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How interconnected we all are. Chance occurrences cause us to pause and reflect. Seemingly unrelated chance experiences connect us reminding us all that we are interconnected. I don’t know Eva personally, but she knows me. She’s heard me telling stories because she used to attend school here in Mandeville, Louisiana. A year and a half ago her family moved to Holland where she is now living in the Hague. She wrote to tell me so after visiting my blog and uncovering my evolving relationship with Holland. In the Hague she’s attending a school I also told stories at. I get to return there in the fall to share more stories and hopefully I will really get to meet Eva.

My friend Adona, commented it took Christopher Columbus three months to reach America and now it only takes a few seconds to communicate with someone across the Atlantic. Mind boggling, it is. Traveling from Washington D.C. it takes approximately seven hours to reach the Netherlands, the far lands. Traveling at the speed of human thought it takes less than a second to communicate with another person. Just by thinking about the other person, no matter where they are on the planet, we joggle our interconnectedness. Miles away, the other person being thought about responds to the human thought being sent their way with subtle responses and nuances. How many times have you thought about someone and later you found out they had been thinking about you too? Interconnectedness. We are all connected like cells in a giant body.

What a cool thought and thanks Eva for writing!

Oprah's Big Give Away starts Sunday! What would it be like to be a contestant on her show? I don't know, so I made my own contest. What if I had a cool million to giveaway what would I do with it and who would I choose to give to? I know people who could use this money in a heartbeat, but what is the biggest impact I can make in the lives of others by giving them one million dollars?

Would I give the money to friends, family or complete strangers? Friends and family could certainly use the money! I can use the money, but when I look at my lifestyle, I can see where I have plenty to be thankful for. I live in a gorgeous home, have a wonderful husband, and I can use one of my credit cards if I really, really need something. But I don’t really want for anything. I have two great over the top adult children, and a belief system that sustains me. I have a wonderful career that is a joy to perform and a life that is immeasurably rich because I can continue to create whatever my heart desires.

So who do I give the money to? My mom has cancer and cancer research could certainly use the money to find a cure for cancer. This does not seem like an adequate solution. With so many truly needy people in the world who would I give the money to? Perhaps it should be given to a homeless person who needs it?

Does the homeless person get the money? I know lots of Hurricane Katrina families who lost everything and didn’t get one dime because they answered the questions wrong on the intake applications FEMA sent out. I know people struggling to still make ends meet due to the hardships of losing everything. I know people who lost everything and today have doubled all they lost. These are all material things. Even if replaced it can be lost again.

I would choose to give the money to an ongoing educational outreach that makes a difference in people’s lives by educating them. I subscribe to that adage “Teach a man to fish and he will eat the rest of his life.”

So who gets the money?

$100,000 goes towards the ongoing education of Sexual abuse

$100,000 goes towards the Boy and Girls club in San Jose, California for their ongoing work with destitute and terminally ill children

$100,000 to s certain radio station that yearly fulfills the dreams of handicapped and terminally ill children.

$100,000 to Erase Eracism for educating others

$100,000 to the school in Africa educating young girls

$100,000 to continue worthy storytelling in communities

$100,000 to 2 artists to continue their work year long without having to worry about a salary

$100,000 to cover the cost of two $50,000 homes for two families in the New Orleans area

$200,000 to people to get ahead on their debts! $5000.00 each given to forty people already attending Debt and Credit counseling sessions to getthem started with staying out of debt.

"All of us struggle to be the best we can be. All of us wonder at times whether what lies ahead is too difficult or too challenging. In truth, sometimes our most fearsome competitor is ourself, as we face our own doubts and fears on the way to reaching our potential."- Hillary Clinton

Hillary Clinton gave words to what I deeply believe in a story she writes about daring to compete when she was contemplating running for Senate. A young woman athlete inspired her "To Dare to Compete"! I am inspired. I have always loved being a part of the game, thrilling whenever our team won. More often than not I wasn't on the winning team. Today I am the winning team because I inspire others to reach for their dreams, live their best lives yet to be. I dare others to believe in themselves. Today, I am daring myself to reach for my biggest dream yet.

I can't talk about it in this format. But I can tell you I spend everyday, seeing it coming together in my mind's eye. Everything I have ever wanted to accomplish, I first visualized it--made it so real for me until it unfolded in my experience as my experience. Somehow along the way, I lost my ability to visualize. In my own mind I was floundering and not making good choices. Then a few months before Hurricane Katrina hit our city, I found myself in that perfect space of reconnecting to the heart of what I believe. I had found my ability to exist at that level of pure knowing without knowing how it would happen, I just knew it would in spite of the chaos I saw unfolding in and around me. Though my life had come unraveled, I felt I was lost at sea aboard a ship of unknowns and uncertainty, yet unbelievably calm within. It seemed I was on auto pilot and knew exactly what to do even though it seemed life sized waves would sink me. Through this tremulous devastating time an unbelievable dream come true!

At that time my dream was to travel the world telling stories. With a precision that takes my breath away, obstacles disappeared and baby did I travel--as I told stories at schools around the world! An unanticipated dividend yielded marriage to the most wonderful man in the process of watching my dream unfold.

Even as my dream fleshed out as my reality, I became aware of the enormous suffering in our world. I saw whole countries seemingly living in a reality that boasted scarcity. How could I make a difference for my state, for my country, for the world? Every person I meet on my journey is an opportunity to share what I know. Today, this moment, I cease struggling because there is a Power available to me and all people that desires our happiness. I truly believe this. I am choosing to cast off in my self made boat of believing the best of who I am has set course for more uncharted waters. I am facing my doubts and fears. I've learned facing the unknown yields unexpected and surprising results. Stay tuned, I'll let you know what happens!

Mom's Coming Home! Not from the hospital, from being displaced by Hurricane Katrina, from Houston. Texas! She was there over two years and now she's returning to her home. My brother refurbished her house and it looks fabulous! There's new everything! Remodeled, it's larger, more spacious and better equipped to handle the new living that will be taking place in that house. She arrives by plane Sunday. I pick her up and bring her to my house until her belongings arrive the following day. My sister is coordinating the effort moving her two years of accumulated things back to New Orleans. (glad it's not me)

Her returning home is bittersweet as she has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Gone is my mom's closest and dearest friend who moved to St. Louis last month. It is time for rejoicing, a time for new beginnings and endings. It is a time to celebrate my mom! The person she is, includes everything I like and don't like. She is her own person. My mom can still be feisty, ill or not. She is not beyond losing her temper with her good intentioned daughter (me) when she perceives I've gone beyond her desires.

Mom is very much alive and coming home! Time to celebrate I think!

First Graders Continued --Predicting our Brains towards Success! This year I met with a different batch of first graders. These first graders were making different demands on their teachers (or maybe the teachers are making better demands on their 1st graders) because there was evidence all around the school learning was in session with a capital L. Blazened through each hallway was information about varying world cultures, colorful classrooms emphasized learning at work. Most telling was how teachers answered the question: "Are your students smart?" Without missing a beat, teachers affirmed how smart ALL their students are!

