you for making me feel welcome next up on the stage.
I am Stephanie Holman and I bring the personal narrative that Patty was talking about. I love to tell
folk tales and occasionally take a literary tale and retell it. But I've told many personal narratives
over the years and used to be, I was Stephanie Gaston here in Monroe County. I grew up in Bloomington.
I'm a native of Monroe County. And some of my favorite tales that I like to write and tell are about
my early years here at Monroe County.
And maybe in the past at Wintertelling, you got to hear my sleigh full of sisters when father hitched
up the horse in the blizzard of 78 and we made our way down the road, the only people on the road at
that time. And I have a tale called Taste of Fall which is available here at your public library on
a CD called Stories from the Heartland. It's a project of storytelling arts of Indiana which is our
statewide organization and it supports storytelling in a lot of beautiful ways.
But I have for you tonight a little tale that is near and dear to my heart. So please, I thank you all
for putting up with me as I tell you my story of Monroe County folk. When I was in the second grade,
I was lucky enough to go to Marlin Elementary. Ah, Marlin, let's shout it out. Okay. To each his own.
And in the second grade, I had a very wise teacher, of course, and she worked with a farmer to arrange
to have an incubator delivered to the classroom so that the children could watch the chicks hatch from
the eggs. It was very exciting. And at the same time that the incubator arrived, on the teacher's desk,
there was a huge mason jar filled with jelly beans.
remarkably identically shaped to the eggs in the incubator, but very colorful. And the point was that
the farmer was going to keep all the chicks that he hoped would hatch, but he would let the class have
three, and we would need to decide who was going to get to take home a chick from the incubator. And
to decide this, she decided that we would write down our guesses, and the ones closest to guessing the
number of jelly beans in that jar would get to take it home.
Well, while all the other kids gathered around the incubator to watch the world turn, I studied that
mason jar, day in and day out. I wanted a baby chick. I was desperate for one. And I didn't really know
much about numbers at that time. I was pretty inadequate at it, still am. But I thought I could somewhat
formulate a plan to figure it out.
Well, finally the exciting day came and the little chicks began to hatch. And everyone gathered around
and we watched as their shells broke and their little wet bodies plopped out onto the floor of the incubator.
And then we watched as the heat began to dry them into little yellow fluff balls. And once the excitement
was over, over there, we sat in our chairs and wrote on a piece of paper our name and our guests. And
then the teacher took them to her desk and discovered
first three winners. My hard work and long efforts of studying the jar almost paid off. I was fourth
and I was devastated as the three lucky winners got a little box with little holes in the top and got
to carry their chick home. Two of them were on my school bus and I would hear at every stop the little
peeping and chipping, very hard. And I got home and I told my family how I hadn't won
And they did not seem very devastated by the thing. In fact, they seemed somewhat relieved that I had
not come home with a baby chick. But I was sure that I would never get over this heartbreak. But luckily,
it was short-lived. Two days later, one of the winners brought back her baby chick in its little peeping
box, and she declared it too messy. She talked about how at home it was too noisy, peeping and cheeping
all the time, and how it would scratch on the paper. And that little food and those dropped
those messy droplings would go everywhere in the room. And so, as fourth place guesser, I got to carry
that box home on the school bus, peeping and cheaping at every stop. And I took it into my family and
they seemed to regroup quickly and decided that they would make this work. And they got a box for the
kitchen and put a single light bulb over it so that it would give the chick warmth and company. And
I named him
And I loved him so. And I watched him every day. And I watched as that fluff turned into pin feathers.
And then over time, he turned into a plump, sleek, orange chicken. And I told my mother, he doesn't
want to sleep in that box anymore, Mom. He wants to sleep with me in my bedroom. She was horrified,
as some of you seem to be. But I told her it would work. And I picked him up, scooped him up, ran up
to my bed. I put him on the foot of my huge four-poster bed. And he did. He just perched right there.
And I got under the covers real quick. My mother was standing in the doorway, hands on hits.
And she looked. But then Oliver brought up one leg and tucked his head under his wing. And what could
she do? She had to leave us there together. And it worked several nights in a row.
