The story is always better in the telling. I've heard that expression used many times and have come to agree with it's conclusion. Stories are better in the telling, or the writing, as far as that goes. I believe that is because you must include the little details and nuances that otherwise may have been missed. The art of storytelling lies in being able to communicate those small details. When you can create a connection between the teller and the listener it becomes a good story. When the listener feels the story, it is great.
Growing up I always enjoyed listening to the stories of the old timers. The daily "carrying on" of what we called the local characters was of special interest. By today's standard it would border on bullying but not back then, it was just good natured fun. The same tales of misadventures and just plain silly things these characters had done was a source of amusement. It was not unusual for the person being talked about to jump in and refute the story altogether.That was like a bonus when that happened. These "stories" are the stuff of legends ! For what is legendary started in truth and grew to that stature. Some may say the story was embellished but I would disagree, I would say details and nuance were included.
It is true that many of the tales I heard would be of little interest to others. Those tales were pretty specific to the time and place. I knew the cast of characters well, some in the flesh and others solely by reputation. These " recounting of the facts " wouldn't hold any amusement to those unaware of the cast. It would take a book to fully explain the background to the setting. The majority of the characters were fisherman and common laborers and reflect their station in society. Oh, I heard tales of the powerful as well, but those stories were told in hushed tones so as not to attract those same powers. The settings for these stories would also require explanation, places like Maggie's, Jungle Pete's or maybe down to Damark's store. We could be talking about being at the harbor or over to Hand's creek, not just places, but settings. Why as a baby I lived in a house on stilts down to Lazy point. We had to sit in the car during the hurricane for fear the house would blow over ! I don't remember that personally but heard the tale many times and even saw the house once. Yes, it survived the storm. I could write the story and it would only be a repetition of what I heard, a legend if you will. It is a legendary tale, To Mom it is just a story. As far as I know I have no legendary tales of my own to tell. No great acts of heroism or gigantic blunders to amuse. I have a few anecdotes, as do we all, but nothing legendary. The best anecdotes always begin with the preface, " this is a true story. "
Now, this is a true story. When I was in high school I was known to always be hanging out with one other person in particular. We were, and are, best friends. We did most everything together. It was a rare occasion to see one without the other. At least that was the perception that some had of us. They were the ones that didn't know us all that well. We traveled in our own little circle along with everyone else. You know the little cliques and clubs of teenagers. Following graduation we even joined the Navy together. It had been some time since we were " home " and my friend and I walked into the bowling alley. The bowling alley was a legendary place in it's own right. It housed a bar as well as the lanes. Pool tables were available outside the bar as well. All the cool kids hung out there. Legend says Paul Mccartney once tended the bar there. Yes, that Paul McCartney. Some of them even bowled, but it was the social hub at the time for a certain class of folks. Now this would have been about 1972 or '73. The social climate was quite a bit different then, it was especially so in this environment. So, my friend and I come sauntering in and there behind the counter is a young lady we went to school with. We'll say her name was Barbara, but it could have been Joan. At any rate, we strike up a conversation with her. We are talking about the old days in school, the old days being a year or two ago at this point. We are both in Uniform and I begin to sense some " interest " on her part, if you catch my drift. She then says, I remember you guys always being together in school. Looking straight at me she says, are you married ? Without missing a beat I answer, while reaching over and taking my friends hand, no, we are just living together. The look on her face was priceless ! Remember this was at a time when such things were not mentioned ! The shock value was worth it. Of course I quickly made it known that I was only joking, repeatedly. I think I even made some crude innuendos to reinforce my heterosexual preferences. Now that is a true story. I hope the story doesn't become distorted ! The thing is I don't get to form the legend, only the story.
Growing up I always enjoyed listening to the stories of the old timers. The daily "carrying on" of what we called the local characters was of special interest. By today's standard it would border on bullying but not back then, it was just good natured fun. The same tales of misadventures and just plain silly things these characters had done was a source of amusement. It was not unusual for the person being talked about to jump in and refute the story altogether.That was like a bonus when that happened. These "stories" are the stuff of legends ! For what is legendary started in truth and grew to that stature. Some may say the story was embellished but I would disagree, I would say details and nuance were included.
It is true that many of the tales I heard would be of little interest to others. Those tales were pretty specific to the time and place. I knew the cast of characters well, some in the flesh and others solely by reputation. These " recounting of the facts " wouldn't hold any amusement to those unaware of the cast. It would take a book to fully explain the background to the setting. The majority of the characters were fisherman and common laborers and reflect their station in society. Oh, I heard tales of the powerful as well, but those stories were told in hushed tones so as not to attract those same powers. The settings for these stories would also require explanation, places like Maggie's, Jungle Pete's or maybe down to Damark's store. We could be talking about being at the harbor or over to Hand's creek, not just places, but settings. Why as a baby I lived in a house on stilts down to Lazy point. We had to sit in the car during the hurricane for fear the house would blow over ! I don't remember that personally but heard the tale many times and even saw the house once. Yes, it survived the storm. I could write the story and it would only be a repetition of what I heard, a legend if you will. It is a legendary tale, To Mom it is just a story. As far as I know I have no legendary tales of my own to tell. No great acts of heroism or gigantic blunders to amuse. I have a few anecdotes, as do we all, but nothing legendary. The best anecdotes always begin with the preface, " this is a true story. "
Now, this is a true story. When I was in high school I was known to always be hanging out with one other person in particular. We were, and are, best friends. We did most everything together. It was a rare occasion to see one without the other. At least that was the perception that some had of us. They were the ones that didn't know us all that well. We traveled in our own little circle along with everyone else. You know the little cliques and clubs of teenagers. Following graduation we even joined the Navy together. It had been some time since we were " home " and my friend and I walked into the bowling alley. The bowling alley was a legendary place in it's own right. It housed a bar as well as the lanes. Pool tables were available outside the bar as well. All the cool kids hung out there. Legend says Paul Mccartney once tended the bar there. Yes, that Paul McCartney. Some of them even bowled, but it was the social hub at the time for a certain class of folks. Now this would have been about 1972 or '73. The social climate was quite a bit different then, it was especially so in this environment. So, my friend and I come sauntering in and there behind the counter is a young lady we went to school with. We'll say her name was Barbara, but it could have been Joan. At any rate, we strike up a conversation with her. We are talking about the old days in school, the old days being a year or two ago at this point. We are both in Uniform and I begin to sense some " interest " on her part, if you catch my drift. She then says, I remember you guys always being together in school. Looking straight at me she says, are you married ? Without missing a beat I answer, while reaching over and taking my friends hand, no, we are just living together. The look on her face was priceless ! Remember this was at a time when such things were not mentioned ! The shock value was worth it. Of course I quickly made it known that I was only joking, repeatedly. I think I even made some crude innuendos to reinforce my heterosexual preferences. Now that is a true story. I hope the story doesn't become distorted ! The thing is I don't get to form the legend, only the story.
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