Indeed, the students confidently answered many questions themselves, proudly showing me what they already knew! I told them some stories to emphasize drug and alcohol awareness to meet the needs of the hiring body. More importantly, I shared scientists now say we learn best through predictions! Predicting they will do well leads the brain to formulate evidence to do well. We can jump-start our brains to work more intelligently on our behalf by simply telling ourselves that we are already doing so! Awesome stuff and these first graders already know it! I didn't have to tell them what they already knew, I merely presented compelling stories and information to remind them of what they already know.

Seems they know (unlike the children of previous years generations) they are already encoded to make different choices than their parents. It's not so long ago, researchers wrote, "if one of your parents smoked (or fill in your own behavior) then you'd be more than likely to grow up and be a smoker too". What a prediction that many kids were predisposed to subtly believe. These 1st graders already know they will surpass their parents, the same way they already know how to use a cell phone, or a computer! They are already making decisions to make better choices. Some of their parents have died doing it the hard way. Who needs to go that route?

Imagine if everyone worked together to encode our kids with the knowledge they already know how to make good choices (and you do too). Wouldn't it be neat if newspapers all over the country predicted how well our kids did on their tests before they actually take those required school tests? What if newspapers stop posting how terrible kids perform on those standardized tests and start focusing on the gains they are making? I suppose that wouldn't be news. Maybe they can do a report on who's getting the money for all those required tests and which political arm and their relatives mandated the ruling--now that would be news!!! But that's another story. We're all pretty smart if you ask me and we're getting smarter all the time. Someday soon more educators will be redirected to use this predictive learning mode of the brain in their classrooms for spectacular results. Looking at the larger picture perhaps educators will use their predictive skills to do away with the need for those standardized tests whioh IMHO don't prove diddly squat!

Those first graders still deal with all kinds of problems, just like last year's group. However this year, they have the moxie to overcome them. I told them all just how incredible they all were! Like a good scientist, I backed it up with good solid proof. I told them how smart they are and I can prove it. If I placed an apple and a glass of gasoline before them, they would instinctively know which was right for them! I told them they had a brain (who can refute that?) that already knows how to make good choices. After storytelling, I presented them with good choices, bad choices scenarios and ALL of those 1st graders responded accordingly with the correct answers! Why? Because THEY ARE SMART AND THEY KNOW HOW TO MAKE GOOD CHOICES ALREADY!

I even reminded them that our brains are taking in information all the time and we are constantly making new choices to support the updated information. For example, if we're going swimming outside and notice it's raining, we will automatically make another choice. Sound like good ol common sense doesn't it? Seems to me, we all have the ability to make good choices. And for those times we make mistakes, well we can choose to learn from our mistakes. I hear Edison made 10,000 mistakes to make a light bulb! Okay, I wonder just how many Einsteins and Edisons (and for the sake of Black History Month) and Garretts were amongst those 1st graders? Me thinks at least 250, the exact number of 1st graders I spoke to!

This time last year, I was invited to share stories with first graders. I returned this week to participate in the same program. Here is what I wrote about my visit last year. Tomorrow I will share what happened during my visit this year.

I was invited by the Alcohol and Drug Awareness Council to participate in an ongoing storytelling program for first graders throughout the parish specifically aimed at preventing the use of alcohol and drugs. I spoke with the principal and the sheriff and highly recommended a slight shift in programming to focus on self esteem. I pointed out that kids already know what drugs are and telling them "not to" was like a giant promotion sign in favor of drugs. They actually liked my ideas so we scheduled the program this past week. There were nine programs, one for each first grade class. One of the questions I asked each class was did they know anyone who used drugs. Nearly every hand went up in each session! I worked unceasingly to instill precious instinct into these children about the power of making good choices giving them clues to "read" and understand their bodies so they can make better choices. Not only do smart people make good choices, but they feel good about the choices they make and it is the right thing to do just because doing the right thing makes you feel good inside.

I was bone tired both evenings, but it was well worth it. I also emphasized that good behavior is self directed. I placed the responsibility of behavior management squarely on the shoulders of the students reinforced with examples in the stories I told.

Later, teachers told me horror stories about what some of these first graders encounter on a regular basis. I told two stories to each class and interspersed impacting, useful self esteem messages to the children. In one story I told of a young boy who accidentally found the value of using his inner strength and good character traits to rise through the ranks of his village to become the leader. The chief felt responsible for helping the people in his village so he pondered how best to reach them and came across the idea of telling stories. He taught the children how to find their inner strength by listening inside through storytelling. He was wise enough to know the children would in turn unconsciously teach the adults when relating the stories to their parents. The climax of the story was the first graders got to "assist" the chief in saving the village.

The second story was indirectly aimed at teachers, and told the story of a young girl who learned skills to use her brain in fun ways so she became a better student and changed her self perspective thanks to a creative teacher. Teachers learned new ways of presenting information so students can store it creatively to retrieve the info when needed. The students learned vicariously through the girl in the story as she transitioned from being an incorrigible pain in the you know what, to one who learned the satisfying power of using her brain to become a straight A student thanks to her creative teacher.

The principles shared in the story were not difficult for teachers to add to their daily regimen and came from my arsenal of working with at risk kids. The principal sat in on one session each day. She was so enthusiastic about what I shared that she required teachers of the other classes to come in during their planning time to hear the stories the second day!

I hope my drop in the bucket helps long term. I wish I could return each month to continue nurturing what was planted. They will continue the program next year for incoming first graders, while the second graders will be treated to a storytelling assembly recapping what was taught this year. Mostly I hope first graders can begin to determine that they can make better choices for their lives than what others around them have exhibited and they can do it by first believing in themselves.

I am knee deep in Black History Programs at six different schools. As a multi-colored person inside who happens to be black outside I subscribe to the belief that all people are beautiful no matter their color plus I found myself at an early age too fair to be accepted by my own and too black to be accepted by the whites...so I befriended those who were kind.

Fortunately for me that included many skin colors) it is not unusual for Black History programs to be lumped under the heading of multicultural day at many predominantly white schools or ignored altogether. Sometimes for good reason. Often it makes people feel uncomfortable, but more likely the celebration is simply misunderstood. The better Black History programs teach all kids they are valuable regardless of color, and needed to play their part in the world. Everyone has a purpose. Working together the world is a better place. Black History programs too often focus on the same famous token characters year after year: Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman, Louis Armstrong, Mary Bethune and the like. Their contributions are surely noteworthy. It's just that there are so many who paved the way for our quality of living today, that the focus should not be a few, but many.

When I was a little girl my grandparents had a thick, six volume set of African American contributions across the ages. When Black History month came we used them to write the mandatory reports due at the time. Through those books, African American stories came alive and they were numerous.

One of the schools boast a 60/40 population mix and students aren't privy to the contributions of even the mainstream historical people. When we began working together many students didn't know who some of the historical characters were. Another teacher, made it clear the subject just wasn't covered. Since he's the school's communication teacher, he's videotaping our program and airing it in a school broadcast during the last week of this month.

