My daughters have great fun “making fun” of me, their mom.  I love telling stories.  And, I come from a long line of story tellers.  Life is one big story, isn’t it?  My grandpa and grandma Bailey’s stories have been handed down to me through my mom.  It makes me feel connected to them.  I imagine what their lives were like as my mom shares their stories with me.  Then there’s all my stories from growing up overseas in Bolivia – it’s fun to recapture experiences and relate them to my girls.  And a whole new crop of stories sprung up from my girls’ childhood.  We laugh and cry over the stories and it keeps us connected as a family.  And, for whatever reason, really wierd things always happen to me (like the pigeon landing on my car and hitching a ride just for fun down 120th avenue for several blocks before flying away….)  so there is always a plethora of stories from life to share. 

The fun thing about a story is a new audience, the bad part of that is if part of the new audience includes the old audience – like when the old audience (aka my girls) is sitting there with the new audience.  Then I see the agony on their faces, “Oh know, there she goes again, watch…..pretty soon she’ll tell the pigeon story!”   🙂   But I boldly continue, ignoring the panicked look on their faces and adding a story or two about each of them – just to spite them for their attitudes about me telling (or retelling) a story!

Thanksgiving is right around the corner and I’m excited!  Our family, and extended family and friends, are gathering together at my sister Julia’s house.  There will be great food, lots of laughter, and my favorite – a bunch of story telling!  Though my girls won’t probably want to admit it, they, along with a bunch of other Morarie family(and Rob) are big fat story tellers themselves and everyone competes for the floor to tell their story.  What’s more fun is when parts of the story that accidentally left out are quickly added as everyone adds their version!

Stories are important!  Throughout history, telling stories (oral tradition) is a powerful way to preserve history. Family legends are passed down,  historical moments are remembered, and imaginations are energized as each person paints a mental picture of the story that is being told.  And someday, stories are all that’s left when someone you love is gone.

In a day where technology sometimes isolates us from personal face-to-face connection, I say, Long Live Story Telling!  So there!

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About cakboliv

Born in Cochabamba, Bolivia to wonderful missionary parents, Howard and Maxine Morarie. Grew up in Bolivia, both in a remote jungle village

2 responses »

  1. mark says:

    For those of you who might find it hard to believe some of these “stories”, there is an old tradition we have. You hold your index finger pointing up, just below you eye and then pull downward. Carolann will understand that signal right away. She may urge you to believe her but you can just keep signalling….

  2. […] But, more important than this great day of traditions and gathering together, it’s a day I truly am reminded how thankful I am. Thankful for God’s blessings to me, often undeserved.  Thankful for my husband and my daughters…my extended family, my friendships, my job, my house, and the list could go on forever.  It is also a day where memories run deep from past Thanksgivings and remembering those who are no longer with us.  And it’s a great day for stories to be retold, each year new twists are added and the stories become more colorful, and new people carry them on to other ears to be retold… […]

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