A Reason to Smile

                                     A Reason To Smile

        Anoka Historical Society called, they asked us for our Corvid Story, Kyle's coming in in an hour to work with me on it. If I couldn't write this without crying how on Earth will we do a video? Kyle's talented. He will find a way. 

International news was alarming. We talked about it. In February we adjusted the schedule so part time staff with family members who are high risk were taken off the schedule. I thought about my days working in medical settings, about fifteen years ago. MRSA, Norwalk Virus. What did we do to keep our patients safe? Bleaching surfaces. Washing frequently touched surfaces. Hand washing and do not touch your face! All the lessons flooded back. With my handy bleach bucket I scrubbed down shelves, handles, railings, countertops, doors; knowing this would become a new regular routine. 

Mark created a Whistler order page and set up an ongoing case sale for Whistler sodas to encourage people to maintain quarantine and minimize interaction for safety. We started getting phone calls, emails and facebook messages for our “online” orders, packing boxes and writing messages of humor, inspiration and gratitude on the boxes. You are a reason to smile. Thank you. Every Blue Sun staff took a marker and got to write or draw on boxes to send out to the folks at home. 

Not the most artistic box, for that either Kyle or Neal's boxes were the best.

Each time the news got scarier, Mark came to me. “How are we doing? How do you feel about this?”

I looked at him each time. “I want to stay open. We are essential.” We are classified as a Grocery Store, so yes, we are essential. He always asked. Was I scared? Hell yes, but I’ve never let fear rule my life. What we do is important. I got home every night for the first few weeks of quarantine and took long hot showers to destress and wash the fear of exposure away. 

But there’s a more important reason we are essential. We are peace of mind, stress reduction, and sweet, sweet soda. In times of stress, one of the most important things a person can have is a reason to smile. As stupid as I may sound, think of the darkest, worst times in your life- what turned those moments around or made them easier to deal with? 

When my Grandfather died, it was Birch beer. He was with me when I drank it. Still is. Birch beer is a hug and a smile from one of the kindest human beings who walked this planet. I know how crucial it is during turmoil to have comfort.

We stayed open. Cleaning. Encouraging sales through phone and internet. Writing messages on boxes. Between online orders there were hours of fifties music and quiet aisles. What could I do to make things better? I spent years telling stories and painting with children. I got out the paints. Started painting in the store. Redid the mural in the Jungle bathroom. Painted an outer space mural in the arcade. Mark said “Keep going!” I painted blinking back tears, thinking of our families out there. Missing the kids and regulars. Hoping everyone is okay. 

A Blue Sun & Super Hero Girl in Space

Mark came up with the idea for Easter. Easter baskets with soda and candy. Several young patrons gave me feedback on the prototype baskets. Mark listened and got eggs with toys inside and little stuffed animals. We thought we would get orders for about 20 of them. We got orders for over 150. I frantically reached out to our part time staff; they were delighted to get to come to work. It felt so good to have them back in the store, to hear their voices as they made jokes. We literally got to be the Easter Bunny, and it was an honor! It was fantastic to see the delight of customers picking up their baskets. Ted, Kyle, Ken, William and Dru adjusted their schedules to make the magic happen. 

Prototype Baskets

It’s a different world today than it was a few months ago. We encourage social distancing, wearing masks in public, and we are even more mindful of cleanliness. We’ve remodeled the soda fountain area with a fresh "new" oldies look. We have cool new murals, and we’ve labelled sodas based on sweeteners to make things easier  for customers. Our customers give us a reason to strive, you inspire us. 

Neal makes fill in faces, Brantley was the first I saw come back!

Today, Julia came in and gave me masks for our employees. Curt brought us 3 D printed pieces that make masks more comfortable to wear. There’s someone at least once a day who comes by just to pick up a soda and connect for a couple of minutes with a joke or story. We share, from six feet away. Our days are mutually better because we have those essential moments. What we do is important. How we do it is important. Our Blue Sun Family is amazing, we’re making it through this together and we’re doing it with a smile, sense of humor and soda. 