Black History sites you may find helpful are: http://www.connectionsacademy.com/community/ncteReadIn.asp http://www.teacherplanet.com/resource/blackhistory.php http://birminghamblackhistory.com/heroes/ http://www.nea.org/webresources/blackhist05.html http://www.nea.org/lessons/2003/tt030213.html http://blackparenting.blogspot.com/2007/10/african-american-christmas-movies-and.html http://www.nps.gov/history/nr/feature/afam/INDEX.HTM

Two of the schools feature students in storytelling mode as they share the importance of black history month. All programs I am working on emphasize the importance of valuing and believing in one's self along with getting along with others. The most prolific storyteller I know on historical black figures is Sylvia Barker who lives in Rochester, New York. I could listen to Sylvia for hours. She is a walking textbook of the African American experience. Here is a picture of Sylvia during our visit to New York this time last year. She tells an awesome George Washington Carver story!

Aaron is my son. Not biological, but he lives in my home along with his grandmother, displaced from Hurricane Katrina. Aaron's mom died when he was 9 months old and he's been raised by a host of family members. He is in 8th grade and wants to drop out of school to become a famous, well-paid, skateboarding champion. Heck, we'd pay for him to go train with the best of the skateboard champions, if he pulls up his grades. That's the agreement we made with him. In the meantime, his laptop. ipod, cell phone, and TV are locked in our room until we see an improvement in grades! What argument could we give to a "know-it-all" teen who is quite sure he won't need a diploma or degree? For starters, we pulled up SHIFT HAPPENS, a video by a Colorado high school teacher, Karl Fisch. http://www.lps.k12.co.us/schools/arapahoe/fisch/fischbowlpresentations.htm

Aaron watched the video and we didn't have to say a word. He's smart. He began to put the pieces together himself. He's always been smart. He is a master at wrapping adults around his finger by telling them what he thinks they want to hear. By the time he watched the second video 2020 Vision, and listened to me about the benefits of education placing him in the driver seat, I could see the gears turning in his mind. Several stories later... One of those stories about my college son Bryan at Howard U with a five year scholarship in Physics when he was at a top notch High School here in New Orleans goes like this... Bryan and his intellectual football teammates were taking a nasty beating on the field by a tough inner city high school. The cheerleaders cheered how badly they were being beaten and how superior their team was. Bryan's high school team never missed a beat and chanted right back: 2-4-6-8 -that's alright, that's okay, we're going to sign your paychecks one day! In that simple chant was the power to trample their opponents psychologically. Yeah, the smart guys lost the physical game where strength and brawn were important. But on the field of academic dominance everyone knew who the real champions were.

It didn't take Aaron long to understand, getting an education is important. I continued. It was his job to get an education so that he would have the power one day to change the way learning is taught. How would he like classes to be arranged? Make a difference in the lives of the children of the future by being prepared to change the face of education to really meet the needs of tomorrow's students. What good is an education if you're famous and all that jazz, but you have no say so in the rules that make up the sport because you don't feel intellectually capable? Standardized tests are unimportant. Kids know this most of all. But they can't do a thing about what they have to learn. It's all decided by people who have a degree or two, (or three) and the power to effect change. Learning is all important. You learn how to make changes by getting a sound education. No, this is not a good day to dropout. This is an excellent day for deciding that you can and will change how it's been done!

Aaron says, "it was a well rounded, educational experience." That's what happens when you have a mom who just happens to have a degree in education!

               
	

	
	
	
	
	
	
	

	
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My in-laws left on Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras Day. Here they are visiting a local plantation. Pa was ready to get back home to the Netherlands and Ma wanted to go too. In nine short days I bonded with my husband's parents so much that by the time I said goodbye at the airport (Arjo, my husband had to work) the tears caught me unprepared. Big heartfelt mushy tears erupted when the moment came to say goodbye. I always thought you only had one set of parents. Now I've learned when you get married, you actually get another set if you're lucky. I am fortunate.

We don't speak the same language, have the same customs, or celebrate the same holidays, yet after learning to communicate through fractured Dutch and broken English phrases we were able to share what's important and understand one another. People matter, relationships are forged through shared experiences. In this great big world when we make the effort to understand others something wonderful has an opportunity to unfold.

Stories help us become citizens of the world instead of just our neighborhoods. We get to reformulate our assumptions and broaden our horizons understanding that we really do live in this world together. This takes courage to let others know who we really are. It takes courage to learn that there are other ways of doing things. There are many ways of learning to live together. I will probably never understand all the nuances of what it means to be Dutch. And they will probably never understand what it truly means to be American. In the final analysis, it doesn't really matter. No matter what language we spoke, we experienced one another superficially at first. Gradually we lowered our defenses and our resistance melted as we allowed each other in. So when it was time to say goodbye, we shed tears of something deeper than mere understanding. We understood the uniqueness of who we are and subsequently we found we had merged a family, merged hearts and spoke a language that needed no words.

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I have long affirmed I am a writer. This statement is in the first blog below along with lots of other (I think) cool offerings confirming this fact. Secretly, I've doubted being a writer having a love/hate relationship with myself regarding the fact. But it is not my Truth!

This past year I announced it to the Universe, as I have countless other years, but this year I declared it with such gusto and confidence last July that I promptly sent my never sent out manuscript to one publisher. Yep, deep down I've been quite a sizable cowardly lion. But I do not shirk from being yellow, I just had to work at it even harder to overcome this very human trait. I could not stand the thought of rejection. Rejection for any reason sucks. In retrospect, I look back and wonder what in the world was I afraid of? I remember the time I was going to be published on my own terms. No rejection letters for me, I had one of my stories illustrated. Made the decisions and paid for it myself. Loved it so much, I did it again. Secured a self publisher, paid her some money to start publication and then another storyteller whose opinion I admired said, "you can never qualify for any book awards if you self publish!" Now I had double the fear and still no published book.

Our fears are never rational. They just exist and reek havoc in our lives keeping us from our greater yet to be! I heard from the publisher in October, emailing they wanted to publish me! I was so excited I called a few close friends and prematurely celebrated with my husband. Of course underneath all my bravado was the belief that I was not good enough to be published and I secretly harbored fears that as each week dragged by hearing nothing, meant my worst fear was realized. By December, those fears were confirmed: There was a problem with the plot and did I have anything else? I was a woman desperate not be rejected submitting other ideas to them that were promptly torpedoed.

HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME?$#!!!&^T! I wondered, fumed, and probably would have popped a gasket if my mother's illness had not helped me to place everything into proper perspective! Like a belwether tolling in the distance I began to see clearly though my fears had created this scenario that deep down inside I knew how I could choose for this to end. I let it all go. I relaxed into the knowledge that there is something greater than me that already knows how to handle everything including my success, (or not). I bet you know how this story ends too. Once I settled into my greater yet to be knowing, the publisher wrote back, if it's okay with you, we want to publish your original story.

