Off to Williamsburg

Jim and I are driving to Williamsburg this morning for the Williamsburg Storytelling Festival.

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! The stories will soon begin.

We are looking forward to family time.

And to seeing storyteller friends like
Diane Macklin who is also a regional teller this year.

I am really looking forward to telling with Diane in the "Famiily Stories" line up Saturday night.

Today my head is filled with my stories. Like always I am psyched. I am excited . I am nervous.

Jim says, "Relax. Have fun. Your storytelling is best - when you are loving the audience."

Yes.

I have my camera in my pocket so I will be taking lots of pictures of the festival and no doubt of the town - where the images take you back in time.


History Note:

I was checking something out in Wm. S. Powell's NC history book -then just randomly flipping through. I stopped to read a few paragraphs about how women won the vote in NC.

The upshot of it is - they didn't. They piggy-backed on more enlightened states.

In 1920 when the struggle to ratify the 19th Amendment was going on - state after approved the amendment. The women in NC lobbied and probably begged for their State Legislature to ratify and give them the right to vote but those men refused and disappointed the women of NC. What did they expect - the first time the issue was presented in the NC Legislature it was referred to the Committee for the Insane.

Dispite a petition against it sent to them from NC - Tennessee ratified - giving the margin of states necessary to pass the amendment and change the Constitution. August 26, 1920 - women in the United States were granted the right to vote.

In 1971 North Carolina finally ratified the 19th Amendment.

Hmm. I love my home state but I am not proud of that bit of history.

Ducks in a Row

Might as well admit it. I spend a lot of time trying to "get my ducks in a row."

I was sitting in a meeting.

The woman said:
"I spent my whole life getting my ducks in order - then I found out they weren't MY ducks."

I laughed.

Then I started thinking about it.

OOPS.

Life would be simpler if I remember to make sure the ducks belong to me before I start getting them in order. Hmmmmm.

Political Rant - Be Warned

Nothing like a major shift in centuries - but I can't resist showing you these shoes.

This photo, taken near Norfolk, was mixed in with my Williamsburg photos. Boy is it out of place - stirs things up.

They stir me up enough to tell you what I am thinking. It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me well - and that includes my history as a feminist activist. I have not introduced politics onto this blog - and probably will not again - but I am weakening today.

These shoes make me think of Sarah Palin - I guess because she is on my mind. I have been ranting about her all day. The final straw came when I went in to film my TV show, Stories in Time, and a guy in the studio and I had a charged - civil and friendly but charged- conversation about the current election.

We recognized the vast chasm between us - - in the way we see Palin as a candiate for Vice President of the United States.

He countered - I like her - she is a Hot Chick. He was not kidding or baiting me - that's how he feels.

Do you see that breaking the glass ceiling? I mean that is where women have been through out history. Its the Playboy standard.

I finally asked him. "How old is your daughter?"

"Nine," he says.

" Well every time you look at her ask yourself - how do you want her capabilities to be evaluated - by her boobs or her brains?"

He tossed that aside.

Its not a silly question. Think about it, for your self, your daughters, your grand-daughters, your neices and all those other girls and women who have ideas and ambitions and dreams. Sarah Palin is not there because she worked for it or dreamed it - she is there because some man called her and yanked her onto the stage to help him be President. The scary part is that he is an older and physically vulnerable man - which means she could end up President. Do you sleep well with that idea?

I wish I could be more profound.

I wish I could speak right to the issues - but are we blind? Can't we see what's happening?

The old guy has run in a "hot chick" to help him out.

Oops. Sorry. That was not nice. To speak ill of another woman. I am a feminist. We all think alike and will fall in line behind any woman who is moving up.

Let me tell you something - there is too much at stake - the cost is too high to be nice - and to keep silent. And to vote for an unqualified person - woman or not - for the second highest office in the country.

I would rather have Tina Fey - at least she knows its a joke.

Williamsburg and Family Ties

Thinking about Williamsburg.

We are going on Thursday - - that's five days from now.

I am looking forward to listening to all the stories at the Williamsburg Storytelling Festival - - and to telling stories myself -

and there are other pluses for being in Colonial Williamsburg.