But remarkably, a chicken coop was quickly built in the backyard. I didn't even know we were going to
get a chicken coop. But all of a sudden, my father went to work on it. And there it was. And we got
other chickens and other roosters so that Oliver would have plenty of company out there. And it was
quite the cacophony of roosters and chickens out there. And every day, that's where I was. And I watched
all their busy work. Have you ever watched a chicken? You should.
I mean, my favorite part of Oliver's activities was the dust bath that they take every day. And they
take their feathers and waft that dust up, up into their feathers so that it would soothe their sensitive
skin. And then the way they drink, they don't have lips, you know, so he would just get a little beakful
of water and then hold his head back and it would run down his throat. Charming. And then he would peck
so, peck so readily and everywhere. And I don't know how he got any food in his gizzard because it seemed
to go everywhere but down his throat.
But days spent with Oliver were beautiful, and I noticed, as I would say goodnight to him, that he did
not roost up on the bars with the other chickens. He was a house pet I so know, and he liked to sit
in the nesting box and get in the straw there. I said, oh, you lazy rooster. But one morning when I
came out to visit him, he was still in that nesting box. I said, this will not do. You need to get out
there with the rest of them. And I picked him up, and that's when I saw it.
underneath Oliver was the most beautiful egg I had ever seen. No, it was not golden. But it was a light
blue, a pale luminescent blue. And I was shocked and horrified. Oliver, what have you done? I put him
down and I ran in to tell my family. And they came out to look. And my father told me that not only
was Oliver not a he and would never be a rooster, that comb was not going to grow any bigger, but that
Oliver was a special breed of hen.
an aracana chicken that lays the light green, light blue, and sometimes light pink shells on their eggs.
Ah, Oliver, you tricky friend, my special pet. You were born in my classroom. You were given to someone
else, but you found your way back to me. We spent our early youth together there in my room. And now
you played the best trick ever on me. And I learned a lot from you, Oliver. I learned especially.
that you should probably wait till the chicks grow up a little before you give them a name. Thank you.
Thank you.
of the sort of story that comes from a specific culture and a specific time and a specific part of the
world. This is the kind of story that everyone in the culture knows. And you probably know some stories
like that and there's a catch phrase or a saying that goes with each of these stories and if you hear
the catch phrase,
Well, you have the whole story right there in your mind. If I say, little pig, little pig, can I come
in? Why, you know that story. You've got it. It's part of your culture. And when everyone is part of
the culture and everyone knows the story, you don't even have to tell the whole story. You just say
the catchphrase and everybody laughs. Oh, yeah. That's right.
And this is that kind of a story. It was collected by a fascinating man named Harold Corlander. He was
born in Indianapolis in 1905 and he lived almost the whole century. And you may never have heard of
him, but I bet you've heard of Folkways Records. Maybe. Okay. Just checking. Just checking.
He named them. He named Folkways Records. You've heard of Voice of America?
All right. He was part of that. He was also someone who went and lived with various peoples, learning
their languages, learning the nuances of their languages, learning their sayings, and learning the stories
behind their sayings. And at some point, he found himself writing things down. He wrote down
the stories from Haiti, from Cuba, from the Hopi, from the Pacific Islands, from various parts of Africa,
and he was particularly taken with the stories from the Ashanti people. And I've always enjoyed those
stories, and I thought I knew a lot of them. I thought I knew a lot of the Anansi stories, which he
wrote down, many of the Anansi stories, the stories about that trickster, the Spider-Man,
trickster character, but this story I had not heard before last year. I heard it from someone who teaches
myth as a profession. I always thought that was an interesting profession. And I said, oh, that is a
story to share because you will see at the ending why this story speaks to me and maybe
Anansi was friends with Nyami, the sky god. And like friends do, they visited each other. And one day
Anansi was visiting Nyami, and they were sitting and watching the children play. And Nyami said, look
at my children. How strong they are. How healthy they are. And how they are all the same color. They
are all dark. Oh, yeah, said Anansi. It's pretty monotonous.
get you a child of a different color. That is interesting," said Naomi. You make difficulties for yourself,
Anansi, but I will hold you to it. Now, it happened that Anansi had never really looked seriously at
children. He had no idea
When he went back to his village and he looked around for a child of another color, all the children
were the same color. They were all dark. Ah, well, it was a casual remark, and Naomi will have forgotten
it. But several days later, the messengers came from Naomi saying, Naomi would inquire about the child
you promised. What, said Anansi.
