>> From the Library of Congress in Washington DC. >> Thea Austen: Good evening. Hi, everybody. Hi. Thank you for coming. Thank you so much. I'm Thea Austen. I'm the public events coordinator for the American Folk Life Center. And on behalf of all of our staff, we really want to thank you for coming tonight for a very special evening. This is part of the Homegrown series which was created to showcase the best of traditional music, dance and narrative arts from around the country, and sometimes from beyond the country. We usually work with state folklorists and with partners like the Millennium Stage at the Kennedy Center and hold these in college auditoriums. But this time we're changing up. We came into a more intimate space for a very special performance. You can find more information about the Folk Life Center outside on the tables where you'll also see DVDs and CDs and things like that by our two performers. So I want to make sure you take a look at that later after the show. Just a little bit of housekeeping in that we have to make sure that everybody's out of the building by 9:30 because the magical electric magnetic door locks spring into action and the cops don't even have control of them. So we need to make sure everybody gets out by then. Also we love mobile phones. We really do. The Veterans History Project which is part of the Folk Life Center even has an app to help you do oral histories with your family and then submit them for our collections. But we don't want your phones ringing right now. So if you haven't turned them off, please turn off your phones. So why are you all here? Well, in the 1970s, cousins Connie Regan Blake and Barbara Freeman were both working at the Chattanooga Public Library, Barbara as a children's librarian and Connie as a full-time storyteller for a special outreach program called More. And I think she was called Miss Daisy and had a blue dress with daisies all over it. In 1973, they attended the first National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, Tennessee. That's where they met Ray and Rosa Hicks of Beach Mountain, North Carolina who became lasting friends and mentors. They realized they had a special gift for telling stories and they left their jobs, left their careers at the library to perform nationally and internationally as folk tellers. Connie and Barbara pioneered tandem telling which is a type of duet storytelling performance. And they were on the founding board of directors for NAPPS, the National Association for the Preservation and Perpetuation of Storytelling which is now called the National Storytelling Network. In 1985, the folk tellers moved to Asheville, North Carolina and began working on a play entitled Mountain Sweet Talk. This two-act, fully staged play starred Connie and Barbara, incorporating original materials and stories from the folk tellers. The show ran for seven seasons, 1986-1992 with over 300 performances. And I think it's the longest-running play, right, in Asheville. The folk tellers also toured across the country, performing at folk festivals including the Smithsonian Festival here in Washington. Connie and Barbara eventually moved on to solo careers and both are internationally-recognized storytellers. Connie Regen-Blake's collection of recordings, photographs, correspondence and memorabilia with documents both her storytelling career and the larger storytelling scene from the 1970's to the present day is part of the archive of the American Folk Life Center. So in this special evening program, the two cousins and performing partners step back in time to perform together once again. Please welcome Connie Regen-Blake and Barbara Freeman. [ Applause ] >> Thank you. >> Thank you so much. For an encore we will -- >> We are very excited to be here and doing this and we're so glad each one of you all came tonight. It would be a very different experience if you had not. We still would have been telling, but we're glad to have you here, delighted for it. And we're going to start with one of our favorites, and it's called No News or What Killed the Dog. On Edison Records -- >> It was gifted to us by Marshall Dodge. >> A certain southern lady was returning home after recuperating in the mountains for three months. My friend -- >> Georgianna. >> Met me at the railroad station platform. Georgianna, has there been any news while I've been away? >> No. No news. >> No news? Surely something must have happened in my absence. I've been gone for most nearly three months and I am anxious for any little bit of news you may have. >> Well, since you mentioned it, of course it don't amount to much, but since you've been away, your dog died. >> My dog died? >> Yeah, he went over and ate some of the burnt horse flesh and that's what killed the dog. >> Burnt horse flesh? >> See, after the fire cooled off, the dog went over and ate some of the burnt horse flesh and that's what killed the dog. >> After the fire cooled off? >> See, the barn burned down, burned up all the cows and horses. The fire cooled off, the dog went over and ate some of the burnt horse flesh and that's what killed your dog. >> My barn burned down? How did my barn burn down? >> Oh, it was a spark from the house. See, it flew over, landed on the roof of the barn, burned down the barn, burned up all the cows and horses. The fire cooled off, the dog went over and ate some of the burnt horse flesh. That's what killed the dog. >> A spark from the house? >> Oh yes, now that's completely burned down. >> Well how did my house burn down? >> It was those candles. They just kind of caught on the curtains, shot up the side of the wall, burned down the house. A spark fell on the roof of the barn -- >> Candles? Georgianna, I don't have any candles in the house. I don't even allow candles in the house. How did candles get in the house? >> Oh, they was around the coffin. [ Laughter ] >> The coffin? Who died? >> Oh, now, you needn't worry about that. Since you've been away, your mother-in-law died. >> Oh. My mother-in-law, what a pity. [ Laughter ] How did she die? >> Well some folks say it was from the shock of hearing that your husband ran off with the choir leader. [ Laughter ] But other than that, there ain't been no news. >> May all your news be good news. >> Thank you. [ Applause ] >> This thing is starting up my nose. Should I pull it back down? >> I think so, or get Everett if we need to. >> That's good. >> Is that okay? >> Let me try here. >> Is it hiding my dimple? It's the only good feature I have. >> Okay, are we still okay on sound, everybody? Still good. And I know some of you folks in here go back a long way with the folk tellers, right back to the very beginnings of the folk tellers in 1975. So it's really fun to be breathing this air into these stories. And this next one is a traditional story. We always loved to think about Ray Hicks, his wife Rosa, bring them on stage with us. And kind of in that way they influenced so much of what we do. And we have such gratitude to them. But this is one of the grandfather tales that we took and made a little folk tellerese within it. And it is like this. >> Once upon a time -- >> Back when turkeys chewed tobacco -- >> And clog dancers had wooden feet -- >> There were two women. >> Regina May. >> And Willa Mena. >> Now these two women were the best of friends. >> But they lived in a community where folks were always at one another. >> Whenever anyone got together, they'd start into arguing back and forth and back and forth. Arguing about who could stitch the prettiest quilt. >> Or who could spit the furthest or who could check out the most library books in an hour. >> You know, that sort of thing. >> Well, one day the two women got to talking about their husbands. >> And how foolish they could act. >> And they got to talking about what was the craziest, most foolish thing they'd ever done. Now they were both experts on this particular subject. They had plenty to draw upon. And they started making out a list. And they started comparing notes. Then their tempers started to flare. >> Their voices got louder and louder and they got into an argument. >> And they commenced to stare one another down and going back and forth and forth and back. >> And forth and back. >> Until finally it came about that the only way to settle this -- >> Was to make a bet. >> A bet as to which one's husband would prove himself to be the biggest fool. And they gave each other a week to do it in. >> Now Willa Mena knew she would have no trouble with a bet like that because she was married to the world's very best hypochondriac. He was always sick, getting sicker. If somebody came in and said they had a headache, within a few seconds you would hear Willa Mena's husband say, "I think I've got a headache, and a [coughing] cold too." So out of sheer love for him, whenever Willa Mena had any free time at all, she would go and pull books off their shelf and she would flip through them to see if any book bothered to mention a disease or a symptom. And if she found something