       Micaela, working on her degree in Graphic Design did a photo shoot with Whistler. We are planning to make a display with an attribution to show of her skill! Billy is plotting posters and stickers. Kyle is working on the video project. We support the growth of our employees by letting them shine, giving them the chance to share their talents and skills with you. We encourage them to follow their dreams, knowing part of their dream is the same as ours and that's why they choose to be part of Blue Sun. 

Angela R. Hunt, Manager Blue Sun Soda Shop, Author & Storyteller

Storyteller Steps into Business Land

Is life like Groundhog Day, the same day repeated with slight variations as you live almost on autopilot? Is life like a Robert Rankin novel, where characters evolve and sudden plot twists spin everything on it's ear?
It's somewhere in between. Chaos mixed with routine.
One year telling stories on stage, the next behind the scenes researching products, price points, managing inventories and employees, focusing on sales rather than the impact of words.
It's different when you're used to direct interaction to step back and be responsible for the sales folk you select, wanting the people who have the skill and talent to connect with patrons. Why?
Because the highest quality interactions involve connecting. Finding the people with a knack for connecting with other people, who brighten other people's experience is possibly the hardest challenge whether you're creating a sales force or casting a show.
In a disconnected world, connection is valuable. It enhances our mood and gets us out of our heads.
Running five businesses that rotate products based on venue and season is a challenge. Keeping numbers and the mental to do list straight, tracking sales and inventory to make better ordering decisions. Figuring out how to display and sell overstock and taking care of back stock so it retains full value when it finally hits the shelves. Watching sales trends and price points. Figuring out how to communicate with employees to keep their morale up and to keep them focused on doing a good job. Expressing gratitude when jobs are well done. Addressing issues as neutral problems to solve rather than accusations or issues of blame. Accountability. Accepting mistakes are a part of life, and are going to happen, so document them: address them and go forward.
Plan ahead. Make a list of goals and work toward them. Without a  long term goal it's Groundhog Day, eventually your mood and attitude will tank.
Take the time to take care of you, which means taking care of your environment too. Nutrition, sleep, play, socialization, light, and laughter. Are you getting enough?
When you're a boss with employees: are they getting enough? Enough support, communication, information, products, guidance and stability outside the workplace- even though that's not boss responsibility, a person's outside life does impact their performance at work. The goal is for that impact to be positive or neutral.
Managing employees who do sales can be like the telephone game if your communication isn't stellar- their communication will be muted or mixed up. It can also be awesome, when an employee or team picks up communication well and exceeds expectations.
The costume shop team at Halloween naming outfits like "inflatable Uber driver" and making punny outfits; or Jess in the Halloween shop keeping product clean, organized with working batteries- teaching patrons to use the try me buttons rather than breaking products to see if they work. She spent hours testing and labeling what worked and what was just for decor. The patron may not have a concept of how much time and effort we put into setting that one shop up, but we know, and I appreciate the hours we spent together working on silly Halloween animated toys.
It's a year of learning, applying knowledge and experience. A crash course exam at a masters degree level in real life running businesses. Inventory, sales techniques, and marketing are as critical in sales as they are in storytelling. What do you have? How do you communicate and who are your characters?
Story versus Sale.
Story is sale. Sale is story.
I used to teach drama and acting to kids as sales. A volunteer would try to sell the rest of the class anything. The class would vote on how convincing the seller was. Anything could be a prop. One boy sold the rock climbing wall. Being a character is selling a role. Being a manager is selling employees in roles, products, shops and venues. Having pirates run the pirate shop, a Zen guru sell tapestries, playful characters in costumes, and light saber lovers showing of their favorites in the Light Up Shop.
A year of lessons to apply to bring next year to a higher level.
Not Groundhog Day. Not Far Fetched Fiction. Life with strategy.