Soooo, here's my next assignment: what other irrational fears are lurking just beneath my production level? It is time to let them go! I share this with you because others have laid the groundwork for helping me to let go of my own fears. Perhaps I can inspire you to take leaps this year you've been afraid to in the past! Are you ready? We are already into February! Ready, set, go!

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My daughter was married last month. Here is a link to her wedding pictures: http://homepage.mac.com/arterphotography/RamsonMcGeeProofs/

if anyone is so inclined to take a look. Seeing the pictures made me relive it all. The concern on my daughter's face when the weather proved uncooperative as it BLEW their carefully placed candles and all twelve three tiered candelabras out. Her face when she resolved in her heart it was all perfect just the way it unfolded down to moving the ceremony from the pavilion to a nearby covered area to shield us from the tropical storm force winds. You can see the tears of joy when they spoke their self written very untraditional vows. You cannot see the absolute delight she felt when she saw the lights (the only ones working) on the arch. You CAN see the damage done to my 2 hour coifed hairdo undone in two seconds leaving the hairdresser. You cannot see the sand blowing in the wind as they poured it symbolizing the joining of their lives. You can see the flowers they gave to the parents during the ceremony. You cannot feel the cold we felt and the way their love warmed us all. You can witness his obvious love for my daughter. You cannot see the two of us in the bathroom fixing our hair just before the reception. You can see the absolute hysterical joy we felt during the games we played at their wedding reception. It's traditional to play games at weddings in Holland. Her husband is a huge fan of games and had plans of opening a Gamestore until Hurricane Katrina derailed them. In one game the groom was blindfolded and told to feel the feet of several women to determine which was his bride's! Note the sheer frivolity in my face that bordered on pure mirth as my daughter chose from her dad, brother and friends to offer their feet for prodding. He couldn't decide between two and had to repeat the manuever ultimately deciding on her brother's feet as the winner! The second game was rigged in their favor as we played a game that was a cross between musical chairs and find the objects. Both had chosen teams and chairs placed on either side. Each team was responsible for procuring certain items. a chair would be removed from both sides as the items were found ultimately leaving them as the winners. You can't see the damage done to her wedding cake just on the other side of the picture hidden from view or to the cake that is so badly damaged from the wind and is deliberately NOT shown as it was served straight from the kitchen. You cannot know that the weather derailed plans of many planning to attend. But for those who came it was a memorable and treasured occasion. It is a joy to see my mom's face. (she's dressed in green) She looks frail yet happy and that we were all happily together is what matters most.

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We spent the last nine days in Holland visiting my husband’s family and friends. The differences between Holland and America are vast. My husband comes from a small cloistered, close-knit village two hours south of Amsterdam. I often tell others when I visit, it is like stepping back to a simpler time during the 60’s in America. That can be favorable, but also limited. It is quite frustrating that the only bank closes by noon in their tiny village and the few establishments also close by six o’clock most days when I am accustomed to everything being available 24/7 whenever I need it. ATM’s are readily available, yet it seems we always need to speak with a PERSON in the bank. Imagine my horror and deprivation after my debit card –my only means of getting services: cash, fuel, groceries, etc. – was eaten by the ATM machine in downtown Amsterdam, two hours away from home one weekend last summer. The matter could only be resolved by my husband during banking hours in the small town where the account was originally opened! No explanation could be given for why machines behave the way they do, only that it happens with great regularity to unsuspecting tourists.

When I first arrived mid January three years ago, it was all very new. I stayed in the farm house where my husband grew up. I remember being so cold the first night I changed beneath the covers to stay warm. We were not married then and we slept in separate rooms following his parent’s strict standards. It was quaint to see a gas burner over the kitchen sink for hot water. The family prays together before each meal and it is standard to read the Bible (in Dutch) after dinner before closing prayers. Television is not tolerated and none grace the premises.

Today, a new attitude of modernity is claiming Colijnsplaat. The gas burner is now gone and in its place a new modern faucet gleamed with an attached hot water pipe releasing hot water. There is a laptop in the house, that seldom works and a fax machine. There are snazzy new window upgrades courtesy of the Gemeente (community/court) House. Last year the village installed sleek new high powered windmills on the dike meters from their home producing enough noise to keep the parents awake at night, hence the new windows. His parents traveling to America was not up for discussion. They simply would not come.

This week, his parents, both knocking on seventy’s door, made the trip to America. They’ve never flown in a plane before and only traveled to countries within four hours of Holland their entire lives! Their eyes are as bright as mine were when first acquainting myself with their way of life. They sat center aisle adamantly declaring they would not look out the window! A few hours later, their excitement showed as they peered at small objects below from the plane window managing to use English words I would understand. At least thirty passengers seated near us got a complete description of what lay outside the window through Mom’s ever widening eyes and Dutch language! Mum even wanted to open the window for a better view! Arjo patiently explained why opening the window was impossible. For their first plane trip they receive the highest honors getting scared only once when mild turbulence unsteadied the plane. Their fears were well hidden, I think in part because they felt comforted we were with them and we didn’t seem alarmed.

Arjo chose to accompany his parents through Customs, but when I got to the front of the American line and explained my husband was with us parents in the non US line, the officer kindly told me to get all three and return to his line. I found them way in the back of the line and called and motioned for them to follow me. The customs officer gave them the best American welcome ever, even speaking a few Dutch words he’d gleaned over the years in the process! Our parents beamed and radiated.

New Orleans weather would not cooperate for it was as cold, rainy and wet as it was in Holland. The city is in the throes of an early carnival with Mardi Gras happening February 5th this year. Revelers are not so happy with the rain either. A quick call to Houston to check on my mom left me feeling gloomy like the weather. She is in the hospital following fever after a chemo treatment. Mom is also planning to come to New Orleans. Next month her Hurricane Katrina damaged home will be ready. There is one major problem. We are concerned that the treatment she will need is not available here in the New Orleans area. The nurses have advised the family to stop calling so much so my mom can rest. I’ve only called once and it seems grossly unfair.

Saturday was another wet day. Arjo’s father was up at 5am, though no one knew it. I made a round of coffee and hot tea and we all went to La Madeliene’s for breakfast, K’ Mart’s for postcards and to view what was left of the Farmer’s Market. A few vendors were out and another few were packing their wares to leave. In broken Dutch/English his parents shared they also have a Farmer’s market in Holland. We gave them a mini tour by car of the area. I remembered fondly picnics and swimming in the lake as a kid in Fountainbleau park. But as we drove through the devastated park, closed roads and fenced off areas led me to understand recovery is ongoing.

What to do on a rainy wet day when your parents don’t like music, movies, and can’t speak the language? You dress warmly, don a para-plue (umbrella) and go walking in the rain at the Nature Center! We saw some swamp, little wildlife, and lots of mud as we picked out way through one of the paths. Twenty minutes later I was sufficiently chilled to suggest heading back to the warm car. Not those European icebergs! They were just getting warm. But the thought of hot chocolate put a bounce in their step as we made our way back. They had a lot to say about their bird’s eye view of “Amer-ri-ca” and overall they like being here! They can understand after their inexpensive eggs crepe champignon morning meal with free refills what is so appealing.