Do you think a child is made instantly? These things take time." And he began to look a little more
seriously into the matter. He went more than his village to the next village, and all the children were
the same color. Anansi began to worry, and the messengers came back. Nyami would inquire about the child.
Whoa, it's only been two months.
It takes longer than that to make a child," said Anansi. And when they came back after eight months,
he said, what? Does Naomi want a too soon child? The nine months are not yet up? I think, said Anansi
to himself, I think I should go on a long hunting trip and maybe not come back for a long time and everyone
will think I'm dead.
And so he left on a long hunting trip. It happened at this time in a far distant village that a woman
gave birth to a child who arrived screaming with hunger. This child wanted to be fed immediately, and
the woman began to feed the child milk, but the child wanted more. She made mush and fed it to the child.
For seven days and seven nights, she devoted herself to feeding that child, and every time she stopped
feeding him, he cried for more. At the end of seven days, she said, this is beyond me. This child is
never satisfied. Besides, it is the wrong color. It's red. This is a thing impossible to me. So she
took the child out into the woods and set it in the branches of a tree,
And she went home to get a good night's sleep for the first time in seven weekdays. Who could blame
her? And Anansi, as it happened, was walking down that game trail when he heard the squalling of a hungry
child. And when he saw that child, and he saw that it was a child of a different color, he said, at
last I can give birth.
child back to his village, and he sent messengers to Nyami. He said, the child that is promised has
arrived. And when the messengers came from Nyami, they found a Nancy lying on his sleeping mats as if
he were exhausted from giving birth. And there was the child, screaming and bright red. Well,
When Naomi saw the child, he was pleased. It was a different color. And he called for his senior wife
when he said, raise it as if it's your own. And she, of course, began to feed the thing. She fed the
child, and then she called for the other wives to come help feed the child. And they began to make mush
for the child. And for seven days and seven nights, they fed.
the child and every time they stopped feeding the child, it screamed for more food. So the senior wife
took the child back to Nyami and said, it is impossible. It cannot be satisfied. It makes such a disturbance.
Very well, said Nyami, I will feed the child myself. How hard can this be? And he called for people
to bring him milk and boiled plantains and he began to feed the child.
It soon became obvious that more was needed. And so he sent to all the people to bring food for this
child. And they all came and they brought whatever they had, whether it was good food for a child or
not. They brought pans and pots and baskets and platters of food. And the child was up for anything
they brought. But after a while, they ran out of food.
Everybody had stayed now. There was a huge crowd around looking at this child and having watched it
amazingly eat all this food. And the child looked around and saw that the feeding had ended. And right
in front, there was a man standing with his mouth open, staring at that child. And the little red child
jumped in his mouth. And stopped.
It was the first tongue. And because the child was red, all tongues are red. And because the child was
never satisfied, the tongue is never satisfied. It does not matter if your belly is full or your belly is empty.
It's the same to your tongue. The tongue can always take a little more. So when you sit down to a big
meal and you fill your plate and you eat until your belt is tight and then dessert comes out and you
say, I could have a little bit of that. This is why. And you can remember the saying that goes with
this story. It is, no matter how full the belly is, the tongue will take a little more.
And for this, you may thank Anansi. Now, our trickster, Anansi. You're going to use that one. OK. Comes
up in many other stories, like the one Josh has for you. My parents are in the audience.