A Chance Of Sun

Fifty years ago, the world was different. Technology was not so advanced. We live in a temperature controlled world where the only exposure to weather might be the race to and from a vehicle, and for the few agonizing moments until the vehicle blasts us with our desired warming or cooling air.
We have water proof boots, waterproof coats, cloaks, pants and shirts. We have washers and dryers that can take a soaked item of clothing and dry it in less than an hour.
No longer are we pawns being shuffled around on a chessboard between weather and time. Somehow, we forget that. We do not prepare for weather or like small children with terrified eyes we race for shelter rather than embracing the power we have.
In this modern day, it is possible to prepare and enjoy events in an outdoor venue without getting sick, without risking our lives like we might have centuries ago. I marvel when I am walking in the lanes at a festival storytelling, when I feel a single drop of rain land like a gentle butterfly on my arm only to look up and see a large throng of people politely walk racing to their cars. One drop. I struggle against my imagination which considers that perhaps these rushing folk are made of spun sugar, perhaps they all have dental appointments they forgot and now they're racing there belatedly. Perhaps it is a secret race they plotted in the morning, like musical chairs with cars played in the parking lot?
Once the throng is gone my heart leaps with delight to see the wise and brave folk who stay to play and shop. Gradually, their numbers grow as they tell their stories of personal interactions, excellent customer service, sometimes even occasions where they have gotten private shows instead of fighting for elbow room in vast crowds.
When I see a picture of rain in the forecast with a chance of rain below fifty percent I still wonder why the picture is rain. Less than even odds it will happen, yet the picture is pessimistic and nudges people in the historical direction of staying inside to avoid catching a cold.

Haven't we learned to dress for the weather? Haven't we learned hand washing? Haven't we learned to eat healthy and take our vitamins?

Technology has changed, today there is a chance of Sun.

Several years ago I was storytelling on a rainy day at Minnesota Renaissance Festival. I told people all day, rainbows are magnetic. Paint rainbows on my dress and enough of them would create a strong pull. Strong enough to pull the sun out and stop the rain. Folks laughed, painted and enjoyed the stories I gave them. We did not really pay attention to the rain, everyone was dressed for it. Everyone had fun. Late in the day, a woman came back. She had a look of tragic shock on her face. A friend offered assistance, she declined. She caught my attention. She pointed at the sky. She pointed at the golden sun. "How? I mean, how could you? There's no way. I thought you were joking. I don't know how you did it." I gave her a smile.

Her world is now a different one. It is a world where the impossible can happen and sometimes does. In her world a woman genuinely calling for rainbows to be painted in the hundreds on her clothing can pull the sunlight through the clouds and nudge the rain away, at least for a while on a festival day. Perhaps more of us should believe in the chance of Sun, more of us should bravely prepare and explore the world on gray days.

Pessimism is easy, negativity is like gravity drawing water down a hillside. Optimism takes effort but should not. Curious that auto correct did not even realize it was a word, while pessimism popped right up.

I tell people every day in the streets, we often remember to say what is wrong. We rarely say the things we know are true, the things that are good. You are beautiful. The weather is perfect. Lines are short. Service was excellent. Sincerity is appreciated.

We shape the world with choices. We choose often from our mood. What mood do you carry with you? Do you carry a rainbow or a storm?

Today I carry a chance of Sun, come and add to my dress. The more rainbows there are, the more it will draw the sun. Rainbows cannot be without rain and Sun, we can work together to shift the world. We can be magnetic. 

A Study of Life as as Jigsaw Puzzle

Each weekend brings huge crowds, festive spirits and stories bubble out as I am inspired by those painting me at Bristol Renaissance Festival. It is a marvelous place, full of excitement, joy, and magic. It is an honor to be perform at such a wonderful show. If you have never been, it is excellent. It is about the same size historically as Bristol in England was back in the 1500s. It is mapped out like a real town, with streets and cross streets as well as several ponds on site. Talented musicians, skilled crafters, and gifted entertainers are everywhere you look; from wonderful braids to Birds of Prey- you can find the best at Bristol. One of my friends told me I was walking on clouds, wondering why I was so happy. I thought about it. Lively imaginations of patrons, playful hearts, and new friends to be made. Being in a place where I am appreciated and nurtured by festival and public makes a world of difference. I feel like I fill my paint bottles and slip into another world on the weekends.