Papa wants to bring home a tractor! It’s less than a $1000, considerably less than the 3000 Euros for the same in Holland. As we drove back home, they were picking out homes to buy for every body in the family! Homes here are seemingly expensive to them costing a fraction of what is comparable in Holland. Ever cautious mum quipped, “there are just too many beautiful homes to choose from—we can’t make a decision today!” Truth be told, there are things I like about both sides of the Atlantic. There are qualities from both camps that value family life, community and the human spirit. It’s not easy for me to put my finger on what exactly is so endearing. but this I know: people are important. None of us know when the time will come for goodbyes. Until then, I plan to find more of what I like about my in-laws and make sure they know it too. I told them what fine parents they are to have raised a man like Arjo. His parents beamed and said what a sweet child their son was. They implied he made there jobs easy. Ah, parents! Raising kids is not an easy job (neither is caring for aging parents) Yet there is definitely something about this job that makes people do it over and over again! For now my heart is straddled over both places. I cannot choose between one or the other. Both are home for very similar reasons. Now with his parents adventure, I just may be able to join the two in a way I had not quite imagined possible!

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Inner peace eluded me all day today. Something so simple as someone not following through on a promise caused me to feel ornery and upset and not at all my usual happy go lucky self. I wanted to be rid of this feeling, this annoyance on the edge of my consciousness that toyed with my emotions and my over all sense of well being much of the day. I sat in meditation for an hour soliciting peace. I felt like the monk who wrote he had a terrible toothache he could not rid himself of no matter what he did. Not a physical pain, but an emotionally charged trigger dislodged an inconsolable irritableness that was difficult to shake most of the day. Like most people, I have my share of emotions, but usually I can make a choice to continue to feel bad or not. Once I am aware that I am at choice, then it is usually very simple to release the emotion as simple as putting down a pencil I’ve been carrying. Not this time. This feeling would not be discharged, would not free me. And then my husband returned home from a neighborly visit. He saw me sitting obviously distressed about something. Once he discovered he was not the source of my distress, he sat next to me, put his arm around me, and watched me searching the internet for peace. I explained my frustration and loudly wailed, I simply wanted my peace back. I had entered only the word PEACE in the search menu and he suggested I enter the words inner peace. Voila. There were ten choices and more on inner peace. The first was an interview with the peace pilgrim. She certainly had words of wisdom to impart and gave me just the space in mind to distance myself from my annoying irritation. She gave steps for achieving inner peace. You can find her words of wisdom here: http://www.peacepilgrim.com/steps1.htm All good stuff for sure. The next site was pleasant enough, promising the gift of peace in five minutes. Beautiful pictures, lovely words and yes a sense of tranquility ensued. tofpeace.org/ My husband had slipped out of the room somewhere between Peace Pilgrim’s advice and the Gift of Peace promises, only to return with hot tea, and cookies. I took one look at those cookies, the love shining from his face and that bad feeling had left the building. A few sips of mango tea and cookie crumbs on my shirt later I realized how very blessed I am. Who would have known it would be that easy?

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Last night was particularly challenging because it is so painful knowing my mom doesn't have the time I thought she would have. Siblings/children are all grappling with letting go in their own way. I was talking to my daughter and she seemed to think I needed to dig deeper to find out what was really going on beneath my feelings. Somehow we weren’t connecting as her words just weren’t ringing true for me. So I did what was best for me and got off the phone. Tearfully, I called my friend Adona. Adona who has had open heart surgery responded with words good to my soul. She said, Angela you are letting go of someone you love. Just feel the pain of letting go. Don't fight it, really feel it because it is a hard thing to do. She was so right on target. Hearing her words gave me permission to just be with my feelings.

I did just that, crawling into my husband's arms (I am very fortunate to have him in my life) and let it all go. I cried and railed until I felt better. Oddly enough he was crying too, about his parents, as they are quite frail and up in age too. Well we had a lovely conversation about our parents. Isn't it amazing how much we come to trust and love our parents when we become more aware of just how limited our time can be? The thoughts that linger are: why am I more appreciative of her now and how come I haven't been more loving towards her? How come it has taken me this long to really appreciate her? Definitely thoughts I can do without because they don’t feel very loving. Yet the thoughts opened a dialog with myself and I felt peaceful. Painful moments never last, but they seem as if they will take you over if you feel too deeply.

I watched the movie "Two Weeks" during the holidays. Actress Sally Fields, plays the role of a dying mother and how her children deal with her ensuing death. It was hilarious and frankly good for my soul. The movie was tastefully done in my opinion. My friend Adona, did not laugh much at the movie and felt it more poignantly. She is fourteen years older than I and has lived through the deaths of her only daughter, a father and several dear friends. Everyone deals with death differently. My mom hasn’t died yet. She is very much living. How grateful I am to have time with her even if that time is filled with her pain.

I find this a time to practice peace within. I wish anyone reading this an unending peace. If you’d like to read some inspirational stories on life altering events as experienced by others visit here: http://www.gmrdesign.com/lifechallenges.org/people/people.html Another site has strange stories of passing over: http://www.psychics.co.uk/paranormal/passing_over.html

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As I see it, illness helps us to know we have bodies. Some times they hurt. Sometimes they hurt alot. My mom has been having a lot of pain because of her cancer. Some folks subscribe to the belief that illness can be stopped with the power of the mind. Eckhart Tolle among that number. I believe if you start early enough you can reverse the damage and eradicate illness all together. I have a tough time believing you can eradicate cancer in its final stages. It doesn't matter what I believe though, because I am not the one with cancer. I know there are poeple out there who have gotten rid of cancer in its final stages. I bet there are people in this world who have survived pancreatic cancer, I just don't know them.

Once my mom told me that illness serves a purpose. She said there are some sufferings that are meant to be. It is what God wants you to experience so you can get closer to God. I think you can be close to God without illness, without having to suffer.

I subscribe to the belief that illness/sickness/ pain is a need to punish one's self. Maybe I am like one of the five blind men when asked to describe the elephant decribed only the portion of the elephant's body they could touch. Maybe I only have a part of the whole picture.

Illness doesn't serve anyone. It has no purpose. We on the other hand do have a purpose. That purpose is to be the best we can be; to love as much as we can: ourselves and others.

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It is amazing how everything takes a backseat to what is really important. Life is really important. Life as I know it skidded to slow motion warp speed in three seconds when my mom told me she has fourth stage cancer. This week she shared she has pancreatic cancer. My mom and I were not always close and we (read I) have had to work very hard at creating a meaningful relationship. For one thing my grandmother raised me and I always thought of my mom as my sister. My mom always said this, so I bought into this belief. It served me at the time. Since I didn't have an older sister, it was cool thinking of my mom as my sister for a time. Funny thing is I seemed to be the older sister. My mom was always asking me questions and usually I knew the answers. I don't mean to sound arrogant here, that's how it was.

