Stories are medicine.

[Winterbottom]

I have been taken with stories ever since I was a kid and told ghost
stories deep in our basement while our parents did their partying
upstairs. It was me doing the telling and the other children doing
the listening in the dark. I was a good story teller back then. High
drama was my theme. The stories were designed to provoke extreme
reactions from the little children (I was usually the tallest
therefore felt like the oldest). The "people" in my stories were
ghosts and witches and the boogey-man and a headless man and a
headless woman carrying her own head.

It is an art to tell a story well. Over the years I've forgotten
about my love of story telling. It is there. If I can find a safe
environment my stories can be re-told and shared once again. I have
lots of them. They are not all creepy. This is a group of people's
stories. They are for YOU to contemplate and read in order to help
you find your wonder-full selves. They are to help you care for the
earth, animals, oceans, forests, mountains, streams, children, family
and community.

If you want the full body/mind/spirit experience then tell your
stories and listen to stories too. If you have lost your treasure map
and can't find the doorway or even a window then look around you.
What do you love? What fulfills you? What turns you on? What old
stories do you have in you that want to be told? These are all doors
and windows.

Tell your stories.

I will listen.

-M

[Dafydd]

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.

Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.

When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.

I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.

The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

[Winterbottom]

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

So in your experience do you feel your younger brother was favourtised
over you?

-M

[Dafydd]

Post by Winterbottom

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

So in your experience do you feel your younger brother was favourtised
over you?
-M

No, not exactly.... mum wanted to be fair to everyone.
This was her way of being fair to my brother.

[vicki]

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

Hi David, Megan and all who are still here.
I've just read your story and followed you on this journey
which I find long but wondrous for a five or six year old.
I think I might tell a story of my long journey when I was about 9 or
10... :>)
-V

[Winterbottom]

Post by vicki

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

Hi David, Megan and all who are still here.
I've just read your story and followed you on this journey
which I find long but wondrous for a five or six year old.
I think I might tell a story of my long journey when I was about 9 or
10...   :>)
-V- Hide quoted text -
- Show quoted text -

Stories make the world go 'round.

[Dafydd]

Post by Winterbottom

Post by vicki

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

Hi David, Megan and all who are still here.
I've just read your story and followed you on this journey
which I find long but wondrous for a five or six year old.
I think I might tell a story of my long journey when I was about 9 or
10...   :>)
-V- Hide quoted text -
- Show quoted text -

Stories make the world go 'round.

I have a 16 year old co-worker at the moment. We talked about the
stories which influence
our lives.... the hare and the tortoise, and the boy who cried
wolf....

i wish i could tell jokes better... i sometimes wonder how a joke can
travel three times
around the world and come back in just about its identical form...

I think jokes tel us a lot about what is and isn't okay.

I think the best joke tells against the teller....

Joker walks into a pub.
I Think the missis is dead.

Dead? what makes you think that?

Well. the sex is still ok.... but the dishes are starting to mount up.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

but i still love old familiar rhymes....

"Steep was the hill,
green was the grass-
down came the billy goat
sliding on his overcoat."

[vicki]

Post by vicki

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

Hi David, Megan and all who are still here.
I've just read your story and followed you on this journey
which I find long but wondrous for a five or six year old.
I think I might tell a story of my long journey when I was about 9 or
10...   :>)
-V

There were two boys who lived on the conner at the end of my block
where I grew up.
They were a year or so older then I was at the time. I was about nine
or ten.
Every year after Christmas all the trees were put out by the street to
be picked up and taken away.
These boys would go collect the thrown out Christmas trees and bring
them all to their back yard.
They would cut the branches off and tie the tree trunks together and
make different things with them.
One of the things they made was a raft. We lived just about four
blocks from the Miami River.
We carried the raft down the streets and to the river and placed the
raft in the water.
The boys held the raft as I and some other kids got on. They were
last to get on the raft as
we began to float down and across the Miami River which seemed very
wide and the river flowed quickly.
When we reached the other side of the river we all got off the raft
and began to walk through the woods.
After a while we all went back to the raft and floated back across the
river.
At the time I wasn't afraid at all. Now as I think back, it was a very
dangerous trip crossing the Miami river
on a boy made raft. -V

[Winterbottom]

Post by vicki

Post by vicki

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

Hi David, Megan and all who are still here.
I've just read your story and followed you on this journey
which I find long but wondrous for a five or six year old.
I think I might tell a story of my long journey when I was about 9 or
10...   :>)
-V

