The Making of a Storyteller ( Part 2 )

Looking back now, I think it would be safe to say that Robinson Cursoe was an ambitious book for a ten/eleven year old to attempt. However, when the book was finally finished there was a feeling of great accomplishment. Completing that book gave me the confidence to read other books. Most of the books will never be measured against Defoe’s tale, but each had its own value. If for no other reason, they provided entertainment.

The library of Griffithsville Elementary School was no public library, but it did offer a wealth of reading opportunities for its students. Many of which I read or at the very least perused well enough to decide not to read. Among the books that entertained me were Between Planets, Red Planet, and Space Cadet. These books were written by Robert Heinlein a noted master in the realm of science fiction.

Another writer I enjoyed reading was Curtis Kent Bishop. He wrote sport stories dealing with football, baseball, and basketball. Two of those three interested me and I learned if the book had his name on it, it was worthy of reading. One of his books – Lank of the Little League – is still with me as a fond memory. That either speaks positively for my memory, the quality of his writing, or both.

The first book I ever read more than once was Sabre Jet Ace written by Charles Ira Combs. This book is the story of Joseph C. McConnell a fighter pilot in the Korean War. He was the first triple ace jet fighter pilot. I think I enjoyed this book the second time I read it as much as I did the first. Once again, I can thank my mother for this joy. Having told her I couldn’t find anything at the library  I hadn’t already read, she suggested I reread a book that I previously enjoyed. Hesitant at first, I soon realized really good stories can be read and reread over and over. Thanks again mom.

But reading isn’t the only thing that played into my love of telling stories. During my time in grade school and later high school, I was blessed with the task of being one of the first students to arrive at the school every day. In those days in the sixties, when students arrived at school, they entered their classrooms and found something to occupy ourselves with until the beginning of school. On many occasions, we would gather to talk about what was on TV the previous night.

“Did you see Gunsmoke last night?” I might ask one of my classmates.

“No, what was it about?”

That was all it took to launch me into a detailed oral reconstruction of the entire show. I felt I needed to speak to every lift of a hat, every order of whiskey, or every draw of a gun. To tell of the goings-on’s of an hour TV show took time. But somehow I finished before class started. On the rare occasions when I didn’t there was recess to complete the telling.

Almost always before I finished I had a gathering of nearly a dozen fellow students standing around my desk hanging on my every word and detail. I must have done a good job conveying the story, because I was soon being requested to recount other shows I’d seen the night before. More than once I had friends tell me they didn’t need to watch a show they just needed to make sure I did. That way, I could recount everything to them the next day. That was okay by me.

When next we meet part 3. Until then happy reading. : )