in print, I'm sorry to say she's just rip out the page, because she knew if her old man got ahold of a book that talked about a disease, he would come down with it. And she would have to deal with it. So she thought she would just use that little tidbit for the bet. So when he came walking through the front door, Willa Mena started in with a question. "Honey, do you feel all right?" He said he thought he felt fine, but he was open for suggestions. [ Laughter ] She said, "Just come over here, honey. Slowly, slowly, slowly, sit yourself down. You're looking like puny. I'm going to fix you up as best I can." She ran out to her little herb garden and she ripped herself up some angelica and some spignent to thicken and thin his blood in due course. And then she threw in some ginseng just to confuse the other two. She kind of force-fed him throughout the day and he had a big old smile all over his face because he was feeling pretty good, getting all that attention from Willa Mena. Well, the next morning, bright and early, before he was awake, she took him by the shoulders and she shook him. "Honey Bunch, stick out your tongue. I hope you're not going to put that tongue back into your mouth. From the looks of it, you've done come down with something. But I'm going to keep you alive the best I can." And by that evening, that smile had flattened out and turned completely upside down into one serious frown. >> Meanwhile, back at Regina May's, she had a different tactic for winning that bet. When her husband come walking through the cabin door, she's sitting behind her loom, throwing that shuttle back and forth, clicking and clacking and clicking and clacking. And it without a single piece of threat on it. Her husband, he came over and he looked and watched and looked and finally he said, "Regina May, what is it that you're doing?" She said, "Why, I'm weaving." And before he could say another word or ask another question, she came back with an, "Oh, this is some of the finest thread I have ever worked with. Folks told me it comes from virgin sheep. And any husband lying to his wife can't even see it at all." [ Laughter ] He peered down just a little bit closer, took off his spectacles, cleaned them and said, "You know, I believe that may be some of the finest thread I've ever laid eyes on." And she just smiled real big and for the next two or three days, whenever her husband come walking through the cabin door, there she sat, behind that loom, throwing that empty shuttle back and forth in midair. >> Meanwhile, back at Willa Mena's, she had done a wonderful job of convincing her old man that he was a near goner. She scooted up a little chair alongside of his bed and looked at him real pitiful-like and she said, "Honey, I'm sure going to miss you when you're gone." [Sobbing] She cried on. "And I just hate to tell you this, but I've done gone and had your coffin made. And while you've got just enough strength left in you, you sure could help me out a powerful lot if you would just help me get you on into it." [ Laughter ] She drug that coffin box over near the bed, parallel to the bed. And she said, "It just pains me to ask you to move yourself from your snug little deathbed over into your coffin." "Yeah, Willa Mena, that's plumb awful. But I'm thinking there's something worse than that. When a friend dies, you lose a friend, but when you die, I think you lose all your friends." [Sobbing] And she used that opportunity to get him on a roll and she got him right down into that coffin box. She thought it was a good sign too, because he landed face-up. She reached over and petted him on the forehead and by the time he closed those beady little hypochondriac eyes, I'll be if he didn't look downright grave. >> Meanwhile, back at Regina May's, she figured she'd spent enough time behind that loom. So the next time her husband came walking through the cabin door, she said, "Honey, would you help me move this here bolt of cloth over to that table." She said, "Watch out, don't let it drag the floor." And he just raised his arms up higher. She got over the table and was acting like she was spreading out a piece of material, got her a pair of scissors and she went to cutting. Now he watched and looked and watched and finally he said, "Regina May, what is it that you're making?" She said, "Well, I'm making you the finest suit of clothes you'll ever put on." And she kept cutting. Then she got her a needle and some of that special thread and she went over and sat down and went to stitching, sewing in and out, in and out, stitching up nothing but thin air. Her husband watched for a little while and then he went on to bed, and she sat up half the night. Next morning, first thing she said, "Honey, it's ready for you to try on." He came into the parlor and she held up like this and he figured, "That must be the pants." He took one leg and then the other. She said, "Raise your arms up." And he just knew that was the shirt. She went right over the top. She help up one more time and he thought, "That must be the jacket." So he kind of backed right into it and she said, "Now would you look at that? Turn around there." He turned around twice and she said, "Now, you know, I think it's a perfect fit." And he was standing there in nothing but a pair of boots. [ Laughter ] >> That same crystal clear morning, Willa Mena leaned over the coffin box and said, "Oh, me. He's done died during the night." And her old man figured she must be right. [ Laughter ] So Willa Mena got real busy and she spread word throughout the entire community. She wanted everybody to gather down at the cemetery for what could turn out to be a pretty good revival of sorts. And she got a neighbor friends to help her load up that old heavy wooden coffin box full of her husband onto the wagon. And she hitched up the team of horses and she started on off down the road. And she got to the burying grounds and folks were clustered and gathered all about. And who should be coming down the sawmill road but Regina May and her old man, and him in his new suit of clothes. He's walking along telling folks howdy, shaking hands with every other one, telling them all about this fine new suit of clothes his wife made him and all about that special quality of those virgin sheep. Folks didn't quite know what to do. I mean, this was their neighbor. They'd known him all his life, but they'd honestly never seen him in this light before. [ Laughter ] Mostly they were just staring. Then a few of the children started giggling just a little bit. >> And then old Preacher Dry Fry just started howling and laughing and slapping his legs and made so much noise and so much ruckus that the dead man got curious. He sat up in his coffin to see what was going on and all. >> And when he did that, folks just took off running in all directions. >> And then the corpse must have got a glimpse of his neighbor, and maybe some of what was happening. Because he started laughing and rocking that coffin box, almost fell out of it. >> Then it dawned on folks, there was some foolishness going on. >> So they all came back to find out what all had happened. And they all discovered that Regina May and Willa Mena had done gone and made a bet as to which one was married to the biggest fool. >> Both of which were now currently on display. [ Laughter ] >> Now you may have made up in your mind, decided which one won the bet. But we need to tell you that Regina May and Willa Mena never settled it. >> Why you can come into the community day or night. You will still hear Regina May and Willa Mena and their husbands and all the folks are still betting about it. >> They're arguing about it, going back and forth and forth and back. >> Why they sound downright foolish. >> You bet. [ Applause ] >> I want you to know this is only like the second time in a long time that we have had this opportunity and taken the opportunity to tell together. So it makes it extra special for tonight. We're going to end this little tandem part -- each of us are going to go and we'll be each doing a short solo set. And then I think a few Q and A's if you all have any questions or interview. And then we're going to end on a tandem as well at the very end. But to end this set, we're going to do another favorite, right? >> Are we going to do Jazzy? >> Yes. >> Let's do it. >> And this is one we learned from Shoshana Coriscov. She was five years old when she taught it to us. We spiffed it up a little bit here and there, filled in a few blanks and it goes like this. >> Fulfilleries I think we call it. >> I think that's it. And it goes like this. >> Once upon a time in a nursery rhyme, there were three bears. I said three bears. They all went a-walking through the green woods a-talking. Along come a little girl with long shiny golden hair. Her name was -- >> Goldilocks. >> Her name was -- >> Goldilocks. >> Upon the door she knocked. Baboom, baboom, baboom, boom, boom. >> But no one was there. >> No. >> No one was there. She walked right in, had herself a ball, a-eating