There were two boys who lived on the conner at the end of my block
where I grew up.
They were a year or so older then I was at the time.  I was about nine
or ten.
Every year after Christmas all the trees were put out by the street to
be picked up and taken away.
These boys would go collect the thrown out Christmas trees and bring
them all to their back yard.
They would cut the branches off and tie the tree trunks together and
make different things with them.
One of the things they made was a raft.  We lived just about four
blocks from the Miami River.
We carried the raft down the streets and to the river and placed the
raft in the water.
The boys held the raft as I and some other kids got on.  They were
last to get on the raft as
we began to float down and across the Miami River which seemed very
wide and the river flowed quickly.
When we reached the other side of the river we all got off the raft
and began to walk through the woods.
After a while we all went back to the raft and floated back across the
river.
At the time I wasn't afraid at all. Now as I think back, it was a very
dangerous trip crossing the Miami river
on a boy made raft.  -V- Hide quoted text -
- Show quoted text -

I'll say! That was very adventurous of you all. It also shows how as
children of our generation we had so many things to be grateful for.
Adventures outside in nature are so good for children's brain
development and practicing social and survival skills. These clever
boys who made the raft were working as a team and collaborating
together in the true natue of community. Good story Vic.

-M

[vicki]

Post by vicki

Post by vicki

Post by Dafydd

Post by Winterbottom
I will listen.
-M

Nana and Pop visited England in 1954. They bought back a chain
tricycle for the family.
Mum had it locked up in the spray shed. It was bought out when my
younger brother was
old enough to ride it.
When I was five or six my mum let me ride it over to my friend's. Fred
lived over the
river about a mile away. i rode it down the hill into the gully, down
past the church and hall,
past the pub and over the main road. The old concrete bridge was one-
way.
I must have spent most of the day at Roger's. Then i rode home.
The tricycle was handed down to each kid and after that went to
Roger's youngest
sister over the river.

Hi David, Megan and all who are still here.
I've just read your story and followed you on this journey
which I find long but wondrous for a five or six year old.
I think I might tell a story of my long journey when I was about 9 or
10...   :>)
-V

There were two boys who lived on the conner at the end of my block
where I grew up.
They were a year or so older then I was at the time.  I was about nine
or ten.
Every year after Christmas all the trees were put out by the street to
be picked up and taken away.
These boys would go collect the thrown out Christmas trees and bring
them all to their back yard.
They would cut the branches off and tie the tree trunks together and
make different things with them.
One of the things they made was a raft.  We lived just about four
blocks from the Miami River.
We carried the raft down the streets and to the river and placed the
raft in the water.
The boys held the raft as I and some other kids got on.  They were
last to get on the raft as
we began to float down and across the Miami River which seemed very
wide and the river flowed quickly.
When we reached the other side of the river we all got off the raft
and began to walk through the woods.
After a while we all went back to the raft and floated back across the
river.
At the time I wasn't afraid at all. Now as I think back, it was a very
dangerous trip crossing the Miami river
on a boy made raft.  -V- Hide quoted text -
- Show quoted text -

I'll say!  That was very adventurous of you all.  It also shows how as
children of our generation we had so many things to be grateful for.
Adventures outside in nature are so good for children's brain
development and practicing social and survival skills.  These clever
boys who made the raft were working as a team and collaborating
together in the true natue of community.  Good story Vic.
-M

Thanks Megan... :>)

[Dafydd]

This is a story i wrote down when i was 20 or 21.

It was more than a fable i think.... the setting for my story
was my own back yard as a kid.... tall poplars. a walnut tree,
weeping willows.... a garage, henhouse...


Once there was a little pipe mouse who lived in a pipe.

it lay against a henhouse. The little pipe mouse was very busy
most of the time collecting food for his wife and family of
eight kids

One day he was wandering around the farmyard gathering stray
grains of wheat. A hen marched up to him and asked:

"what are you up to, little pipe mouse?"

"driving a long white neptune" was the mouse's reply.

Puzzled, the hen went away and said to her friends:

"I think that little mouse who lives over there by the
side of the henhouse is a little bonkers."

The next day another hen came upon the mouse.
he was out under a tuft of grass gathering straw.

"What are you doing?" said the hen.

"Oh, I am rapping rays of sunlight for a higher wedding,"
replied the mouse.

"Well!" said the hen to her confederates a little later-"
that little pipe mouse is becoming chronic!"

"Yes," said another hen, we shall have to do something
about this state of affairs."


Later the rooster stuckhis head out of the door
of the henhouse and shook his flaming red comb.

"why?, why," thought the rooster, why should that little
pipe mouse be sitting out on that poplar leaf singing to himself?"

he strutted towards the mouse and crowed:
"Hey, what are you doing sitting on that poplar leaf?"

"oh, I'm just mixing pieces of ice from a winter's journey"
said the little mouse, and he just carried on singing.