Now my mom won't be here much longer and I really see her as my mom now. Probably because we've fallen into having mother daughter conversations. Just when it seems I've finally gotten accustomed to having a mother, she's going to be leaving soon. I tell myself how fortunate I am to be able to have quality time with my mom. There are lots of people who never get a chance to say goodbye to their mom or appreciate them for who they really are.

The other day, I had a major insight: My mom is a wonderful person. How come I never saw my mom as a wonderful person until now? Guess I was too busy doing other things to notice. My mom doesn't have internet, so she'll probably never read this. Not a big deal because I plan to make sure she knows what a wonderful person she is.

Monday, the parent of one of my students was telling me how wonderful her daughter is. Yes, her daughter is wonderful, not because her mother says so. She's wonderful because that's what people are most of the time--wonderful. Most of the time, we are just too busy to see how wonderful the other person really is. When I saw my student later that day, she knew she was wonderful. Her mom probably told her what I said. And that day, she was truly wonderful. She didn't need to operate in her typical hyperactive mode. She knew she was wonderful and she behaved wonderfully.

Warp speed gives you an opportunity to really see what's important. I bet there are more wonderful people in my life I've failed to notice in the past. Thanks to my mom, I am more aware, more appreciative and happy to know what is really important are the people in our lives! This day make sure you let the important people in your life know just what they mean to you. You never know just how much time you have together so make the most of what you do have today.

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Judith Winehouse is here in Holland visiting before heading to a Russian wedding on Tuesday. Arjo and I scooped her and daughter Veronica from the Harwich ferry on Friday. We arrived early Friday morning ourselves in Amsterdam and were sleep deprived after an 6 ½ hour flight to Holland. We were also starving so we went to a charming little outdoor restaurant in Renesse. The weather here is warm and gorgeous. Ten year old adventurous Veronica went Bungee cord jumping across the street from the restaurant after ordering her dinner. No, not hanging by her ankles and coming to a halt just a few inches shy of the ground. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground as she bounced into the air swinging up and down for about 15 minutes before returning in time to eat her Tomaten soep and bread. Arjo and I needed protein and downed ribs and steak and Judith had the soup also. When we got home we told stories until we knew we better go to bed.

The next day we were up early with geese, went to the beach at Neeltje Jans, (an expo on sea life and water conditions in the area and how they built the dam) made sand castles and played in the water for about an hour before heading to Zerikzee. We walked around, bought a present for mom, downed Applegebakt (like apple pie) topped with slagroom (whipped cream), made graoceries and then headed to Goes to have their wedding present engraved, but the store was closed.

The best part of the day was spending the evening with friends eating barbecue. Judith discovered her Dutch name means house made of vines, or so we thought. We subsequently uncovered it actually means Wine House! Judith finally succeeded in getting the kids gathered together to tell them a Mother Goose story. You should have seen the smiles on the children’s faces as Arjo translated along. They were squealing, rocking and rolling singing a song…and everyone clapped enthusiastically when she was done. Hurrah for Judith! Well come to find out, she had only gotten them primed. They wanted another story, not just the kids, but all the adults too including me. But she insisted I go next much to my chagrin.

I told too and the grateful audience was thrilled that they heard two storytellers in one setting. We need to get the entire storytell list over here and then we can all wow them! After the barbecue it was still light at 10pm, so Arjo and I took them the harbor at Geersdijk and we walked and watched sailboats passing by. Then we went to Ismall’s place and had ice cream cones. We got in about midnight, said nightie-night to Veronica, opened the Bohemian champagne and celebrated our storytelling success and a wonderful day.

Today we ate Lost Bread for breakfast, called Rotten Bread in Dutch and French Toast in America before heading to Arjo’s parent’s church. The service was in Dutch. All the women wore hats and sat the entire time while the men stood to pray, stood to sing, picked up the collections and did the sermon. It was like going to church in the fifties in the south. The people sat for 45 minutes straight listening to someone read. THe kids were unbelievably well behaved the entire 2 hour service!!! We brought Veronica and Judith to meet Arjo’s parents and family members.

Next we went to tourist town Veere to eat at the Ostrich restaurant in an old storage cellar built in the 14th century. We were disapointed to find the restaurant was closed so we had ham and kass (cheese) baguettes (French bread) while sitting in front of the harbor. James Wisse came out of his home we were sitting in front and began telling us stories from World War 2 when he found out we were Americans. He said the stoop we were sitting on was built to prevent water from coming into their home. He spoke in good English he learned at 14 years old during the liberation of 1944! He said he learned from the Scottish and Canadians. He told us how they bombed the levees to make the Germans flee the area. It worked, but it destroyed a lot of people’s homes. He went with the soldiers on the buffalo tanks to farms to get the hay and beets to bring to the livestock holed up in the local church. The church was the highest point in the village and many times the soldiers were sleeping in the hay while the little boy of 14 years old drove the buffalo tanks!

Veere used to be the wool capital of the world in the 14th century. He told us stories about the Duke of Veere marrying Mary from Scotland. The Duke made certain of three conditions:

1) Veere would receive all the rights of trade between the known world and Scotland,

2) Mary would have a cistern to provide her rain water (clear water) all her life and

3) A church would be built in Veere for his daughter.

Find out more here and see a picture of the harbor: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veere Judith and Veronica took a picture in front of this windmill! http://www.planetware.com/picture/veere-nl-nlvr1.htm We also took a picture of James Wisse. We live in Wissekerke, so it is probable that Mr. Wisse is a descendant of the person our village is named for! Kerke means church.

James went riding off on his bicycle and we walked to the harbor and watched the ferry coming in. Afterwards we drove to Kamperland, walked in the woods, saw the wild horses from Poland, picked wild blackberries, dodged the nursing mother cows and bull and then returned home for a hastily put together meal of fresh salad and homemade Louisiana Jambalaya. Judith and I listened incredulously as Arjo unfolded this tale.

He went to Yugoslavia during the war in 1983. He says on one side of the Danube River it was peaceful and calm. A girl was standing outside the house singing. There were soldiers standing every 400 yards waiting for people to come across the river. On the other side of the river he saw flashes of light and heard rat-a-tat-tat-tat and tried to cross over to Sarajevo to see the war so he could come home with a story!!!

He wanted to shout peace to them! Luckily the soldiers questioned him asking if he was a journalist. Arjo said, no, he’s a tourist in the name of peace. They said, it’s a war! To the soldiers, he didn’t appear to understand, so they emphasized “boom-boom”! Arjo said, he could hear the rat-a-tat-tat-tat of the machine guns. They searched the trunk of his car and saw a blanket, half a loaf bread, a cup of butter and a jar of marmalade. They told him to turn around, we don’t let you in.

Then Arjo went to Romania when he crossed the border, there was a fuel shortage in Yugoslavia due to the embargo and all the poor Romanians came with cars loaded with gasoline containers to pay .25 a liter to sell for $1.50 to the Serbians waiting on the border with their cars. The air stunk of gasoline and soil polluted with gas from the quick exchanges. Arjo said they used newspaper and cardboard to serve as funnels for the gas!