and a-rocking and a-sleeping and all. >> She didn't care no one was there. >> She didn't care. >> Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa home came the three bears, tired from the woods. Ready to sit down to some homecooked goods, yeah. >> "Someone's been eating my porridge," said the Papa bear, said the Mama bear. >> "Hey Mama, she-bear," said that little wee bear. "Someone has broken my chair." >> Well they went upstairs to see what they could find, saw Goldilocks in bed asleep all the time. She woke up, broke up the party and boogied on out of there. >> "Ba-doom bye," said the Papa bear. "Ba-doom bye," said the Mama bear. >> "Hey Mama, she-bear," said that little wee bear. "What kind of bear was that there, huh?" >> And that is the story of the three bears, I said the three bears. >> I said the three. >> I said the three. >> I said the three bears. [ Applause ] >> Thank you. [ Applause ] >> I'm going off to play. >> Yep. >> Oh, thank you so much. And I didn't actually tell my video person I was going to be walking over here. But I'm going to very quickly -- the way I work on stories is to record them, so I'm going to record this little set here. And so you know, I get my stories from lots of different places. And sometimes from the newspaper. This one is a Family Circus cartoon, just a little bit that I would like to share with you. It's one of my favorites. The Mama was sitting and reading a folk tale, fairy tale, to her little boy. He was sitting right on her lap, and they got to the ending and the Mama said, "And they lived happily ever after." And that little boy said, "Boy, I did not see that coming." [ Laughter ] And I have to say, with this life unfolding of doing storytelling, I did not see this coming. But I am so grateful that everything that happened, that Barbara introduced me to storytelling. She was the first one to open that door and say, I think you can do this. And then our wonderful career together and now with both of us doing solo work, it has been quite a journey. And in these years, storytelling has taken me to all 50 states, 34 countries and six continents so far. And I think it works out well that I happen to love to travel. And I also am fascinated by maps. I always have been. You know, this idea of holding something. Now some of you here maybe have never held a paper map. But it used to be that you would fold out or have small ones and I still like to do that sometimes. Because those maps, they really represent sometimes hundreds or thousands of miles, different terrain, you know, landscapes, lakes and mountains. A dot can represent a city of 20 million people. Vast oceans. There's this magic that comes with these maps. And I happen, whenever I'm traveling out of the United States, I always travel with a laminated map. I actually brought it with me tonight. And once, a few years back, I was in kind of an isolated place in China. I was at the Wei Chin temple in the gardens. And that's right at the base of Mt. Washan. And I was going to be climbing up that mountain. I was kind of gathering myself. I'd been practicing on our steep driveway for months. And I was very excited about it. But I was walking through the gardens and no other westerners around. And I smiled at one of the villagers and right away they came up to me and indicated they wanted to have someone take their picture of themselves and me. They wanted a picture with me. And I was a little bit flattered, but it was only later that I found out there are not many gray-haired people in China. [ Laughter ] And so it was a little of that, there was a little ulterior motive that they were wanting this picture with me. But I don't speak any Mandarin. I don't speak any of the dialects. But I did what I always do when I'm traveling. I pulled out this laminated map. It's a small one, folds in threes. And on one side is the world. So I turned it to the world side and pointed to where we were in eastern China. And then I pointed to the United states, you know, for me. And then I turned that map over -- and almost everyone everywhere I've traveled, no matter how remote the place might be, people seem to know the English words "New York and San Francisco." And so I pointed those out on this larger map of the United States. And then I pointed to North Carolina, Asheville where I was living. Back to me. And like that, we were talking. We were having this conversation without knowing each other's languages. I also travel with photographs. And I had some pictures of my husband Phil and of the Appalachian mountains where we live, a picture of my cat Alaska. And by this time, a few more people had joined our circle and it was getting kind of bigger and bigger. And people took the photos and they started, and then someone else walked up and someone was showing that person her husband, and this is her cat. And showing I was able to hear some of those words with a mandarin accent. And it was really quite magical and extraordinary to me, to know that this map is this gateway to communicating. This way of without knowing other languages, it really opens the door to that. So I have always had this fascination with maps. So as you might imagine, for a map geek, I was quite delighted when Google Maps came along. And I used it quite a bit, and a number of years ago I was invited to come down to Australia to do some storytelling in a workshop. And the people that had hired me had sent me the address of the workshop. And I had a friend who was living right outside -- the workshop was going to be in Sydney. And I had a friend who was living outside of Sydney at the time. And I thought, "Oh, I wonder where she is in relationship to this workshop. Maybe she could attend or something." And so I went straight to Google and I typed in 1154 New Trion Road, South Wales, Sydney, Australia. And you know, Google located that. And the next thing, if you use Google, the next thing that pops up is your home address. And I thought, "Huh, I wonder how Google would take me from Asheville to Australia." So I pressed Get Directions. And without thinking, I pressed print. [ Laughter ] 17 pages later, I had intricate directions for my home on Vance Gap to New Trion Road. So Google suggested, as I was imagining my way west, Google suggested 40 and then heading up to Chicago; from Chicago over to Nebraska, and then taking I-84 into Boise, Idaho. I thought that was an interesting choice. [ Laughter ] Then I was to continue west. And when I got to the Oregon coast, Google said, get in your kayak. [ Laughter ] 2,786 miles later, which took 14 days and 5 hours according to Google, I came to the shore of Hawaii. Now Google already knew that there was a road closure and so I was going to have to take a detour. But I made my way. I was starting across. You know, and I saw signs for Honolulu, and I must admit I was tempted to make a side trip. But I thought, "No, I have got to keep my focus." Plus I was lugging that kayak. So I got all the way to the other end of Hawaii and Google distinctly said for me to get back in that kayak, and I was to go 3,879 miles to Japan. Now it was on this part of the trip that I passed the international date line. Not only the time changes, but the date changes. It was the first time in my life that I had a geographical reason to be a day behind myself. I landed in Japan and I was to go just a half-mile and pick -- oh my goodness. Oh, all of a sudden the directions where in Kanji. All of the signs were in the Japanese language with characters. But somehow I made my way down Japan, the whole country, paying a few tolls. I had to take a ferry. But then Google insisted I get back in the kayak and 17 days later, I hit landfall at Australia. And it was a relatively easy trip down to Sydney. [ Laughter ] Now at that point, I had been working out a lot. And I do a modified Crossfit and I was deadlifting. At the time I was deadlifting 82 pounds and I was doing dead arm hangs and squats. But I must admit, Google had a better opinion of my physical capabilities than I did, thinking that I could be in open waters in the Pacific 11,233 miles. But I'll tell you, I have continued working out. Let me get something here and I'll show you. And I continued working out and I am actually now deadlifting double what I was deadlifting then. I'm the strongest I've ever been in my life. So who knows? Maybe I will give it a try, and if I do, I have the directions. [ Laughter ] Thank you. [ Applause ] Oh my. This happened a few years ago, and I went back -- you know, I was in my office late that night and I got so tickled, I almost lost my breath when all of this started printing out. And I went back about two or three months after that and I thought, "You know, I'm just going to print out another copy." By then they were already saying, "Cannot calculate." So this might -- Library of Congress is getting this copy and this might be one of the only copies of directions from 51 Vance Gap, Asheville to New South Wales, Sydney. So I'm going to -- let me just check