It's funny, we didn't plan this, but my story comes from a Harold Corlander collection as well. And
the Treasury of African Folk Tales, I would recommend anybody to go look at this book. I came across
it five or six years ago, and it changed the way I experience stories, I think. But he was really a
remarkable collector. And one of the amazing things about these Anansi stories is
So many of them are so very different, and his character changes, and the nature of the universe shifts,
it seems, from tale to tale. So in this story, there was a time of great hunger in the kingdom of Naomi,
the sky god, and the only food that was to be found was in Naomi's storehouses. And he wanted it shared
out equally, so he put it out that he needed an agent
to distribute the food. And all the animals came together. Everybody wanted to be the agent. It was
a great honor, power. But then they found out there was a price that had to be paid, a terrible price
for animals. The agent would have to have his or her head shaved so that everyone would know who they
were. And of course, you know, the lion. Are you kidding? My mane? But Anansi wanted the honor and the
power that may go with it. So he stepped forward, took the oath,
And Naomi's soldiers took him and they took a long knife and they shaved his head and they did a terrible
job. They left patches of hair and he really looked awful so that instead of the glory when he went
out in the street, all the animals laughed. I'm a Nazi. You got the mange. Nancy, don't go out. And
he had a big ego and so he couldn't take it. And in the middle of the night,
He snuck into the storehouse where the food was kept. He filled a big bag full of food, and he took
off straight into the forest, deep, deep into the heart of the forest, until he came to the house of
Abra Wiwa, the earth goddess. And he held up the food and said, I've got this, and I'll share it with
you if you'll protect me from the sky god. And she said, come inside. I'll take care of you. Well, Naomi
found out.
He was furious. Anansi had broken the oath, and he called together his herd of warrior bulls who had
the power to find the whereabouts of any animal. Find Anansi and bring him back to me, he said. And
the bulls took off through the forest in a path straight. They knocked down trees, tore everything out.
The path was as wide as this is sinking. The path was as wide as three elephants standing shoulder to shoulder.
I think the bulls are trampling on my microphone stand. And they went right to Abruwiwa's house. She
looked out the window and there were the bulls. She walked out and they said, we've come from the sky
god. We're here for Anansi. Well, he's not here. We know he's here and we're taking him. Give him to
us. But Abruwiwa was not called the earth goddess for nothing.
She had powerful magic. She went back inside and pulled from beneath her bed a sword. And she brought
it out. And she held it up and pointed it at the bulls. And she said, fight. And the sword leapt from
her hand and went in among the bulls and cut them down, cut them to pieces. And when they were all dead,
she lowered her hand and said, cool down, cool down.
This is awesome. My whole bunch of bulls just died, didn't they? So she picked up the bloody sword,
dried it off on the grass, went back into the house, and put it away under the bed. A couple days later,
she said, Nancy, I got to go take care of some things. You mind the house. And she left. And of course,
the first thing he did was he went back there, grabbed that sword, strapped it on his back, and took
off right back to Naomi's kingdom. And he walked in, and he said, I am
I'm so sorry I betrayed you, but I have powerful magic now from the earth goddess. I couldn't stand
to have my head shaved, but I've got this magic and if you'll forgive me and take me back, I can use
this to help you in your time of need. And Naomi forgave him and Anansi kept the sword hidden and years
went by and nothing happened.
And one day, Naomi found out that a powerful invading army was coming to conquer the entire kingdom.
And he had the drums beat and the trumpets blared and everyone, the entire kingdom came with whatever
weapons they had and they lined themselves up in front of the city. And Naomi looked out and he saw
that the invading army was far larger. Anansi, now is the time. Bring the powerful magic that you've
taken from the earth goddess. And Anansi took the sword out.
and he walked out and he stood in front of the army of Naomi and he saw the invading army coming and
he held up sword and it gleamed in the sunlight like all the hate of the world focused in a single point
and he said, fight. And the sword left his hand and it entered the army and it flew back and forth cutting
and the invading army, many of them threw down their weapons and they ran and tried to get away but
the sword drove them down into the ground.
And then when they were all dead, Anansi raised his hand up and he said, stop. But he didn't remember
the words cool down and the sword did not hear him. And so it turned and it came on to the people of
Nyami and it began to slaughter them. And Anansi ran behind it shouting, stop, stop, stop. But the sword
did not hear him.
until every last member of Naomi's army was slain, and only Anansi stood alone on the battlefield, and
the sword came to him and killed him too. And then, having no one left to kill, it stuck itself in the
ground and sprouted sharp thorns and leaves and became the tinne plant. And to this day, if you touch
the tinne plant, it will cut you and your blood will flow, all because the words,
Cool down. We're not spoken when they should have been. Thank you. He says we have stability. We'll see.
It has to stay tall for me. My name is Addie Hirston, and the story I have for you tonight is an Aetherian
legend called Sir Gawain and the Lothly Lady. Once upon a time, there was a king, not just any king,
but King Arthur. He was galloping through the forest when all of a sudden, out from the bushes came
his arch nemesis, the Black Knight, who was clothed in the hardest of metals, jet black. You could not
see his eyes. He grabbed the sword Excalibur from King Arthur before King Arthur could stop him.
