Well, the madness is almost over, and after 2 and a half years, maybe I can stop obsessing about this particular project, and start thinking about other things, like I used to do.
One project that's been on the backburner for awhile is a print/audio hybrid version of The Lion and the Donkey.
Another is writing something substantial & coherent about folk storytelling-- where it started for me and for us all, what it is, what's going on in the field, why people in our culture haven't told "fairytale" folktales to each other (the way we tell jokes, for instance) for a long time, why a whole lot of very good professional storytellers stopped telling those kinds of stories from the stage, what a shame that is, and what (if any) hope there may be for things getting better.
I tried getting started on that for the "something about storytelling" section of this issue of the newsletter. But I don't have the creative energy, or discipline, or time, or some such needed ingredient to get both "substantial" and "coherent" together simutaneously, not if this is going to be on time to let you know where we're performing.
But you deserve content! Every episode of this newsletter should have something intrinsically interesting! Something beyond "here's what we're up to," that's the rule.
So, I've begun writing out one of my most requested solo folktales for you, it's at the end of this email. It closely follows the Norwegian oral classic, but has surely evolved over the decades of living in my mind and my mouth.
But first, let's take care of business.
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Seven Days Review "Tim Jennings and Leanne Ponder are simply Vermont treasures, and listening to their stories never grows old."
About the stories Vampire Princess "Liner Notes"
one of the reasons for maintaining this series of email newsletters Farmer Weatherbeard |
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(part one)
There was an old man, and an old woman, and their son. They were poor tenant farmers, what they used to call peasants. Nowadays they're called poor tenant farmers, and it's not the lord that owns the land it's the bank. But back then they were called peasants.
One day the old woman turned to the old man and said, "Old man!" she said. "You take our boy out and you apprentice him to someone. I don't want him to be a farmer when he grows up, there's no future in it. You apprentice him to some trade."
"All right," says the old man. "Who do you want me to apprentice him to?"
"Oh, that don't matter," she says.
"You're making it easy, for once," he says.
"Just remember one thing," she says.
"I was afraid of that," he says.
"When he's done with his apprenticeship, he's not just to be a master of his trade. No, no. He's to be a master of all masters."
"A master of all masters!?" says the old man. "Well, I'll do what I can, but..."
"You better do better than that," she says. "You take our boy out, and don't come back until you done what I told you to do!" And she packed them a lunch, and a change of clothes, and a roll of tobacco, and she kicked them out the door.
Well the two of them went all over the place, asking everybody, and everybody said the same thing, which was: "Yes, I could use an apprentice. And your boy looks like he'd be a good one. But I'd better tell you right now, I can only make him as good as I am, and I am no master of all masters!"
So the two of them were sitting by the side of the road-- they knew better than to go home-- when down the road, they heard a rumble of wheels, and a thunder of hoofs, and coming towards them they saw a cloud of dust, and in the middle of the cloud there was a big black wagon, drawn by nine big black horses, and standing up in the driver's seat was a tall, powerfully built, sinister looking man with a hood, and a cloak, and a patch over one eye. And he was cracking the whip! Cracking the whip! He saw them by the side of the road, he pulled the reins.
"Whoa! What's the matter with you down there?"
"Oh, the old woman says I have to apprentice the boy here to be a master of all masters, I can't find anybody to do it."
"That's all right," says the stranger. "I'll do it!"
And he reached down, picked the boy up by one arm, swung him, legs kicking, as if he weighed nothing at all, dropped him in the seat next to him, cracked the whip, and the horses took off--- straight up into the air.
"Wait!" says the old man.
"Whoa!" says the stranger, and horses and wagon stopped below the sky. He called down, "what do you want this time?"
"Who are you, anyway?"
"I'm Farmer Weatherbeard!" and he cracked the whip, and the horses took off up into the sky, and were gone.
Well, the man sat there for awhile, scratching his head, wondering what to do next, then he finally said, "Well," he said, "I guess I did what I was supposed to do. I guess I can go home."
Went home, knocked at the door.
"Well?" she said.
"Well, I did what you said."
"Did you? He's apprenticed?"
"Yes."
"He's going to be a master of all masters?"
"Yes."
"Well all right! Come on in. Who'd you apprentice him to?"
"Farmer Weatherbeard."
"Farmer Weatherbeard? Farmer Weatherbeard??? What. Does. He. Do?"
"Well.... I don't know."
"You don't know? Where does he live?"
"I don't know that either."
"You don't?? Who is he????"
"I don't know that either!"
"Get out!" she says. "Get out! And don't come back until you found out what you done with our boy!"
And she packed him a change of clothes, and she packed him a lunch, and a roll of tobacco, and she kicked him out the door.
Man walked all over the place asking everybody---
"Excuse me, do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?"
"No I don't."
"Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?"
"Never heard of him."
"Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?"
"Weatherbee? Weatherboard? can't say that I do."
Until finally
"Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?"
"Farmer Weatherbeard?? You're kinda old to still believe in Farmer Weatherbeard, aintcha?"
So he knew he was on the right track. And he kept going that way, which was North, until he found himself wandering for months through a vast trackless pine forest. Hadn't seen anybody for days. It was starting to get dark, and he saw a light, between the trees. And he followed the light, until he came out into a little clearing. And in the clearing there was a little house, and a well, and an old woman with a lonnnnnnnnggggg noooossssseeee. It was so long, she was drawing the water out of the well with her nose.
"Afternoon, Granny!"
"Granny! Nobody's called me Granny for three hundred years!"
"Three hundred years! You must know a lot. Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?"
"No, I don't."
