Today, as a reward for my diligence,


I treated myself to a walk downtown for the Summertime Blues Festival performance. I had spent hours at the computer - not blogging, not on Twitter - but writing. By five o'clock, the temperature outside was beginning to come down, and a walk sounded like a good idea. I got to Diana Krall Square just as the music started, but then there was a bit of delay after all, so I wandered into the library to amuse myself. Right away, I saw a poster advertising an event that I couldn't resist - a (free!) evening of storytelling at Theatre One called

"A World Full of Story" With the Around Town Tellers.

There was only one problem. The event was scheduled to start at 7 p.m. I was a 45-minute walk from home. I couldn't just stay downtown and take in both events, because (a) I hadn't eaten yet! and (b) I didn't want to walk home after dark. I needed a car.

I checked my clock. It was 5:35. I cast one last look at the band, which had started playing again, and I set off for home. I wanted to hear the concert, but I'm afraid that if the choice is between blues and words, words will win, hands down. If the concert had been, say, chamber music, the choice would have been harder.

Off I went, then, up Bastion Street, down Wesley - where I snapped a photo of the lovely mural that graces the corner, to my house (6:20 arrival). I grabbed a car and drove to the closest supermarket. I bought a Weight Watchers dinner, took it home (6:35), tossed it in the microwave, and ran for the shower. Five minutes later, I was clean, dry, and eating my dinner. Five minutes after that, I was out the door. It wasn't great for my digestion, but I didn't care. I arrived at Theatre One a little bit late. The first storyteller was just beginning to speak. Rather than interrupt her story, I sat on the steps at the back of the theatre and listened from there. When she finished her story, the tale of a young woman who cheats Death by selling her words, I sneaked in and sat down in a proper chair. I never found out the name of that storyteller. Actually, the only name I got all evening was that of Terry Mack, who played one of her Native American-style flutes between stories. During the tea break, I asked Terry's permission to photograph the flutes (and her), and she graciously gave me her card. She sells the instruments through her company, Peaceful Spirit Flutes. They are truly beautiful.

The next storyteller told a story from the Talmud. Then came a memoir of a childhood in France - and a recitation of two Robert Service poems, "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" and "The Cremation of Sam McGee". There was an Egyptian story about a hippopotamus who fell in love with the Pharaoh's daughter, and a Korean story about a very clever thief.All the storytellers came up to take a bow at the end of the show.

I think my diligence was well rewarded. I had a great time tonight, as did the entire audience and the storytellers themselves.