my time here. Yeah, good. So I'd like to tell you, take you back on that journey, change the mood with this next story and tell you another favorite. Especially from the early days. It's one that really became my signature story. And I feel it's one that helped take Barbara and I onto main stages of folk music festivals all over the United States. Because I think for a lot of people it was like, "Oh yes, storytelling's not only for children. It's for everyone." And some of them are more for adults. And this is one of those. It's a story that takes place back in the times when people really depended on horses, when they were a part of their daily lives, as was death. Something they had to deal with and we have to deal with today. It's called The Two White Horses. Amanda Jane fixed me with her big, round eyes. "Mama will be home tomorrow, won't she, Jenny?" She held tight to her ragdoll. I almost said, "Mama will never be back, Mandy," but I choked back the words. How could you tell that to such a little young'in? When the neighbor women came to get Mama ready for the burying, they took Mandy and little Joey over to the men's house. Nales Woodsby brought the box to lay Mama in. They put on her best taffeted dress, the one with the stand-up collar she only wore to church on Sundays. And on Mama's breast there was pinned Aunt Jenny's pin, beautiful. She looks so beautiful in that coffin. Well, folks came and it was Bert and Doc who loaded up the coffin. He loaded it up into the back of the wagon and Bert and Doc pulled that wagon slow-like all the way up to Graveyard Hill. Mama always loved that view. You could look out over most of Greenup County with the river winding below. Meadowlarks were singing and I could smell honeysuckle on the warm air. But I had a cold, drizzly feeling inside. The sunshine seemed all wrong. Preacher Gorge made a long sermon, saying what a fine woman Mama was and telling things from the Bible. But I wished he wouldn't talk so long. I was afraid Papa was going to break down and cry. He looked so sad and stern. Charline Moss and Leslie Crunk sang, "You've Got to Walk that Lonesome Valley." You've got to walk it all alone. I could just see Mama, dressed in white, walking down a long, lonesome road all by herself. At the end, Papa asked them to sing her favorite hymn, Precious Memories. I almost smothered when they set down that coffin. I could see Mama through a little window in the lid. It looked like she was just asleep. They commend to shove them in the dirt. I ran down the hill and waited with Burton Dock. Everybody left the graveyard and we all walked home. The house seemed so empty and quiet, the old clock ticking on the mantle. I missed Mama. She was always busy around the house, and the kitchen smelled good from things she'd have cooking on the stove. She'd call me to go carry a bucket of water from the well or go hunt the guinea's nest. But she was gone now. It seems like it took me a long time to get supper ready. Cornmeal mash had lumps in it and it tasted kind of scorched. But Papa said it was real good and he was proud of me. When bedtime came, little Joey hollered for Mama. He was terribly fussy because he hadn't had his nap on account of the burying. I could hardly get him into his trundle bed. Didn't have no trouble with Mandy though. She sleeps with me. Then Papa blew out the lamp and climbed into the big four-poster bed in the corner, alone. A huge moon came up behind the barn, making dark shadows. Chickens that perched in the butternut tree were already on their roosting limb. Papa's gun was on its rack over the door, ready, in case anything bad should happen. I couldn't get to sleep. I kept thinking about Mama up there in that graveyard with all those dead people. Little Carter boy who jived the thrash was near her. Grass hadn't grown back over his grave yet. Over by the stone wall was old Miss Crower. She got so heavy, she couldn't get out of her chair. She died of heart dropsy. Outside, the crickets were chirping. I wondered if they were chirping up at the graveyard too. Old Yellow Throat gave a few clucks and chats from over in the blackberry briars. Sometimes he sings at night, especially if there's a big moon shining. I felt all shivery. Then I heard something else. Slow footsteps came dragging across the front porch. There was a knock at the front door. Papa's bed creaked as he sat up and reached for his clothes. "Who's there?" "Open the door, Clint. It's me, Alphea," Mama's voice answered. It sounded weak and far away. "I've come home from the grave." "No, no, go away," Papa almost shouted. "You're a ghost that's come to trouble me. Oh, I'm wretched enough, Alphea. My heart is wrung with sorrow." "Open the door, Clint. Let me in." "No, Alphea. It's the moon that's got you awake. The moon's so big and strange tonight and the shadows are so dark. Go back to your grave and sleep in peace. No." "Let me in." "No, Alphea, it's the moonlight that's made you restless. Last night it shone through the window on your pale face, and you a corpse awaiting for the burying. They say if it shines on your face when you're asleep, it will drive you mad. Maybe even the dead." "Oh, but I wasn't dead Clint. I must have been in a deep, dark sleep. Believe me, truly I'm alive. Oh, let me in before it's too late." The voice drifted away. The little ones were so scared, they hid under the covers. I was scared too. Papa turned to us and he said, "Children, if our two horses have their heads out of the stall windows a-looking the way they do when someone comes, I'll know for sure it's your Mama." He went over and he drew up the shades. "They're there. Burt and Doc have their heads out. Did you hear Doc knicker?" Papa hastened to the door and he threw it open. He caught Mama's arms just as she was about to fall. He carried her over the bed and laid her across it. "Jenny, run and make Mama some hot comfy tea. She's so cold. Alphea, I saw Nales Woodsby nail down that coffin lid and dirt shuffled in on it. How'd you escape?" Mama took a deep breath. "Well, a grave robber dug up my coffin and pried off the lid. He stole grandmother's broach, but he couldn't get my rings off. He was trying to cut away my fingers." "What do you mean, Mama? Then what?" Well, the pain got me awake. When I sat up and screamed, that old man hollered too." [ Laughter ] "He dropped his knife and went hopping away across those graves. It was that strange Ralph Sinion who lives back in the swamps." I tugged at Mama's sleeve. "Mama, how'd you get all the way home?" She stroked my hair. "Well, I pulled myself up out of that coffin and walked home. The moon was so bright it lit up the fields. I came by the crossroads, took the old mill road to the foot of our lane. Oh, it was so far, so far." "That dirty runion stealing from the dead. I'll stomp him!" "Why, Clint, if it hadn't been for that old scow, I'd still be in my coffin, buried alive." The next day, Papa took a wide board and he sawed out two horses' heads. He painted them white like Bert and Doc and he nailed them to the side of the stall window so we'd never forget how it was those horses that knew it was mama that night in the moonlight when she knocked at our door. And that's a true story that happened in Irwin, Tennessee. Thank you. [ Applause ] Thank you. [ Applause ] Thank you. [ Applause ] It still is one of my favorites. And the woman that wrote the words down to that story, Eliza Sieman, I met her when she was in her 70s. God, I'm in my 70s. Oh, my gracious. I met her a long time ago in 1974. And she lived on this side of Coffee Ridge and Tumbling Creek, a tiny little community outside of Irwin, Tennessee, east Tennessee. And she lived -- I went up there and visited many times. She lived at the end of the dirt road and the end of the gravel road, at the end of the road. And back during World War II, she used to go across the mountains, Coffee Ridge, and sit with a woman named Becky Farner. And this had happened to someone in Becky's family. And Eliza then wrote the words down and gifted me with the story. And I told that story at the second National Storytelling Festival when I was featured. And now that was 44 years ago. So that was the first time that I told it. I'm going to end, and I will say that you know, people used to really be afraid of being buried alive. And my dad was raised in New Orleans, born in 1911. And he said when anyone died, that there was always this hope they could somehow come back, and also a fear that they might. And people used to be buried with a bell in their coffin. I mean, actually the string was in the coffin and the string then was attached to a bell outside in the grave yard. And it was so they could pull that bell if they had been buried alive. And that's where we get the phrase, saved by the bell. So I'm going to end this on one short little story, and then Barbara's going to come up and then we'll move right along for the rest of the evening. This is one -- I like to think of it as bringing my Mama on stage. I just told you about my daddy, but Mary Agnes Freeman is the one that told me this. The telephone rang, and a voice said, "Is your mama home?" A little boy answered it, "No." "Hmm. Is your daddy there?" "No, he's busy." "Oh. Is anybody else there?" "Just the policeman." "Oh, the policeman, may I speak to him pleas?" "He's busy." "Well, what in the world are they all doing?" "They are all looking for me." A story for you to take away and tell. Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you. [ Applause ] Come right on up if you want. >> I will. >> Yeah, come on up and I will come down. They're going to turn me off here. >> Can somebody with more muscles than me bring a chair up here? Thank you. Well, I have arms but I don't have my chainsaw. [ Laughter ] No, this will be fine, I think. Let me see where I'm going to put that puppy. That was beautiful, Connie. I just love that Two White Horses. That was just so special. By the way, in relationship to the bell above the graveyard, most of those people are Avon representatives to this very day. [ Laughter ] Does the name Quasi Modo ring a bell? Bell ringing of Notre Dame. I'm sorry. Well, once but not so very long ago, there lived an old man named Joseph. Everybody called him Old Joe. He was quite a character. He had a great sense of humor, and he loved rhymes and riddles and songs and jokes. He had a good life. He was a farmer, and he raised cows and chickens and such as that. And his garden was the most beautiful in the entire community, because between the rows of vegetables he had beautiful flowers growing. Even the cornstalk as it made its way up to the sunshine, he had planted a little sunflower seed right next to each one of them so his whole garden was just full of sunshine. And he had something that he was very grateful for, a very best friend that just lived a farm away. Yes, sir, you could go down Old Joe's hill and his neighbor would come down his hill. There was a little dip in the land and these two friends would meet there every day. And you know, these two elderly gentlemen, they had a lot in common. They were both widowers, so they had that grief and that sorrow to share about their beloved wives. But they also had all that joy to talk about. The potluck suppers, the church picnics, the country dances and just all four of them getting together. And Old Joe and his best friend, when they met at that little dip of the land each morning, they would talk about religion and politics and the events of the day, and their dreams and their hopes. And if one of them got sick, the other was sure to bring them a little something to eat and maybe a funny story to lift up their spirits. Well, one day Joe got powerful sick. And he didn't show up, and the neighbor, he looked down his hillside and up the other and he saw that Joe's house was all shut up tight, shutters and all. And it looked really dreary. And he saw that the horse and the buggy were still there. He knew something was wrong, so he went into his kitchen way and he made him some chicken soup and he brought it down the hill and up the other side and knocked on the door. And there was a very weak voice said, "Come in." And when the neighbor opened the door and he saw Old Joe lying there like that, he knew he was powerful sick. So he tried to make a little funny and he said, "Well, Joe, you look like death eating a cracker without the cracker." And Joe said, "You know, I've got the chills and then I've got the fever, and my bones ache all over my body. I've never felt this bad before, and I see you brought me some food. I appreciate you. But just put it over there. I don't think I can eat anything." And his neighbor just pulled up a chair and he said, "Well, you know, Joe, I'm going to tell you something. I really missed you down in our little meeting place because I'm out this morning early milking my favorite cow early and had my hand son the udders there. Putting that milk right into the bucket, and all of the sudden [buzzing] there come this little old fly and he was flying so funny-like. He was doing spirals and dips and dives and I noticed why. One little wing was kind of torn and tattered just a little bit. And he [buzzing] went right up to Earline's ear and she was flicking that ear and just moving around and flashing her tail. And I thought, "I'm going to end up with churned butter here if I'm not careful." It really agitated my cow. And all of the sudden, he flew out and she settled down and I kept on a-milking. And then [buzzing] went right into her ear and I had to finish up. I never did see the little thing leave, but I finished my milking and I'm heading back tom y house and I'm thinking, you know, I'm going to make -- are you feeling okay for this, little buddy? Okay, I'll go on then. So I'm walking back to the house and I'm thinking, you know, I'm going to have the best cup of coffee known to mankind. I'm going to skim off some of that cream and -- yeah, I can't wait. And I look down into the bucket and there I saw doing the backstroke on top of that cream was that same little fly what had been in Earline's ear. And I knew it was the same one because its little wing was torn and tattered a little bit. And when I saw that, it made me think of my mama. She'd take that arthritic finger and she'd say, "You're not listening to me." And then she'd say something else." And Joe said, "Well, you know, I'm always able to finish your stories and riddles and such, but with the fever, I can't come up with it. I just can't do it. My brain is -- I can't do it. It's too hot." "Well, Joe, I'm going to tell you the first line of what my mama said and I know you'll be able to finish it off. When I saw that fly in that milk, I said, "In one ear -- "" And Joe said, "And out the udder." [ Laughter ] And you know, just that little bit of a smile, Joe found himself just sitting up in the bed and he said, "Hand me that soup. I'm going to take it out." And this is the way it always was with these two best friends. But one day something happened to change all that. They were down in that little dip of the land and they got into an argument. And their voices had some hate in it, and their hearts were filled with bitterness. And they were shouting at each other. You see, a cow had given birth to a little calf and both neighbors were claiming it as their own. "Well, it's got the markings of my favorite cow. It doesn't take any more than an idiot to see that." "Well, your favorite cow looks like all my cows, and who's land do you think it was born on anyway?" And that's the way it went until these two turned their backs, one to the other, and they went up their hillsides without looking back. And turned into their homes, shut themselves inside, warning never to speak again. Well, the weeks went by and Joe, he was feeling alone and wanting company, but he wasn't about to make amends. And apparently neither was his neighbor. Now one day, there come a knock at the door, and Joe went to the door and he cracked it open a little bit. And he saw a young man standing there and he had a toolbox full of tools on his shoulder and Joe said, "What be your business?" And the young man said, "Sir, I need a job of work. I was wondering sir if you have any projects I could help you with around the farm. Oh, mister, I really need the work." Well, Joe in his way said, "Well, I may look old, but let me tell you something, young fella. If something's broke around my farm and needs fixing, I just -- " and all of the sudden he felt in his heart, filled up with that hunger, a hunger he had for company and conversation, just to talk to somebody. And so he cut himself short and he said, "Well, I'll tell you what, young fella. I don't reckon I have any projects as you say to do, but I tell you what I do have. I've got me some coffee to perking. I've got some homemade bread, fresh-churned butter. Why don't you just come in here and sit a spell and we can have a little chat or so. And then you can be about looking for your job of work." And the young man said he'd like that. So he came in and they sat down at the table. And Joe, he started telling him all kinds of jokes and funny stories. And the young man was smiling real big and Joe was just laughing outright, and then all of the sudden Joe glanced out the window down his hillside and his heart was filled with resentment. And he turned to the young man and said, "You know, I think I've got a project for you. Now look out that window way there and you see out there down at the bottom of my hill we got a little ditch that is supposed to be now I guess called a creek or something. You see my neighbor wants to divide us, so he had a spring pond up there. And he takes his tractor and he turned it out and flooded this little old dip in the land there, and now we got ourselves a bubbling brook, a little creek, whatever you want to call it. Now I'd like to do him one better. I would like for you to go down by the water and build me a fence. And I mean a real tall fence so I don't ever have to see