Author, storytelling at a festival as "The Painted Lady" while children paint. 

On sunday night I shower off and step back into this one. Where to this week? This week I am visiting the Minneapolis area. When I arrived we immediately left to visit Minnehaha Falls and to have Red Snapper at a Mexican Restaurant on Lake St. Minnehaha Falls is a beautiful waterfall in a park in the middle of Minneapolis, with trails along the river and a restaurant serving fish and homemade ice cream. No one rushes around there, music always seems to fill the air from buskers outside the restaurant.

Minnehaha Falls after sunset. 

Looking down the trail at Danny Lord, it looks like we left Minnesota and stepped into a tropical paradise. 

Behind the Falls. 

Author at Minnehaha Falls, Minnesota

Yesterday found us napping on benches overlooking the city at Prospect park. Rumor has it that Dylan was inspired to write "All Along The Watchtower" there, but Dylan has never resolved the question by identifying his muse. Was it an inspiring place? Possibly, it was a comfortable spot to doze off in the sun.

The Witches Hat Water Tower that Might have Inspired Dylan

Heron painted near the door of the Water Tower.

Truly an inspiring view. 

Realizing we had hours until sunset, we decided to visit Fort Snelling as well. We were greeted by staff dressed as if they were back in the 1800s at the Fort. They shared history but were not historical characters. I enjoyed a music lesson on a gourd banjo and watching the black smith strike steel and flint, which is a little trickier than you'd think.

Dinner at A&Js was the best walleye in the Twin Cities, then we made our way to Lake Harriet for sunset. We listened to polkas and tangos played in the bandshell by talented local musicians as couples danced. We sat at the water's edge and watched ducks try to mooch snacks from onlookers who might give in to their cuteness. I was relieved to see that most respected the duck's normal diet and did not give treats to encourage unhealthy eating habits in wildlife. If you want to feed them, they do not naturally eat bread or sweets so please refrain from human food for wildlife. The sky went pink, reflecting on the water amidst the resting sailboats.

Sunset at Lake Harriet, Minnesota

Today brings clouds and the potential for rain, we'd had plans of going out in canoes and kayaks on Lake Calhoun. Instead we're looking at indoors options for fun. We've been doing a few mundane responsible chores in-between our adventures. Picking up medications, filling out forms, updating vehicle registration, and standing in lines.  Plotting the next few weeks in travel.

I have a list of places to go from Michigan to Ohio, St. Louis to Indianapolis. I have several places to go in Chicago. Time, cost, and travel expenses as well as scheduling need to be brought together in an effective way. I will be pulling maps and plotting routes, enjoying the adventure but missing the time with my loved ones while work carries me into the wind for another race through the states. I am looking forward to the chance of seeing and hugging friends whose voices I have not heard in months or years. I am looking forward to taking the time to stop and see some of the beautiful places, to inspire me to return for longer visits in the future. On occasions like this, I think how much I live like an old time Scout. Ahead of the group, taking care of myself and exploring to report back to everyone on the wonders and experiences I have found so that others might walk the best and brightest paths to appreciate them as well.

Safe travels to you, if you follow in my footsteps; give hugs to my friends. Share my greetings from afar and know that as I stood, walked, sat at these places I thought of the day that you might do the same in those very places where you find yourself.

Life is always a jigsaw puzzle, sometimes we think all the pieces are together only to have them spill to the floor. Sometimes pieces are lost, while new pieces from other puzzles may fit and make unpredictable changes to the whole. When I travel frequently I feel like I am holding random pieces in my hand. I think they fit, I find that reality changes their form as events unfold. In the end they may turn out to be a handful of dust or a handful of gold; a lot depends on chance. Good luck!

Quantum Highway Leap to Heaven

As a child I watched Michael Landon travel the country, working random jobs to enhance the lives of others in a rustic style. As I grew older I watched Quantum Leap, Scott Bakula shifted bodies like a woman deciding which dress to wear on a first date. Dean Stockwell gave him hints and direction, the two worked to help heal the people they touched. I'm not religious, I have morals and a drive to connect and heal. No labels, it's what I do and am its not out of fear of a fictitious hell or for approval. 