The rooster beat the dust from his wings and flew up
on to the highest branches of the willow. He crowed

loudly, summoning his community from the fartherest
reaches of the farm.

"What do we think of the little pipe mouse who
cannot say anything which makes any sense?"

The decision was unanimous. The poor little mouse
scurried for his life amongst the flaying feet of the hens.

he managed, badly scratched and exhausted
to get back to his pipe house. The hens set upon

the pipe with a flurry of feathers.
As soon as the pipe fell the

whole henhouse crashed down around them all.


-David.

[vicki]

Post by Dafydd
This is a story i wrote down when i was 20 or 21.
It was more than a fable i think.... the setting for my story
was my own back yard as a kid.... tall poplars. a walnut tree,
weeping willows.... a garage, henhouse...
Once there was a little pipe mouse who lived in a pipe.
it lay against a henhouse. The little pipe mouse was very busy
most of the time collecting food for his wife and family of
eight kids
One day he was wandering around the farmyard gathering stray
"what are you up to, little pipe mouse?"
"driving a long white neptune" was the mouse's reply.
"I think that little mouse who lives over there by the
side of the henhouse is a little bonkers."
The next day another hen came upon the mouse.
he was out under a tuft of grass gathering straw.
"What are you doing?" said the hen.
"Oh, I am rapping rays of sunlight for a higher wedding,"
replied the mouse.
"Well!" said the hen to her confederates a little later-"
that little pipe mouse is becoming chronic!"
"Yes," said another hen, we shall have to do something
about this state of affairs."
Later the rooster stuckhis head out of the door
of the henhouse and shook his flaming red comb.
"why?, why," thought the rooster, why should that little
pipe mouse be sitting out on that poplar leaf singing to himself?"
"Hey, what are you doing sitting on that poplar leaf?"
"oh, I'm just mixing pieces of ice from a winter's journey"
said the little mouse, and he just carried on singing.
The rooster beat the dust from his wings and flew up
on to the highest branches of the willow. He crowed
loudly, summoning his community from the fartherest
reaches of the farm.
"What do we think of the little pipe mouse who
cannot say anything which makes any sense?"
The decision was unanimous. The poor little mouse
scurried for his life amongst the flaying feet of the hens.
he managed, badly scratched and exhausted
to get back to his pipe house. The hens set upon
the pipe with a flurry of feathers.
As soon as the pipe fell the
whole henhouse crashed down around them all.
-David.

I like this story you wrote here.

There is a lesson to learn from this story.
When the hens decided to do the mouse in because they didn't
understand the mouse,
they did it to there own destruction. I imagine that the mouse was
safe in the pipe when
henhouse crashed down upon them all... :>) -V

[Winterbottom]

Post by Dafydd
This is a story i wrote down when i was 20 or 21.
It was more than a fable i think.... the setting for my story
was my own back yard as a kid.... tall poplars. a walnut tree,
weeping willows.... a garage, henhouse...
Once there was a little pipe mouse who lived in a pipe.
it lay against a henhouse. The little pipe mouse was very busy
most of the time collecting food for his wife and family of
eight kids
One day he was wandering around the farmyard gathering stray
"what are you up to, little pipe mouse?"
"driving a long white neptune" was the mouse's reply.
"I think that little mouse who lives over there by the
side of the henhouse is a little bonkers."
The next day another hen came upon the mouse.
he was out under a tuft of grass gathering straw.
"What are you doing?" said the hen.
"Oh, I am rapping rays of sunlight for a higher wedding,"
replied the mouse.
"Well!" said the hen to her confederates a little later-"
that little pipe mouse is becoming chronic!"
"Yes," said another hen, we shall have to do something
about this state of affairs."
Later the rooster stuckhis head out of the door
of the henhouse and shook his flaming red comb.
"why?, why," thought the rooster, why should that little
pipe mouse be sitting out on that poplar leaf singing to himself?"
"Hey, what are you doing sitting on that poplar leaf?"
"oh, I'm just mixing pieces of ice from a winter's journey"
said the little mouse, and he just carried on singing.
The rooster beat the dust from his wings and flew up
on to the highest branches of the willow. He crowed
loudly, summoning his community from the fartherest
reaches of the farm.
"What do we think of the little pipe mouse who
cannot say anything which makes any sense?"
The decision was unanimous. The poor little mouse
scurried for his life amongst the flaying feet of the hens.
he managed, badly scratched and exhausted
to get back to his pipe house. The hens set upon
the pipe with a flurry of feathers.
As soon as the pipe fell the
whole henhouse crashed down around them all.
-David.

It's a little bit like "Live and let live?" Diversity makes the world
go 'round?

The meanies who go around in packs picking on the minority groups will
get theirs - when they least expect it.

-M