The next day in Romania he met two boys, whose grandparents lived on a farm. They had a washing machine powered by a water wheel in the river. They had no bathroom and took care of their needs along with the cows in the barns by sitting on the hay and cleaning themselves with the hay. They had a wooden cistern propelled by a wheel that powered two logs making the water swirl in the cistern. He communicated with the family through hand signals and poor English as they could only speak German and Romanian. The grandfather had two big cisterns in which he made vodka from plums! He drank lots of vodka from the chicken egg cups. When he looked at the cisterns, he saw plenty of chickens sitting on the cisterns with no lids. He decided the vodka was not only made of plums!!! Arjo thought every season before making the vodka he probably had to dig the chicken dung out of the cisterns before starting.

In Romania, the policemen stop you and beg you for chocolates. Two days later he went through a city where there was a cement factory and there was no roof on the factory causing the city to be covered with a gray pallor. Arjo said it looked like a city made of concrete. He could see it was dust. The cities air were so polluted he had to drive through the day with his headlights on. During our recent trip to Hungary in the Communist Museum, we learned that the average life expectancy of people in Communist countries was extended from 55 years to 65 years. As we passed the river in route to our hotel one evening Arjo pointed out a tanker truck illegally dumping its contents in a remote area on the bank of the Danube River! I didn’t realize exactly what he was saying until much later. Judith said, she remembers having some plum vodka in England from storyteller, John Row’s Romanian brother in law! Judith says the vodka was great and she had a great time! They sat up telling stories late into the night drinking plum vodka! Judith insists she only had one glass and John two glasses! Right!!! I am listening to the stories and typing away!

He met a lady on the ferry between Romania and Bulgaria eating chocolates and she asked him if he had any chocolates with him. She warned him he would need chocolates for the Romanian police. Later he realized the police stopped him much in search of chocolate. It happened a few hours before and asked for chocolate. He gave him a caned tin of pineapples. The policeman didn’t really want pineapples, but he took it and let him go on. Before he got on the ferry he was stopped by Douana (customs) and it was expected that passengers would slip money into the passport for quick passage. Arjo says he did not add money to his passport. When stopped he was questioned for drugs and his passport three times and each time, Arjo did not add money. The last time Arjo told him he would not give him his passport, for he had already seen it twice! The guard told him, if you don’t give me the passport I make you sit here for two days before you go to Bulgaria. Arjo says he gave it to him still with no money. Within 10 minutes they finally dismissed him. The ferry boat was covered with four to six inches of snow but had no protective barriers, so he moved very slow up the sloped ramp. When he entered Bulgaria, he paid $4 or a man selling tickets to go through a puddle to “disinfect” your vehicle. The puddle was only snow and ice and nothing more.

In Bulgaria he was warned by at a gas station by an old man to never give his passport to the police because then he would have to buy it back!!! Later, he passed a truck filled with sheep. The sheep were packed so tight they could not move. The interstate also had no guard rails. Arjo took a picture of the old truck. The men in the truck saw the picture being taken, turned around in the middle of the road in pursuit of Arjo. A policeman saw the truck make the illegal turn, stopped the truck found out about the picture taking, released the truck and went after Arjo. The policeman stopped Arjo and demanded his passport. Arjo complied. They asked for the camera in hopes Arjo would pay them off in exchange for keeping the camera. The policemen went to their car and began writing up a ticket. Arjo waited and went to the front of the police car and began writing down their license plate number and the time of day. The policemen looked up saw Arjo taking down their information and one nudged the other pointing to Arjo. They threw Arjo’s passport back to him and motioned saying go, go, go!

In the middle of the night, there was no traffic and a foot passage in the middle of the road. The light went red indicating stop for a crossing person. A policeman was standing there and had pushed the button to make their car stop. Arjo stopped saw the policeman, saw there was another police further up the road waiting for them to run the red light. He waited until the light turned green he drove off. A little while later, he stopped at the gas station and the man filled up his car and told him that will be seventy German Marks. Arjo questioned in disbelief, you mean --Seventeen? The man again enunciated SEVENTY! Arjo thought about it and then said, I don’t want it, take it out! The man looked at Arjo incredulously. The man said, huh? Arjo said, I don’t want it take it out! After a round of negotiations he paid twenty German marks and went on his way! He then told us the story of two young Dutch boys who stopped at the station to fill up their tanks and met with the same demand. Instead of negotiating with the man, they simply drove off, were later captured and spent two weeks in a Romanian prison for their faux pas.

We opened a bottle of delicious Hungarian wine made for kings and drank a toast in honor of people everywhere, the ignorant, the wise and the storytellers that tell their stories! Wish you were all here!

In the spirit of sharing, Angela Davis

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Yesterday I told to Louisiana students in the heart of New Orleans following their closing summer camp culminating activities. Before I shared stories, I watched as the students danced, drummed and poured their hearts into their presentations. Unlike most audiences that are quiet when someone else is performing, the audience was loud and talked openly throughout each set. Yep, this was a post Katrina audience all right. These kids and their parents have been through a lot. I had encountered many such audiences even now almost two years later. Who knows how many times as a result of displacements and FEMA changes or even still living in a substandard housing trailer? Having to adjust to a lack of facilities, proper resources and who knows what else? But our people have heart!

I felt proud watching these kids and their parents watching them. Each class had prepared to share and they were awesome. As I sat in the audience seeing raw talent shine through, I wondered how many of those children would continue to let their lights shine so bright becoming future successes. How could I help these kids hold onto their dreams and to continue to shine? I could do it by giving them skills in my stories to use in their lives. The drumming started and I was transported via the sounds to parades around New Orleans, watching the music move the crowds as marchers shook, shimmied and rocked to the syncopated beats. Those kids were reminding me of life and Louisiana. We are survivors. We clapped and stomped our feet for our kids, their talent, their “heart” coming through and they beamed!

One young man was an awesome dancer as he led a troop of girls in a dance sequence. I could almost imagine him in a Broadway production belting out his moves with precision and finesse. I heard him in between sets, telling “his” girls where they messed up. The students ranged in age from 4 to 14 years of age. I was getting a glimpse of those children that would take their place as leaders, their leadership skills shining brightly. They were the ones standing out in front, confidently following their well rehearsed plans. The others were followers, keeping an eye on the leaders out front. I wanted to take those future “leaders” and give them further skills to be super successful before they were lost to improper focus, training and lack of opportunities. A mixture of school districts have been up and running in the New Orleans area since December 2005, but will begin offering limited services for talented and gifted kids starting with the 2007-8 school term. Forget services for the kids excelling in dance. No services have ever been provided for them that I am aware of, with the exception of what parents are able to provide.