Here I am, almost forty traveling the country storytelling, cleaning, selling, listening, teaching, healing, sharing and doing my best to offer what I can to improve the lives of those I reach and meet. Some days I feel like a Brownie from the old stories, cleaning at night to make houses into beautiful homes. Other days I am cooking delicious Mexican food with Sylvia in the kitchen, two laughing women making tantalizing tamales. Yet other days I might be teaching archery, how to use apps, or giving direction. I might sneak a few minutes to type out inspiration or acknowledgment of a friend's life situation. Sometimes just being there is the best thing I can do, no judgement just an ear or sounding board.

I've been told if I settled in one place I could set foundations to be a recognized and respected storyteller. My feet tell me to keep moving, my spirit says there's more to do and see, my heart accepts the price of not being top of my field because I value those sudden magical moments where I get to witness the positive impact of love that I give. You can't put a price tag on it, it's worth wandering, it is more valuable than fickle fame or notoriety.

I'm living up to my childhood heroes, slipping into and out of places where and when there's need. I let the wind move me where I'm needed next, sometimes there's an idea or goal in mind while other times it's free flight and it can feel like freefall just like the times Scott shifted bodies in dramatic situations.

I don't always know what hat I'm going to wear next, I just hope that I fill the role well enough that the magic happens as it chooses.

Some days I squint in the hot sun wondering if you can have deja vu from a fictional character's experience, feeling like Michael Landon wondering about the latest story unfolding around me while other days I look in the mirror and wonder about the person there, that my happiness is woven tightly to the peace and care I have the chance to do and give. Handing a stranger nutritious food or a new coat, entertaining a family who doesn't have a dime to give a tip with but has appreciation in waves larger and more beautiful than the oceans.

Who inspired you? When I come wandering through, will you know what I'm up to?

Unpredictability Lends A Hand in Great Storytelling

The anticipation rises as the storyteller describes the scene so well that it appears in your mind fresh with vibrant colors and sounds.

Suddenly, what you expected topples into the sea. You go from visualizing a castle of stone on a cliff above the sea to a card house exploding in a flurry of rustling motion. You become more attentive.

Two friends climbed a mountain forty years ago. They stood at the Rocky peak of Mount Audubon as the sun rose. They watched their shadows stretch across miles, reaching distant mountain tops faster than thought. They decided that when they had children they needed to come back and climb it again.

Time has a twisted sense of humor. Forty years is a short span of time to a tree, a mountain, a stream while it is half of a lifetime for us.

Two old men with the spirit of youth looked at each other and decided to heed wisdom. They went to the mountain to see what current conditions were. It was a festive scouting mission. Snow was piled taller than we were on either side of the road. The road was not open yet to cars even though it was almost June and it normally opens May first. We walked two miles to the campground. Snow drifts over ten feet tall were lazily claiming every campsite. Walking to the restrooms was a Herculean effort. I kept wondering how hard it would be to climb out if I fell into the snow. The two friends decided to see what weather would do, three weeks before the momentous hike was scheduled. Plane flights, coordination of housing, food, and many little details kept stress high.

If this was stressful it was a good thing we weren't in the Donner party. As a side note, auto correct tries to make Donner dinner.

Weeks passed. Snow stayed. Health conditions got a serious look. After forty years, stamina took a break. Bad knees in one and a tricky heart with breathing problems became a factor for the other. 

Although in dreams we climbed Audubon, in reality we camped at Red Feather Lakes. It was beautiful. We collected morels, found geocaches, lost a walkie talkie looking for a volcanic lake. We saw elk, moose, and I held a hummingbird in my hand that had gotten trapped in the cabin. I felt its heartbeat racing its breath. I set it free with a friend. We rode horses, did archery, went fishing, paddleboating, and had campfires with fanciful tales and l.e.d. poi.

It might not have been the vision the two youths had as they watched their shadows take on the proportions of Gods but it was  exciting and worth every minute.