Black Knight pointed that sword at King Arthur and he said, King Arthur, I have you at last. Your kingdom
is mine. Excalibur is mine. But there's one thing I would value knowing above your kingdom. If you can
answer a riddle for me, if you can find
an answer to a riddle for me before New Year's Day. I will give you back Excalibur and your kingdom.
If not, England is mine. All right, said King Arthur. He didn't know what else to do. He agreed to this.
The riddle was this. What is it that every woman wants?
What is it that every woman wants? Surely, King Arthur could figure it out. By New Year's Day, he agreed.
The Black Knight went one way, and King Arthur headed back toward Camelot. And as he did, he stopped
at every house in every village and asked every woman he could find what it was they wanted.
above anything else. And every woman had a different answer. Oh no. Oh dear. That evening, King Arthur
sat in front of the fireplace and he just massaged his eyebrows. Oh, he could not figure out the answer
to this riddle. The fate of England was at stake. When in walked,
one of his best knights, Sir Gowan. Sir Gowan saw King Arthur and he said, King Arthur, what is wrong?
What can I do? King Arthur told Sir Gowan of the riddle, what is it that every woman wants, and how
it must be solved by New Year's Day. I will take up this quest, said Sir Gowan. And he ran out to the
stables and he jumped on his horse and he started off through the forest.
He rode all night long, and then in the morning, as the sun was coming up over the horizon, he rounded
a bend, and in front of him, on a stump, was sitting a lady. But not just any lady. Although she was
dressed in fine velvets, trimmed with gold, she was loathly. She was
the ugliest woman he had ever seen. Her skin dripped from her face. It had pock marks, and it was scabby.
Her lip dangled down just so, and then drool was coming off of that. She had one eye up here and one
eye down here. Her nose looked like a pig's.
She only had a few little wisps of hair back at the nape of her neck. And she pointed at Sir Gowan and
she said, I know who you are, Sir Gowan. I know of your quest and I know the answer to the riddle. What
is it that every woman wants? You do, said Sir Gowan once amazed. Well, what is it? Tell me.
out so fast I will tell you what the answer is if you will agree to marry me oh dear thought Sir Cowan
he was a young man and he hadn't picked a mate for life yet but he was hoping it would be someone his
own age and nice and fit and healthy and and they could grow old together but then
He thought of England and of King Arthur and what the kingdom would be like if this dark night was to
take over. And he decided in that split second to sacrifice himself for the noble cause. And he said,
all right, I will marry you. What is the answer?
She leaned over and she whispered in his ear. That's it. He said, all right. He picked her up, put her
on his horse. They galloped back to Camelot. Sir Gowan told King Arthur, King Arthur a few days later
on New Year's Day, told the Dark Knight and the Dark Knight
gave Excalibur back. England was in good hands again. There was much rejoicing. But there was not much
rejoicing over the marriage of Sir Gawain and the loathly lady. No one in the castle could figure this
out, why on earth he would agree to such a marriage.
They were married in the chapel. And then Sir Gowan took the loathly lady up to his bed chambers. He
closed the heavy wooden door. And then he did not want to turn to face her. Look at me, said the lady,
for I am much chained.
Sir Gowin looked at her and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen now. She was his own age.
She had long dark hair, ruby red lips, gray eyes, as gray as the sea. And they looked at him and she
said, Sir Gowin,
I have been under a spell and you're marrying me. Now the spell has half broken and here's the catch.
I can be my own beautiful self half of the day. I can only be like this either in the daytime
or at night. And you have to choose when I will be my young, youthful self. Oh, oh dear, said Circa
Owen. Well, what's the benefit to both? What's the benefit to each one? Let's make out a pro-con list
or something. Which should I choose? Well, she said, well,
If I'm beautiful during the day, we can go riding together. I will have a young, healthy body. People
in the castle will not think that you are crazy for having married me. I'll have friends. I'll be accepted
in the community. But if I'm myself at night, when we're alone and you embrace me, you won't be afraid
to touch me.
And he looked at her, and he looked in those pretty eyes, and he said to himself, what does she really
want? What does she really want? Which would she choose? And then he remembered the answer to the riddle.