"Oh," says the man, and he suddenly felt very tired. "Listen, I'm not as old as you are, but I'm too old to sleep in the forest again, can I spend the night on the floor of your cabin?"
"Spend the night on the floor of my cabin? Why, certainly---- NOT!!! I don't know you from Adam young man! The nerve of some people? What next, what next?" and she started in toward the door of her cabin.
"Well," says the old man, I don't know what I'm going to do!" And while he was thinking what to do next, he took out his pipe, and he filled it with tobacco, and lit it, and blew out some smoke, and that old woman caught one sniff of the tobacco smoke and her nostrils flapped WHOOM WHOOM. And her hair stood on end. And her whole body quivered. And a little bit of drool came out of the corner of her mouth.
The old man figured she probably wanted some of the tobacco, and in those days ladies took tobacco as snuff, so he took out his knife and minced up a bit of tobacco and handed it out to her on the flat of his knife. And she snatched it, and pushed it up her nose as far as it would go, and started laughing and dancing, and singing, and jumping for joy. She was so pleased, she let him spend the night. And the next day she took him out to a field.
"Listen, sonny," she said. "I have power over everything that lives on the land. And if your Farmer Weatherbeard lives on the land, we'll soon find out where." And she took out a set of bagpipes, and blew them up and started playing-- one of those weird old archaic Norwegian airs that you have to have lived for 300 years to make head or tail of. But she liked it! And as she was playing, the grass shifted and sifted, and shifted and sifted, and all the animals who live on the land came out and started dancing around her. And one by one each animal would come up to her, and one by one she'd ask them: "Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?" And one by one, they'd say "No." Every one of them said, "No."
So she put down her pipes and told the old man, "Now, don't despair. We know something now we didn't know before. We know he don't live on the land. You should go see my sister. She lives so far away from here, you'd never get there on foot. But just take my horse, you'll be there by dark."
And she picked him up, and put him on her horse, and gave it a slap, and they rode like the wind. And when the landscape stopped being a blur, he was in a little clearing with a house and a well and an old woman with a long nose, she was drawing the water out of the well with her nose.
"Evening granny," he says.
"Granny??? Nobody's called me Granny for the last nine hundred years!"
"Nine hundred years?" he says. "You must know a lot. Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?"
"No I don't."
"Well, can I spend the night?"
"No you can't."
"I don't know what I'm going to do." This was stretching the truth, he had a pretty good idea of what he was going to do, and he went ahead and did it. Filled his pipe with tobacco, lit it, blew out the smoke, her nostrils went woomp woomp, hair stood on end, trembled all over, little bit of drool, he minced up the tobacco and she pushed it up her nose as far as it would go and started laughing and choking and sneezing and spitting and dancing for joy, she was so pleased she let him spend the night, and the next day, she took him to a fjord.
(This is a Norwegian story, they have these things called fjiords, steep canyons that used to be riverbeds, but now the ocean comes up them.)
She says, "Listen sonny, I have power over everything that lives in the water. And if your Farmer Weatherbeard lives in the water, we'll soon find out where!" And she started playing her bagpipes, and everything that lives in the water came up to the surface and started swimming around on their tails. And she asked each one of them, "Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives," and each one said, "No." Everyone of them said "No."
She told the old man, "Now, don't despair. We know he don't live on the land, we know he don't live in the water. You'd best go see my sister. She lives so far from here, you'd never get there on foot, but take my horse and you'll be there by dark."
She picked him up and put him on her horse, gave it a slap and they rode like the wind. And when the landscape stopped being a blur, they were in a little clearing with a house and a well and an old woman with a long nose, she was drawing the water out of the well with her nose.
"Hello Granny."
"Granny!!!! Nobody's called me Granny for the last eighty-one hundred years!!"
"Do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?" "No." "Can I spend the night?" "No" "I don't know what I'm going to do."
This was a lie. He knew exactly what he was going to do, and so do you, he took out his tobacco, filled the pipe, lit it, blew out the smoke, her nostrils flared whoooom-whooom, hair on end, quivered all over, little bit of drool, gave her the snuff, pushed it up her nose as far as it would go and was sneezing and laughing and spitting and snorting and dancing for joy, she was so pleased she let him spend the night. And the next day, she took him out to a cliff.
"Listen, Sonny, I have power over everthing that lives in the air. And if your Farmer Weatherbeard lives in the air, we'll soon find out where." She started playing her bagpipes, and the air was dark with birds dropping down from the sky.
(cooing) "Helloooooooooo. Hellooooooooooo."
"Hello, do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?
(cooing) "Nooooooooo. Noooooooooo."
(cawing) "Hi! Hi!"
"Hello, do you know where Farmer Weatherbeard lives?"
(cawing) "Naw! Naw!"
Asked every one of those birds, and every one of them said, no.
She told the old man, "Now don't despair!" (And I generally say to my listeners too: don't despair.) "There's one bird ain't got here yet, and that's the one that's most likely to know. We'll wait, it'll get here."
And they waited, and they waited, and sure enough, just before dark, here came the eagle. But it wasn't flying like an eagle, it was flying more like a slowed-down woodpecker, flap its wings and sink. Flap its wings and sink. Finally they could see why: it was so tired, it could hardly fly at all, its tongue was hanging out of the corner of its beak, finally for the last few feet it just folded its wings and dropped --- whoomp!
"(Pant pant pant) I'm sorry (pant pant pant) I'm so late but (pant pant pant) I was all the way up at Farmer Weatherbeard's when I heard your call, and it's taken me this long to get back."
(continued next issue)