In the end, we got our mountain fix by driving into Rocky Mountain National Park. We drove Trail Ridge Road and did short hikes. We had a snowball fight, watched marmots, moose, elk, and various rodents go about their daily life.  Our shadows might not have stretched across the sky but our spirits soared above the wispy clouds.

The best stories never go the way you think they will, and when you tell the story it changes with what you bring into focus. Someone else might have focused differently, their story could be of turmoil, soul searching, self worth, interpersonal bliss or conflict while you were laughing at the times the kids and I konked ourselves in the head with the poi or when I bounced off a tree and fell into a waist deep stream.

It depends on where you want to take the dreamer you are giving the story to. Give them the unexpected, the moment that made the day sublime.

Storytelling and the social media age

Searching for gigs is like panning for gold on the putting green of a golf course. The internet is an ocean with possibilities, so vast that it makes the search harder.

You want an easier search, you pay a provider to include you. Does it mean your work is quality? Hemming and hawing could be done, but it comes down to money rather than skill. Money for professional photos and editted video, money to add listings by area of the country and even more if you want or need a national listing. You want to be included with enough detail to interest prospective clients, pull out those dollars as it has nothing to do with talent, appeal or skill. Professionalism already shook its proverbial head and quietly left.

Being found or being considered when you send out lines is even harder; so many fish in the sea and so many vivid, amazing, incredible pr fliers, cards, emails, and ads for so many folks that may or may not be what their flashy ads suggest.

I marvel at the momentous effort required, the frustration of finding knock off princess pseudo-cosplay characters getting gigs as if they were entertainers rather than cheap imitations that people are content to trick themselves into paying for. Hire real entertainment, people who have worked for years considering their performance as important. Performance versus appearance, performance versus an ad campaign.

I cringe at calling myself a storyteller, as everyone tells stories. The word brings to mind someone tedious and long winded rehashing tired stories someone else wrote. Wrong. Entirely wrong. I know amazing storytellers who deserve recognition for their skill. Brother Donald, Joshua Safford and Terry Foy, all gifted, practiced and incredible.
Have we reached a point in civilization where instead of veneration, storytelling is seen as a lesser valued trade? Storytellers used to be the pinnacle of entertainment, I see quotes from famous actors calling out that the world needs us. Needs us? As we race into our metaphorical phone booths to switch into our superhuman storytelling costumes, will we really be perceived and valued for our trade or will it be seen as lesser than other forms of entertainment? It would be like Superman waking up to a world where a thousand someones eating fire bumped him out of respected recognition.

Why should storytelling be valued?
We learn from stories. We gain perspective. We are distracted, we laugh and cry. We release what we've carried and we are reminded of the human connection. A good storyteller sets themselves aside and offers the audience the stories they want and need. It is about the audience. Every politician, lawyer and successful con artist has to be an excellent storyteller although none of those folks want it on their resume.

Allow amazing storytellers to inspire you. Inspire them, appreciate the profound chance and take each beautiful opportunity you are given to savor the way their words inspire you. Appreciate how hard, in a sea of social media, it was for chance to bring you to a place where you could have the opportunity to listen.

How often do we listen anymore? Is that timer running in your head even now, telling you to rush back to a candy colored game or gossip or shopping? Slow down! If you are so discontent that you have to constantly shift your attention, why? Stop avoiding what needs changing or addressing. Settle down for a story, take what you need, make changes to reduce that weird agitation that seems to be affecting everyone lately.

Let a storyteller help you change the world.

Stop buying things you do not need. Stop justifying them. Focus on your health and the health of your relationships. Stop blaming. Take responsibility. Set goals. Relearn self control and impulse control. Be the Captain of your ship rather than a hapless stow away jostled by the waves of social mores and norms, legislation, and advertisements. Turn off your data. Turn off your phone. Go outside. Talk with real people. Live your real life, and if you do not like it- set goals and change it. Possessions and pretending do not make the world a better place. A starving child is not saved with a doll and a princess dress, but with nourishment.