What is it that every woman wants? And that is to have her own way.
I'm not going to choose. You choose. Yes, said the lady. Thank you, Sir Gowan. That was the correct
answer. Because, yes, what every woman wants is to have her own way. And since you have given that to
me, I may now be my young, beautiful self all the day and the night, 24 hours a day.
for the rest of our lives, and we will grow old together. Now, as we come upon Valentine's Day, I think
it's not just what women want to have their own way. I think everyone wants to have their own way. So
that's my food for thought, and that is the story of Sir Gowan and the Loathly Lady.
Hello, everybody. So nice to see you. I see old friends and new friends and really appreciate you guys
coming out. When I think about the two stories, the two short stories that I'm going to be sharing with
you today, I am reminded of the beginning of Annie Hall.
And it's one of my favorite movies. And I don't know if you remember, but at the beginning Woody Allen
talks about his life being informed by two primary jokes. And the first one is, I'd never belonged to
a club that would have me for a member. And the second one involves two women eating at a restaurant
in the Catskills. And one says, the food here is just awful. And the other says, yeah, and the portions
are so small.
So I think about that when I think about these two stories, which I have to admit, I didn't really work
really hard to really prepare tonight because they're two stories that I feel kind of weave in and out
of my day daily. And the first one, tell me if you've heard it, it's about two months that are traveling
down the road. They're traveling down a mountain road and they're on their way to visit a nearby monastery
on the other
mountain in the valley. So they're traveling down, and they meet the village, and they go through the
village. And they're just about to cross the river to go up to the other mountain path. When they hear
this squalling and this cursing beyond belief, just this stream of profanities coming, and they look
around, and they see this woman, this elderly woman. And she has this elaborate costume on, and she's
has bags just dripping off of both sides, and she's cursing and cursing and cursing. And the monks say,
ma'am, what can we do? How can we help you? You seem to be really suffering here. And she says, well,
I need to get across this stream. The bridge is out. I've got all of these packages to meet my family.
They're waiting for me. They're going to throw this
big celebration in honor of me, and it's about time they finally recognize me for who I am. And I can't
get across this river. I'm going to destroy my outfit. It is a mess. And so the monks say, don't worry.
Don't worry. We'll be happy to help. We're not carrying anything. So my friend will take your bags,
and I'll take you on my back. And no problem. And so one monk took her bags, and the other, indeed,
put the old woman on his back. And he traipsed very gingerly.
through the stream, and the old woman says, stop jostling me, you're messing up my hair, and watch out
for those packages, you're getting them wet, you'll ruin them, I can't believe it, I can't believe it.
So they get a little bit closer, and the water's getting deeper, and she said, watch out, my slipper's
getting wet, you're gonna ruin, you're gonna ruin. So finally, after much complaining, much cursing,
They get to the other side of the riverbank and they, you know, carefully put the woman down. They take
her packages and, you know, carefully put them on, make sure she's on her way. And without a thank you,
without anything, she said, well, it's about time. And she drapes us off. And so the monks don't say
anything and they just go on their merry way. And they start walking up the mountain to the next monastery.
And one of the monks looks to the other one and said, my god, that woman was awful. And the monk looked
at him and said, I left the woman at the riverbank. Why are you still carrying her? So I think about
that a lot, because I'm carrying that woman on my back almost every day. The other one I also heard
in a Buddhist context
And it's called A Handful of Mustard Seed. And it's about a young mother. And she'd just given birth
to her first child. And it was a baby boy. And he was round and fat and black, shining, sparkling eyes.
And that kind of black hair, it's a full head of hair with just a shock going up. And he was
life and just brought so much joy to she and her husband and one day the shine came out of the baby's
eyes and then the color and then for some inexplicable reason the baby wouldn't need anymore and one
morning she woke up and the baby wasn't awake the baby wouldn't rouse
She knew what had happened, but she didn't want to know what happened. So she took that baby and she
put it in her sling and she went outside and she started screaming for help. Somebody help me. Somebody
help me. Can't anyone save my baby?
And everyone shook their heads and looked at her pitifully. And a man approached her and said, I know
someone who can help. The Buddha is outside our village now with his disciples. And they set up camp.