him or his cows or his creek ever again. Do you think you could do that?" And the young man said, "Joe, I've got the tools. And if you've got the lumber, I think I can do a job you'll be well pleased with." So Joe took him to the barn and there was stacks and stacks of wood and panels, lumber and plenty enough to do the job. And then Joe told him and said, "I can't grow everything and I need to go into town and lay in some supplies. But I'm telling you what, young fella, I'll be back before sunset, because I want to see that fence. And make it mighty tall, mighty tall." And Joe, he got the horse and the buggy and he started on off down the road. Down that dusty road toward town. And that young man, he took all those lumber planks down creekside and his work, it went really well. He hammered, sawed and fashioned with nails. And he worked the whole day. And just before sunset, Joe pulled in and he got right out of his buggy and he just came around to the back of his cabin so he could see that fence. But there was no fence at all. But rather that young man, he had built a bridge and that bridge was going from Joe's land across that creek over to his neighbors. And down the hillside was coming Joe's neighbor. And Joe headed down his hillside. And the neighbor was the first to step onto the bridge and he extended his hand. "Oh, Joe, you're quite a man. I'd have never thought of this. I just want to be your friend again." "Yeah, I've missed you and can I just say that all that bitterness and those words we had, we can just let them go in one ear-- " And the neighbor said, "And out the udder." And then they were walking across the bridge and Joe told him, "We all know the calf was yours. But let me tell you something, this idea about the bridge, I wish it was mine, I really do. But it wasn't. It's this young fellow here." And about that time, that young man had taken that tool box, put it back on his shoulders and he was walking away. Joe hollered after him, "Hey, young fella, I do like your projects and you can tell I've got a lot of work to do here at the farm. I'd hire you up, pay you a good wage. You know, I'm a pretty good cook and you can stay in the bunkhouse." "Joe, I would like that. I would like that so very much, but I've got to be moving on. I've got more bridges to build." Thank you. [ Applause ] So now I'm going to tell you something that five words are going to help you remember. And the five words are "everybody knows old Dry Fry." Now you can just turn to the person closest to you and say those five words. It really helps us all get our memory back. That and coconut oil will do the trick. So everybody knows old Dry Fry. Try it out. Everybody knows old Dry Fry. Yeah, boy. Old Dry Fry was a substitute preacher and he loved to do that. But what he loved more than anything in all the world was fried chicken. Now Dry Fry had a 9:00-5:00 job. He was a veterinarian. And right next to his little veterinary, he had a taxidermy. Now you know if you're out fishing and you catch a big old huge bass, you're not going to eat it. You're going to take it to a taxidermist and get him to gut it out and put it on a wooden board and tack it up over the wall and you can say that's the one that never got away. Well, Dry Fry was really known for his veterinary and his taxidermy. But what he was most known for was the sign he put out front. It read, "Either way, you get your dog back." [ Laughter ] And you know, people would be coming down the road or they'd be riding in their buggies or sweethearts would be holding hands. And they would see that sign and they would turn one to another and say five words, "Everybody knows old Dry Fry." Yeah, boy. One day old Dry Fry was at a church and picnic. And nobody went to the regular pastor to say, "Pastor, please ask the Lord to put the blessing on the food so we can eat." No, they went to Preacher Fry because they knew he talked so rapid and so fast, by the time he got into the blessing and pulled out, the food would still be hot. So Dry Fry allowed he'd be glad to do it. And he started in with the blessing and one thing would pop into his head and then another and then another still, and he'd say things like, "Bless the farmer that grew the bird we're going to eat, bless the little seed that went into the ground, the little bud that came up and the little bud that grew into the big cornstalk. And bless -- " he went on and on. And he got to talking so fast that his false teeth got loose and they flung out of his mouth and dropped down deep into a mudhole. And everybody wanted to help out Preacher Fry and fish out them teeth for him and all, but nobody was willing to put their hand down into that mud and get worms or nothing, or worse yet get bit by them chompers. And that's when little Amandy Durrigan, sharp as a tack, 11 years old, bright little girl, she went right over to a picnic basket, got herself out a big old piece of friend chicken, tied a string onto it, brought that chicken over above that mudhole and dangled it for bait. And sure enough, them old teeth come flying up out of that mudhole, latched rung onto that piece of chicken. It took three grown adults to rip and tear that chicken meat out from betweenst them working chompers. And then somebody came up with some homemade lemonade, rinsed them off, mud and worms and all and drip-dried them a little bit. And then there was a little boy with a beautiful little sweet heart. And he came up with this half-eaten jar of peanut butter. And he dug in there real deep and he put some peanut butter up on top of them chompers for sticking power, gave those teeth back to Dry Fry and he was as good as new. But he finished the blessing with one word. "Amen." And everybody turned one to another and said five words, "Everybody knows old Dry Fry." Now I have picked a person out of the audience to help tell with me the last scene of Dry Fry. So Tom, come on up here. [ Applause ] You can come up that way. And do you have your microphone? >> I do. >> All right. I love to do this when I tell Dry Fry. I always pick somebody out of the audience. So count your blessings and let this be one of them. What I always say to my volunteer is I pick a volunteer that has no sense of pride about them whatsoever. Oh, you wore a hat. That is so good. Okay. So to help us get started into this, I'm going to need five words. >> Everybody knows old Dry Fry. >> Yeah, boy. One day old Dry Fry was at the county fair, looking around for his best friend. Brother Henry, give me five. Brother Henry, I hear tell, here at the fair they're willing to sell some of their prized horses. >> Well, let's get us a couple. >> That's a great idea. Look, reach out with your hand here. Wow. Here's two fine-looking horses. We're going to put them in the same pasture. Stepping back and looking at these two fine critters, you know, I think they look exactly alike. I don't know how we're ever going to tell them apart. >> Identical. >> Identical has a whole new meaning. They're practically twins. I don't how we're going to tell my horse from -- oh, I've got it. Let's measure them. Well, I never. >> I never too. >> Let's measure them the other way. Well, I never. >> I never too. >> They are exactly alike. I don't know how we're ever going to tell them apart. Oh, I've got it. You stand there. I'm going to go back here behind this horse closest to me, Brother Henry. Raise up that tail, take off some of them scraggly hairs and that other horse over there with the long tail, well that will just be yours. See you tomorrow. >> See you tomorrow too. >> Oh, well, I never. >> I never too. They both got sawed-off tails. Must have got caught in the brambly bushes. They're the same again. Now I don't know how we're going to tell them apart. Oh, I've got it. Just on this horse closest to me, I'm going to take a little clip off of this one's ear and that other one over there with the full ears, well that's going to be yours. See you tomorrow. >> See you tomorrow too. >> Well, I never. >> Well, I never too. >> They both got clips out of their ears. Must have got caught in the barby wire fence. They're the same again. I don't know how we're ever going to tell them apart. What are we going to do? I'm plumb out of ideas. >> I got an idea. >> Let's have it. >> You take the black one and I'll take the white one. [ Laughter ] >> There you go. Wahoo. I told you no pride. [ Applause ] Oh Tom, that was so beautiful. You were so good. [ Applause ] And I've been telling stories for 48 years and Tom is fresh out of the audience, but he is fabulous. Thank you, Tom. That was so wonderful. And Tom's beautiful wife is Janet, and Connie and I would stay with their family year after year after year when we first started traveling on the road. So it was a second home for us and we were always welcome there. So is that it for me? [ Inaudible ] Yeah, we're going to have an interview now, and then Connie and I will end on another folk teller story. Y'all are so cool. Thank you so much. [ Applause ] Thank you, sweetie. Okay. [ Inaudible ] I think you should sit on that end, and Connie and I -- That way we don't have to swivel our heads around. All right. >> Thea Austen: Y'all doing okay? So we'll just do a little short thing here and -- >> Steve Winick: All right. Hey. >> Steve. >> Steve Winick: Hi. >> Yay. >> Steve Winick: My name is Steve Winnick. I'm the editor in the American Folk Life Center and I'll just be doing a brief interview here to bring out some of the background to the folk tellers and some of these stories. And in particular, I think one thing that people are usually interested in is the story of how you guys got started as professional storytellers. So you know, you were telling me before about how the storytelling scene has kind of shifted from a lot of traditional stories to a lot of personal experience stories. So now I'm asking for the tandem telling of your personal experience. >> Well, Barbara was a children's and young adult librarian in Chattanooga. And I went to visit her and I had just gotten back from spending a year hitchhiking around in Europe. And I was really hoping to go back to Europe. But I went to visit Barbara, my dear first cousin. And she told me about this job. >> The librarian here has written a big, wonderful grant for disadvantaged children, economically poor kids and we need a storyteller to be in a cute little van all covered with daisies. And you get to give out books to children. And even if they're in bed with five other kids at their house and something happens bad to the book, you know, we want them to know that honey, you get another book. This time put it on top of your refrigerator. And we just want them to have a complete love of books. And Connie was Miss Daisy in the blue dress with daisies all over it. She matched the van. And she was fantastic. >> And that was really the best of children's literature too. It wasn't just you know, the inexpensive books on the corner shelf. It was really the award-winners, Caldecott Award and all that. The program is actually still going on. >> It is. >> It started in 1971. That's when I started as a storyteller, and it's still going on. And then Barbara and I quit those library jobs. We really loved them, but we had started doing -- >> Steve Winick: Well, we appreciate libraries and library jobs. >> Yeah, we do. >> We do. >> Steve Winick: How to parlay your library job into a glamorous life of storytelling. >> That's right. And during that time I had heard about the first National Storytelling Festival. And I wrote Jimmy Neil Smith who was putting it on and said, "I'm a storyteller in Chattanooga. My cousin and I both tell." And he said, "Come on up." And we ended up telling at that very first one. And within a couple of years after that, we decided to quit those jobs we loved and got a little pickup truck with a topper on it and put all of our belongings and lived and traveled out of that. >> It was a Dotson pickup truck. And when I bought it, it was red and I thought it was a fire engine. So I had the first yellow Dotson pickup truck, the really small kind. And so we named it DPUT, Dotson Pickup Truck. 200,000 miles on that old puppy and it was really wonderful. >> Yeah. And so then we started traveling and lots of people invited us onto the stages of the Folk Music Festivals back in those days and things just kept unfolding. >> Steve Winick: All right. So that's a great way to get started. And there's a person or a family that was particularly important in getting you inspired and started, and there's pictures of them outside on the table out there. We're talking about the Hicks family, particularly Ray and Rosa Hicks. >> Yeah. >> Steve Winick: So tell us about how you came together with them and how they inspired you. >> We met them at the very first national storytelling festival, 1973 there in Jonesborough, Tennessee. They'd come down out of the mountains, this giant of a man, really a giant in so many ways. But literally 6-feet-7-inches tall. They invited him up onto this stage. There was actually a recording of this that I still have. And he told one of the Jack tales. And afterwards, Barbara and I both went up to him and met his wife Rosa who stood just barely five feet -- there's a picture of her out there on the table as well. And we walked all around town that day and we all fell in love with each other. And then that began this dear friendship that lasted for me with them until Ray passed away on April 21st in 2003. And Rosa passed away in 2012 I think it was. >> I'd like to say something here too. Because I just admire Connie so much. And the Hicks family still had the outhouse. They still had to go out to the spring to get all their water to wash their dishes and to boil their food and whatever. And Connie was very instrumental in taking carpenters and raising money, fundraising and stuff like that, f-u-n and f-u-n-d raising for Ray Hicks and Rosa. Got them in an addition built onto their house. And the other part sometimes was filled with snakes that would come up through the cracks and the wood was so -- anyway, renovated but still looked like the old home place. And gave them flush toilets and water pipelined in so they could still go to the outhouse if they wanted to for nostalgic reasons. But they didn't have to in the cold, bitter winter. And so I just think that -- Connie has even gone to Africa and me women that are so impoverished, but they did have a means of taking magazines from America, you know, and tearing the pages and putting a little bit of glue-type on it to where it looked like a real jewel. Do you have on one right now? See how real that looks? It's paper magazines. And so Bead For Life, Connie was very instrumental in coming back to America and telling the story of these women and selling their stuff for them and sending the money back to them. So I just admire you to pieces for that. >> Oh, thank you. That's very dear to my heart. >> And you probably didn't tell them that in the interview. >> I didn't. Yeah. >> Steve Winick: All right. Well, another thing that did come up in the interview was a particular story that Connie, you had about Ray. And it involves your license plate. >> Oh yeah, that's cute. >> Yeah. So I was asked by the Candinsky trio, a piano trio, cello, violin and piano, to do storytelling with them. And we created based on Ray Hicks' version of Wicked John the Devil, and also Barbara Freeman's version of that story. We created a story called the Cantankerous Blacksmith. And our intention was all four of us were telling it on stage as a quartet. Sometimes only the violin, sometimes only me, sometimes all four of us. And we toured this all over. And there were nine presenting universities that said, "Yes, we will do this new work," which is quite a challenge for chamber music often. And they were up and down the Appalachians. One of those was at Boone at the University, Appalachian State, yeah. Appalachian State. And this was before Ray and Rosa had a telephone or that indoor plumbing. And so I had written them and told them about this that was going to happen. And I had no idea if they were going to be able to come. I had arranged several people that could maybe pick them up, but they'd have to write them or just go and see if they wanted to come. And it was a highlight of my life walking out on stage, the trio and I in tuxes -- I had a glittery, slivery white outfit with black tux -- and seeing Ray and some of his family sitting in the second row. And Ray listened to that storytelling. Such an odd way probably to his ear, but laughing and slapping his leg. And afterwards we walked outside and we were saying our goodbyes. And Ray said for me, he asked me to not let anyone ever forget him. So I tell a lot of the stories, I carry his pictures wherever I go. And he turned to me and he said, "Connie, tell on, tell on." And that's now my license tag. [ Laughter ] Thanks for asking. >> Steve Winick: So I wanted to make sure that we didn't forget Ray as well, bringing that up. >> Yeah. >> Steve Winick: Another story that came up in our interview earlier today was one of Barbara's stories about telling a particular story in a particular place and the importance of that. Could you tell the audience a little about that? >> Do you want me to actually do a couple of scenes but Cliffnote it? >> Steve Winick: Yeah, that would be great. >> Okay. Well, I was asked where was my favorite place to tell a favorite story. And I actually went to Jerusalem. I had to sell all of my Limber Jacks, you know, those little dancing dolls that you see on a paddle and you hit the paddle and you lower the doll and the dance? I had 82 of them but I was keeping two and I called Gale Haley, a famous illustrator too. She won the Caldecott medal. And I said, "Gale, you've seen me at book conferences and stuff. I want to go to Jerusalem and Bethlehem and Nazareth, the holy land. It's $999." And she said, "Well," -- she said, "I will come there because I really like those. They look like real people." Like you have one