I was asked what my ideal community would be like and to give it serious thought

Start caring for each other, instead of attacking each regardless of the size of the difference. Compromise. If you choose not to get along because of severe conflict you have the right to choose not to interact or have dealings but must accept that mutual connections may still interact. Resposibile living, growing animals and crops, self sustainability: learning and teaching the basics. Choosing to stop and not include disposable, wasteful options like bottled water and plastic toys. Solar, wind power, and human power.

We as a people lost our voice after the sixties. We choose to believe we are stuck. We are not. I hear and read people saying change starts within. Be free in your head and you will be free. It's misleading. It starts there. It shifts to responsible, informed decision making regarding your immediate environment and choices. It expands into changing and reforming the laws and government. Do not accept corruption. Choose to take the power from those who misuse it. Learn to be adults again and without an immature rant, accept that other people are different and have different views and beliefs. Respect them as you want your own respected, and do not assume they are flawed or wrong any more than you would want your questioned.

Storytelling. Learn why it has been held in high esteem throughout history. Read or listen to a storyteller. It could easily be the most dangerous thing you do. Remember, Charles Manson and Leonard Peltier are both still in jail not because of what they did but because of the stories and the influence the would have on others if freed. The power of words in a master's hands goes beyond that of a gun.

Have an excellent birthday Tawasi. May the world change, May people make the individual choices to shift the sands out from under the unstable, unhealthy structt we have now. May each person be strong enough to listen to their spirit and step back out into impacting the world for positive change.

As a storyteller, I encourage you to remember that you are the protagonist in your story. You, not a cartoon character, but you. You are incredible, you hide behind apps and you bear the burden of feeling trapped and attacked by judgemental peers in a social climate engineered to divide you and rewarding you for judging, rewarding you for impotence and acceptance. Find your personal strengths and start changing your worlds. Become immune to advertisers and labels. Accept that life is hard, dangerous and fleeting. Appreciate it.

Breakfast with a Panhandler

I've taken to getting up early, walking or biking. Mostly getting out and enjoying the weather and the flowering cactus. The whole desert is yellow with splashes of pink and orange. Beautiful.

Friday I stopped at a gas station to drink coffee and watch the world go by. A large man politely asked to join me at the table outside. I nodded. He scowled at a police car watching for traffic violations. He put the beer he bought under a blanket in a saddlebag on his bicycle. His bike had a motor. He sat down and explained that some folks choose coffee in the morning while he chose beer. Just two a day, slowly consumed. I nodded and said it was his choice. I was thinking about two.

You see, I worked in substance abuse treatment. Two was the magic number that meant way more than two. Two never means two. I waited.

He took his pocket knife and worked on a scratch off lottery ticket. It was a complicated one, so we talked while he gradually revealed more of the card.

He said he was a pan handler. I told him I was a storyteller. He smiled, said that we both have to watch what we say. I agreed. He suddenly said that he drank two in the morning, two midday, two in the afternoon, and two in the evening. Two, as I said, is a magical number. It is the only number that can really be eight, sixteen or even thirty if mentioned in reference to beverages or food. Remember those "two" cookies the dieter claims is all they ate?

No one ever uses three or four to fudge numbers, it's always two.

I smiled. He finished his scratch off, it was a loss. Win some, lose some he said with detachment. He was scruffy but clean, cautious not to appear sloppy. He had a tattered flag and the other accents that reinforce the perception one has that says "give me," just as a fast food worker and a secretary have their own uniforms.

I had one cup of coffee, or was it two?

Everyone has a thousand stories.

Everyone has a thousand stories. Each day of our lives add more stories to the vast universe of who and what we are. Our lives are stories. They are not Youtube videos, lasting less than three minutes with advertisements. They are not pop songs crooned by someone just figuring out that they are alive and that they can do more than write their names in the snow with their genitalia. Some lives are happy, some are sad, some are full of challenge, while others seem to fly by without apparent effort as if those people were launched at birth into a different stratosphere of possibility.

Angela R. Hunt, author hiking the Flat Irons.