And I think he has what you need. She said, any medicine, anything, I'll take any kind of treatment.
And he said, yes, exactly. He'll have that. Go.
Now. And so she did. She ran as fast as she could out to the village, and she found them, and she ran
right up to him and said, Buddha, Buddha, please, someone tell me that you had the medicine that I need
to take care of this child to bring my child back to life. And he said, I do. I do. I have just what
you need. But I'm missing one key ingredient. I need you to find a handful of mustard seed. OK, I'll
do that immediately. He said, no way.
It needs to be from a house who has never lost someone they loved. I understand. And so the woman knocked
on the door of the first house. And she met a woman. And she told the woman what she needed. And the
woman said, yes, I have it right here. And when she was asked if she lost a loved one, yes.
my father just last year. And so the woman sat down and talked to her about her loss. And the same thing
happened at the next house where they lost their child, and the next house where they lost their spouse,
and the next house where they lost. And as the woman visited each house, she saw the suffering in their eyes.
was her suffering. She went back to the field where the Buddha was. She buried her child. And she approached
him and said, thank you for giving me the medicine that I needed and not the medicine that I wanted.
And that's the story of the mustard seed. Thank you.
Beautiful. I was reading through a story that maybe some of you have read before, maybe some of you
haven't. It's an old epic poem from Mali, from the ancient empire of Mali called the Sunjata.
I was struck by one of the things that it came across, which was that there are many truths in the world.
There are many truths. And I was thinking about how that related to stories. Because obviously, there
are many different kinds of stories. There are even lots of different versions of the same story.
many different Anansi stories, many different stories from the Pali Canon about the Buddha. But there's
also many different meanings within a story. And I think sometimes, at least this happens to me, I imagine
it happens to you as well, we get so caught up
with all of the information coming at us, that it gets hard to really sit with something for a long
time and to see all of those different truths within it. And this was a lesson that I first learned
10 years ago, or first really thought about 10 years ago. I was traveling in Ghana.
which was the country of Anansi, the country of the Ashanti people. And although I lived in the Ashanti
land for a while, this story came from the southeast part of Ghana, along the Volta River, where the
Ewe people live. I lived there for about a month. And while I was there, there's a lot of other stories
I could tell you, but
Suffice it to say that I was going through a ceremony there. And as part of that ceremony, I was given
this set of stories that were to be the stories that shaped my life. My star is what they called it.
And of course, I was 20 years old at the time, and I was like, well, I want to know all of them. And
they didn't let me. They told me one. And they said, that's enough for now. And then a few days later,
they told me another one. And I said, OK, two's good. And then finally, after a week, they told me a
third. And they said, OK, we better stop there. I said, but how many are there?
At least 10 or 20. I want to know them all. I need to know myself. No, no, no. Three is enough. And
I found it frustrating at the time, but I've lived with one of these stories in particular for the past
10 years, and I wanted to share that story with you tonight. And I wanted to share just a little bit
about how I understand it now versus how I understood it 10 years ago.
The story takes place back in the time of the Kingdom of the Animals. And there was a vacancy on the
royal stool. In Western Europe they had thrones and enthronements. Well, in West Africa they have royal
stools and instoolments. And so the stool was vacant and they were going to have
ceremony to name the next king of the animals. And at the time, all of the fingers were pointing towards
Gorilla. But there was another contender, which was the deer. But at the moment, at the time, Gorilla
had the support of the most of the people there. And so the night before his instuling,
Gorilla had a party. I mean, who wouldn't? Hey, it's a done deal, right? And so Gorilla had his friends
over, he had his girlfriend over, they had a little bit to drink and then they had a little bit more
to drink and then even a little more to drink. And the stooling ceremony was in the morning. Well, that
next morning, everyone was at the ceremony and they were
They were waiting, but someone had to be named king. They didn't come all this way out just to sit there.
So finally, they gave it to Deer. And Deer became the king of the animals. And later on that afternoon,
Gorilla finally woke up. And he realized what had happened. And he sang a song.