that's Mini Pearl with the little tag on her hat. And I had roosters and frogs and just everything. So she came and she said, "Barbara, I'll give you $1,000." And I said, "That is terrific. Isn't that just like the Lord to give you one lousy buck once you've got there, you know?" I was very blessed to go. I really enjoyed it. But when I was there -- [ Laughter ] When I was there, I thought here I am you know, walking the Villa de la Rosa for the crucifixion of Jesus, and here I am on Bethlehem on my birthday. And so when it came time for me to tell a story there, I thought about telling my favorite story which is the Tale of Three Trees. And three trees are dreaming about what they want to be when they grow up. And one wants to -- he sees the stars in the heavens and he wants to hold magnificent diamonds like the stars and jewels. And he wants to be made into a beautiful treasure chest. Another tree sees the creek going by, making its way to the mighty waters of the ocean. And he wants to be a sailing ship, a wooden sailing ship that's so powerful and so strong that he would be the one to carry kings to and fro. And the third tree just wanted to stay on the mountaintop and grow so tall and taller still that when people wanted to look at me, they'd have to raise their eyes. And when they did, I would point to heaven and perhaps they would think of God. I will be the tallest tree in the world. Well the years go by and the rain came down, and the sun, and they grew tall and taller still. And one day, three woodcutters came to the top of the mountain and the first one went over to the first tree and said, it's perfect for what my needs are. And with the last swoop of his ax, the tree fell, thinking, "I will be inlaid with gold and silver and hold treasure." The second woodcutter went to the second tree and said, "Looks strong. I'll take it." With the last two swoop-swoop of his ax, the tree fell thinking, "I will sail the mighty waters of the ocean, a sailing ship." The third tree, she stood so tall and straight and still and she pointed to heaven. But that woodcutter, he did not even look up at her. "Any old tree will do for me," he said. He came over and with his ax, the third blow took down the third three, swoop, swoop, swoop. And she fell. The years went by. The three trees had almost forgotten their dreams. Because the first tree, when it was cut, it was taken to a carpenter's shop. "I will be inlaid with gold." But that carpenter, he was not thinking of treasure chests. He needed something more practical. So with his work-worn hands, he built a simple feed box and it was inlaid with something, if you will, sawdust. And it was taken to a farm and placed there so that hay was put into it and animals could come up and eat out of it. The second tree was taken to the shipyards, but they were not building the strong vessels. So the second tree was made into a small fishing boat, too small to sail a river, much less the mighty waters of the ocean. So he sailed to and fro, to and fro with a cargo of dead, smelly fish. And the third tree was just taken to a lumber yard, made into some beams and left there. So they had almost forgotten their dreams, but one cold, bitter winter night, golden starlight shone down on the first tree as a young mother placed her newborn babe onto the hay. Her husband said, "I wish I could have made a cradle for him." But that mother when she saw that smooth, sturdy wood and that golden starlight on her baby, she touched her husband's arm and she said, "This manger is beautiful." And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure on earth. And the second tree is sailing in the quiet lake when a traveling man and his companions come and one by one by one, they get onto the small fishing boat and it starts out on the quiet lake. And then something happened. There was a terrible storm. The thunder, the lightning, the hurling wind. And the waters of the quiet lake became like the angry waves of the ocean. And the passengers were so frightened and the second tree said, "I'm too small, to weak to carry these passengers safely to shore. They will all perish." And just then that traveling man who was so tired and had gone to sleep, he woke up and he stretched out his hand and he said, "Peace, be still." And as soon as he spoke, there was no more storm, and the waters were quiet again. And the second tree knew that he was carrying the king of heaven and earth. Do you want me to tell about the third tree? >> Steve Winick: You might as well. [ Laughter ] >> That's the cliffhanger. Well, the third tree was so confused. "What has happened? All I ever wanted to do was to stay on the mountaintop and point to God. What's happened?" It was on a Friday. She was roughly shaken and removed from the forgotten woodpile. She was carried through a mob of angry, jeering people and they were picking up the waste from the streets and hurling it at her. And then she shuddered in her heart when a soldier nailed a man's hands and feet to her. And she felt cruel and ugly and harsh. And then she heard the man say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." And the third tree felt sorrow. But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose in the heavens and the earth trembled with joy beneath the third tree, suddenly she realized God's love had changed everything. It had made the first tree beautiful. It had made the second tree strong. And whenever anyone thought on the third tree, they would think of God, and that was better than being the tallest tree in the world. So that's what I told in Jerusalem. [ Applause ] >> Steve Winick: So it looks like I turned the interview into another story. [Laughs] >> Sorry about that. >> That happens as storytellers. >> Steve Winick: I think I had better let you tell your tandem story, your last tandem story. >> Okay, that sounds good. >> I've been waiting for that story like Old Joe and the Carpenter. It was anonymous, and both of them are over 100 years old. >> Thank you very much, Steve. [ Applause ] As we are closing for this evening, we also want to thank Todd Harvey. He and Valda have been my main contacts here for getting my collection going. It's now up online which I'm thrilled about. And Todd was called out of town on a family emergency, so he wasn't able to be here tonight, but we are thinking about him. And we'll dedicate this last story to him. And we mentioned about us being first cousins and such. And we used to always gather down in Polatka, Florida. >> Yeah, we are two of 13 cousins and we would get on a train or we would drive up with our families in cars from Birmingham and Nashville, Tennessee and all over. And we'd all gather at my cousin Cindy's place and our Uncle Phil in order to spend all summer long after school with our beloved grandfather Samuel Enos Freeman. >> And Pop Freeman taught us a lot, but he taught each one of us about fishing. And we kind of each developed our own style. And once I was sitting down a long the bank of the river. Big live oaks down there in Polatka, Florida with heavy moss hanging. It's hidden just a little bit. And I was sitting on the bank there doing a little fishing and my cousin Barbara Ann walked up. >> Hey Connie Sue What you doing, honey? >> Well, I'm fishing. >> Fishing? I don't see a pole. >> Nope. Don't need one. >> I don't see a line or a hook or anything. >> Nope, don't need one. >> You ain't got that, how are you fishing? >> I got me this here plug of chewing tobacco. And what I do is I just break some off and I sprinkle it out over that water. Those fish come right up to the surface, grab some of that chewing tobacco and dive back down into the water. >> I still don't see how that's fishing. >> Well, those fish, they got to come up to spit. When they do, I got me a big stick. And I just hit them over the head. >> Have you caught very many that way? >> Well, just the other day I caught me a 10-pound minnow. >> Uh-huh, well I'll tell you about my fishing adventure then, Connie Sue. You know, I was out in evening time, going to be doing some shrimping in Pop's rowboat. And I had his lantern there, right there. And I'm out there and I took one of those weights and put it in my mouth to cast out the net to catch me some shrimp. And when I did it, it knocked Pop's lantern right off and down into that water. >> Ooh, I'm sure Pop wasn't too pleased about that. >> Not a talk, but let me finish the story. Let me tell you what happened. I was out there just yesterday with a pole and a line and a hook. And I hooked up that self-same lantern. >> I heard of that kind of thing happening before with boots and all. >> Yeah, but Connie Sue, this lantern was still lit. >> Barbara Ann, I'll take nine and three-quarter pounds off that minnow if you'll at least blow out that lantern. [Blows]. [ Applause ] >> Thank you. I think that's good. >> Yeah. >> Thank you so much. >> Thank you. >> Yay. [ Applause ] >> Thank you, thank you. >> This has been a presentation of the Library of Congress. Visit us at LOC.gov.