I have hiked the Flat Irons trail three different times in two years. Each time there has been a story or two or three. Some stories are better than others, calling the listener or reader to attend to the challenges and the emotional charge. Suspense, humor, ridiculous risks, these are all parts of a good story.

Lately, as I search for venues to storytell at I am surprised by how many venues do not regard storytelling as entertainment. How many times I have been told "You are just a kid's activity" as if I were a game of Monopoly or a sit and spin toy. Something to disregard with the relief that I am capable of entertaining all ages including the very young, something apparently perceived as less valuable than music, circus tricks, and even animals. As I deal with being told that there is no financial value to telling stories I know that it is not the case. I wish there was a better definition for a professional who not only tells stories but is capable of writing and creating them. I weave your  requests into a story, or I take a concept and I follow the thought trails to see where it leads. I give you the story. I have told thousands of stories, starting as a child getting in trouble. Everyone was a child. We all got into trouble.

I learned to talk my way into and out of trouble, it was a tricky conversation that started like a stream, clear and obvious. Seemingly shallow and shockingly cold.

It usually went something like this...

"Why do you have to carry buckets of water to your dog?" The blonde, ten year old girl asked of the shorter sandy haired girl.

See it started there, and the sandy haired child about to speak- is me. It started there. I didn't say a word yet. Here it comes.

"Don't you have to water your dog?" Pause while the taller girl shakes her head that she does not.
"Well, did you notice that dogs do not have hands?" There is a nod after the taller girl squints at the dog the two girls are walking toward with a full five gallon bucket of water. The water is sloshing out occasionally, getting the girls feet wet; but there will be plenty left for the dog.

"So how will the dog drink the water?" The taller girl asks. The shorter girl stops. Looks at the taller girl.  Blinks a few times as the forces of good and evil within her war in a tired way that demonstrates trouble wins most frequently.

"We use this." The shorter girl looks very serious as she pulls out a squirt gun. "We have to actually put the water in the dog's mouth. They can't pick up a dish with paws." The taller girl looks at the gun, looks at the dog and nods.

"I wondered how they drank. Can I do it? I should learn." The squirt gun is handed to the taller girl. There is a babbling brook of information flooding out of the shorter girl on shooting technique, frequency. There is a flood across the taller girls ears that gives enough confidence that she goes forward with the gun. She squirts the collie who wants nothing more than to lap up the cool water directly in the mouth.

It gets worse. The dog growls slighly.

The taller girl says "What does that sound mean?"
The shorter girl looks very serious, certain the next whopper will be discounted.

"Dogs can't talk, it was asking for more."

Several minutes later, grounded again I sat down. I could not believe what could be believed.

I didn't have to  make this story up. I could have, but it really did happen.

Everyone is a storyteller. Everyone has stories. We live stories, we remember in stories, we dream in stories. We should value those stories. We should do our best to fill our lives with stories we like.

Terry Pratchett died. My favorite wordsmith will put no more words to page. His stories are profound and amazing. Perhaps there would be less war if people put down the books they fight for and picked up more Pratchett.

When you think of people and things that have changed your life profoundly, what comes to mind?

A story.

If I wish for nothing else, it is that you choose to realize that you write your story. You dream your dream. Why limit it? Why hide behind buts, excuses and somedays. If you wait until you retire to live, will you be alive to live? How many lives are lost before someone chooses to unfold and become themselves?

Do you need so much security that you forsake your life for money and safety? We grow when we face uncertainty and challenge? Are you happy? Are you challenging yourself? Are you surviving and growing?

Each day I wake up, I look around and assess what I can do to pay my bills, buy my food; and help others as I go. We are what we have to give. I live without guarantees or a safety net, but I live with friends and I enhance their lives as they enhance mine.

We share stories. We give each other memories and laughter. We are the reassurance we give each other that we ARE valuable and worthy and loved.

In the end, it is what we have.

Everyone has a thousand stories. Everyone is a thousand tales. Every one with merit and with beautiful highlights. Every one with bits we wish we could edit out or change parts of if only we had paid attention to foreshadowing.

Value stories. Value your lives. I do.