And the song goes like this. And what that song meant was, even though I am not the king,
Not everything is lost. I'll still have my kingly walk. And to this day, you still see Gorilla with
his kingly walk. I heard the story when I was 20. And when I tried to understand it then, and I was
reading through my
the notes in my journal that I was taking just earlier today. I wrote about how this is talking about
how, you know, it's about self-control and self-discipline and about how, you know, you really need
to hold out for those things that you want because you can't, you know, you can't count your chickens
before they hatch and you have to persevere until the end and all of those folk wisdom that we hear.
Ten years later, and a lot of missed opportunities later in my own life, I see a different truth in
that story. And that different truth is that what's really important here? Is it really important who
gets to be the king of the animals?
Or is what's really important that Gorilla still has his kingly walk? And I would prefer to think of
the story as a reassurance rather than a caution, saying that even when you think you've lost that golden
opportunity, there's always time to keep what's inside.
was a short woman. There was a farmer who had a son, and the farmer and the son owned a beautiful, wee,
tidy farm in the valley of Slivnaman.
They had the sheep up in the mountains, and they had a cow in the buyer, and they had a few chickens
in the yard. Now, the mother had died many years before, but the two males kept that household running
pretty good. The father, well, he kept the house and the yard all tidy,
the sun where he took care of the sheep up in the mountaintops. And he was just as happy as could be
doing what he did. The old man, oh, he could make a fine grand soda bread, put it on the griddle. There
was always fresh buttermilk from the churn. And oh, he made sure that he and his son always had some
lovely brown eggs on Sunday morning. The two lived together and never
Hard word was spoken between them. But by and by, the young man spotted himself, a Susie little gal
in the next parish. And before you know it, he brought her home as his blooming bride. Now, you might
be thinking that she's an evil one.
into this house that she's going to tear things apart. You're wrong. Oh, now there was, now there was
current cake on Sunday and there was a nice lamb stew on Thursday. She fit in beautifully and they all
got together well. And in fact, nine and a half months to the day
There was a baby born into the household. Oh, what a joyous occasion. But something horrid was about
to happen. For that young man, now a father, felt the weight of fatherhood and having a family and providing
for them way in on his shoulders. And he became serious. And he became discontented and grumpy. And
I didn't take it out on his wife, no, or on the wee one. No, he took it out on his poor old father.
to snuffle your food while you're eating? You sound like you should be at a trough," the son would say
to his father. Stop spitting on the fire. You want to teach the young Wendell bad manners? The old man
would try to stay out of the young man's way, but, but you're moving like a sailor on the,
I'll run the yard, duh.
You just can't keep up with it, can you? And so at night, the old man, he would eat a little bit less
and he would try to stay out of the way of the sun. He never said a word. His daughter-in-law Mary,
she was very sympathetic and she always made sure the old man was taking care
But after a while, the young man, worried about everything, said, father, you eat too much. You take
up too much room. We're grown. I've got my family here. I can't take care of you and take care of them
too. Father, Tamara, I'm taking you to the poor house.
Now Mary, she interfered. No, no, you can't do that to your dad. I can in his spinal, said the young
man. Well, the next morning came. The old man, he packed up his bags and he waited. And the young man
said to his wife, you know that blanket
that blanket you brought to the wedding marriage. Bring that, we'll give that to Di and he can take
it to the poor house with him to keep himself warm. So Mary, she went and she pulled out that beautiful
wool blanket that she'd made that she'd brought with her dowry and back in the day they would make the
blankets so that they were so that they were doubled, double length. And when the son saw them,
Blanket, he said, oh my, that's too nice for dad to take to the, to the porthouse. Mary, cut it in two
and we'll give him half of that blanket. Oh, do no such thing. Your dad will have the whole blanket.
And Mary and her husband looked at each other. When a small boy said,
somewhere where I can find it so that when I go to put my daddy at the poor house, I'll know where to
get a blanket for him. Well, you would have thought that young man had been hit by a brick.
So from the mouth of our babe, he helped his dad over and sat him close to the fire. Mary, he said,
put that blanket away and let's get dad a nice cup of tea. And the poor house was never mentioned again.
Tonight when you're cuddling up in your blanket, we hope you'll dream upon some of the stories that
you've heard tonight. Take away some of the wisdom and maybe tell them again. I've got to get out of
the brogue. My husband will kill me if I come home a-talkin' like this. And do join us for refreshments
here on stage. Thank you so much for coming to The Wintertelling.