The performances were over much too soon. I heard myself being introduced by the principal. I wanted to say let’s watch the kids perform again. Instead I walked to the front of the room. The mike was of no use to me, having not been able to hear much being said by the host introducing the classes. I did away with the mike, knowing my voice was not quite yet healed from the summer cold I contracted early on and two months of daily storytelling performances had strained my voice considerably. I forced (willed) my voice to be heard. The crowd snapped to attention and or a few blessed moments It was literally quiet. I urged everyone to applaud the students and their talents again for a job well done and everyone wholeheartedly did.

I told stories, and the crowd participated, but there were many I lost. Most disheartening for me was hearing the parents talking louder than the kids. It was not my day, it was a day for the children to shine. What mattered most was witnessing these kids shine. I was seeing the spirit of this city in the students’ performances. Seeing the pride in their parents’ eyes, I knew they had come for their kids and their part was finished. So I asked God for help. It was too much for me even as I finished my first story. The audience applauded. I could tell they genuinely enjoyed the story. If I could have stopped there I would have. But it would not have been fair to have been paid for a full hour and telling only one tale. I felt overwhelmed knowing I still had another story to do and wondered if my voice could handle the strain. But then I drew the audience in. I brought the parents, the teachers, the principal and the kids into the story. It was one big celebration of our children all over again. The spotlight was back on the kids and this time their parents and teachers too.

It was a good day. It was a hard day that was well worth the effort for everyone involved.

Best Compliment Ever!

I just had to share this gem: I think I received the best ever compliment a storyteller could receive yesterday when a young girl of about seven approached me after my show and said, I remember you from last year and I remembered your stories. I told them to everybody at school, to my family and to anyone who would listen. I was delighted. I think it's exactly what kids should do...retell the stories they hear!

The story I told this summer takes an hour to tell. It's an ancient Baba Yaga tale from Russia not in the main stream. I had reservations about sharing it, mainly because of its length, but it has been a real crowd pleaser. As the patrons are coming in about 1/2 hour beforehand I show them my pictures from Russia and other places around the world along with tidbits about other storytellers I've met and stories from my world adventures. When everyone is nearly gathered about 5 minutes beforehand, I start with a Russian dance and then lead into the story.

Amazingly the kids sit through the whole thing and at the end no one can believe we've been listening to one story for a solid hour! At the end of the story, the kids help to destroy the Yaga with plastic spiders I pass out. They get to keep the spiders and I tell them if they have bad dreams they can keep the spiders in their rooms, but be sure to say their prayers too, and like the Native American dream catcher, the spider will keep away bad dreams. It's like watching a movie in your mind. In response to one of the evaluation comments someone wrote the worse thing about this program was that it ended! I asked the little girl if she thought she would remember this long story too. Now I bet you already know her reply! I took her picture and plan to post it on my website along with her accomplishments.

Her grandmom was from France and told me at a different time how her grand daughter recited not only the stories from last year, but the stories from the year before last too! I wish I could clone her!

Thanks for letting me chime in to share this incredible child and an incredible summer.

In the spirit of sharing, Angela Davis

PS. Louisiana Division of the Arts notified two tellers that we had been hand picked to participate in an upcoming special competition that includes other artists! I turned in my materials today! Keep me in your prayers!

Success is Easy?!

During a whirlwind tour of Europe this past spring, one of the teachers shared with me as we walked back to the library after a performance for the entire school, “Your message is great. It’s good that the students hear you saying they can do anything, but it is not as simple as that. It takes hard work to be successful. I think you may be misleading the kids into thinking that anything can be that easy. It takes lots of hard work to be successful.” His comments gave me pause. What was I teaching to kids, to teachers, to everyone I met along the way? Had I communicated such a glib lesson that you can do anything if you put your mind to it?

What I know is long before the movie “The Secret” made its appearance, I have been proving anyone, including an inner city kid like me, could be successful. It can be summed up in this simple statement: Persistence gives confidence and continued right mental attitude followed by constant action will bring success. I set out to help others along the way by offering FREE workshops teaching the necessary principles for achieving success over the years. I taught freely for the simple enjoyment of helping others, plus it helped me to “set” these principles in my own mind. As a result my storytelling business has been wildly successful for the past twenty years. I have enjoyed nearly nonstop engagements, given workshops for others including the National Storytelling community, provided training for teachers, received awards, recognition and ovations from a million plus people around the world, all while sharing my gift and love for story.

The movie “The Secret” does indeed teach if you can believe it, you can easily achieve it. What the movie does not teach, nor can I in public school settings, is there is a relationship inside of every person, that must be nurtured at all costs. I was taught this principle in Sunday school along with countless other gems: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and everything will be added unto you.” In doing so, anyone can be led down the perfect path, attracted to wonderful opportunities and provided with all that’s needed because you know in whom your trust is placed. I wish I had the time to explain to that teacher in a coherent manner, that anyone can achieve success if they nurture and build a relationship with the Divine first in their lives. No matter how insurmountable the odds are or how daunting and difficult the task before you, you will walk through it with grace and ease so that it all seems effortless looking back. I cannot explain my success, nor how easy it has been for me. What I know as I have been teaching all along, the secret to success is loving yourself enough to put first things first and what you need will surely follow. We can choose to make it easy or hard for ourselves. No doubt, the teacher speaking to me had chosen to make it harder than it needed to be for him and for others.

So there you have it in a nutshell, the secret of my success is a belief system. A belief system that guides me into making treasure maps showing pictures of me achieving my goals on paper. Underneath my desires is someone greater than me who really does all the work. I receive the best stories, meet the best people, and live the best life. Last night my husband, while driving his brand new SUV from the dealer said to me, Honey, I’ve realized another goal from my treasure map. This car was pasted on my map we did last year during the workshop you gave in Joplin, Missouri. The only difference was his new car was blue and not black like the one on his treasure map. It really is that easy, isn’t it? Well, I suppose you have to decide for yourself. In the meantime, I‘ll keep on teaching you can do, be or have anything you want. It really is that easy.

I am a Writer!

Hello there, I’ve been writing for years now. It’s the first time I decided to place it on my blog instead writing to the storytell list. The storytell list has been a wonderful place full of other storytellers to write my ideas. Like a kid learning to walk, I placed my ideas before them. You can find some of my posts here: StorytellPosts. They helped me by giving me feedback.

Most times people loved what I wrote. Other times, they shared their observations in ways that made me feel I could write. You see, I never thought of myself as a writer. I have been trying to prove to myself I can write. I was scared to write even though I have been writing most of my life! I have written two children’s books that include illustrations. You can find my two children’s books here:

• Michaul and the Crawfish
• Soldier Bob Finds Peace

I have written a newsletter for storytellers called Story Success that provided tips for being successful. I started offering the newsletter to Louisiana storytellers first, then later offered it to storytellers online through the National Storytelling Network. You can find it here: StorySuccess.

I have written a manual for artists on how to create successful performances and tie the national standards to your performance art. You can find my online workshop for artists here: Artist Workshop.

I even wrote a manual for the National Storytelling Network on how to raise funds for our organization filled with ideas for creating funds! You can find that information here: Fundraising?

From all this work, looks like I am a writer! Okay, I’ve convinced myself now! Let’s see what happens next!