When you step onto the lanes of the old town you step back in time. I love the presence of the history in the buildings,
and the presence of the costumed re-enactors - but most of all the the quiet that prevades a walkable town with no cars.

For the past three years our family has made the Williamsburg Sorytelling Festival a September destination. Our son, his wife and their two daughters, and our Maryland daughter share it with Jim and me. Its great - - and would be even better if our California daughter and her family were here too.

We have a storehouse of family stories
about trips to Colonial Wiliamsburg. Those stories start with the school trips our kids made in the 60s and 70s - a Williamsburg field trip is a highly anticipated part of the Maryland elementary curriculum.

Our memory book includes week-end get-aways with the family as well as Christmas 2005
when our entire family spent Christmas week in Williamsburg to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.

Yep - its a special place for us. A tourist site that has become more for our family.

When we visit Williamsburg its warm and familiar - it is like sitting around the table at Thanksgiving - pulling out stories - reminding ourselves of some very happy times - feeling the ties that bind us together.

Life is a Verb Interview with Patti Digh

Saluting Patti.


Patti Digh's work on 37 Days has enriched all the folks who follow her blog and join me in celebrating her new book, Life is a Verb. For the book Patti has selected 37 essays from her blog and arranged them in chapters which set a path to living a life with intention. In each chapter you will find questions, prompts and challenges as aids for your life journey.

The book is beautifully complemented with art work from artists around the world and poetry.

Three years ago I stumbled upon 37 Days and reading Patti's essays became an important part of every week for me. I was drawn to her essays by her storytelling and her writing. Then I realized that there was so much more to what she was saying. The way she was observing her life every day and connecting it to a deeper meaning resonated with me and my own work as a storyteller. Absorbing her ideas about commitment to intention has changed my life and enriched my storytelling.

Speaking of storytelling, I am telling stories at the Willliamsburg Storytelling Festival in Williamsburg, VA September 20 and 21. Since the world is driven by serendipity what do you bet there will be other 37 Days followers in the tents.

If you see this and are also at that Festival please tap me on the shoulder. I would like to meet you. And, if you are reading Life is a Verb between story-sets we can take a picture and send it to Patti.

Now to the feature event - the interview with Patti .

Yes, the interview is about Patti's new book, Life is a Verb, however I decided to focus these questions on the author, her intention and process for her writing and to wind up with a question about what's on the horizon for her. I am not surprisesd to find that Patti has a few things brewing.




Ellouise: On YouTube Ira Glass talks about the importance of the moment of reflection to a story - something that gives the anecdote deeper meaning. What’s your feeling about that?
Patti: I think he has just described the real meaning and thrust of 37days. It isn’t these stories about my daily life or the trips I’ve taken or the people I’ve been privileged to meet—it’s about sitting back to ponder the meaning of that interchange, the deeper metaphoric meaning to even the smallest of events—and perhaps, if I’ve done a good job in telling the story and delving into that metaphor—the deeper meaning for other people too.

I consciously end each essay with a challenge because 37days was intended to be an instruction manual for living for my two girls. Those challenges open up the path for readers to apply the lesson I’ve gained from each story to their own lives. Or at least that’s my hope.
Ellouise: Which essay touches you most deeply?
Patti: It’s hard to pick one, I must admit. There are some that were more difficult to write—“Unpack your bags” is an example of that. Some are examples of very big “a-ha’s” in my life, like “Say hi to Yaron” and “Burn your jeans.” All are such a part of my life and touch me for very different reasons.
Ellouise: Why or how did you choose blogging as the form for writing your legacy for your daughters?

Patti: I started writing an essay each Monday in a Word document, then emailing it out. On January 3, 2005, I sent the first one to 12 friends and said I’d be doing one every Monday if they wanted to receive it. It was a way of holding myself accountable for actually doing it. They all said yes, then evidently sent the essays to others, who sent them to others, until after just a few months I had over 15,000 readers who requested to be on the email list. It got to be too much for me to handle and I thought posting to a blog would be an easier alternative! So, it was a decision solely based on my lack of technical knowledge about how to maintain such a big mailing list!
Ellouise: Is there anything about your blog writing process that you don’t think people understand or do you have a suggestion for other bloggers to improve their blog writing?

Patti: Because I didn’t see myself as a blogger, really, I didn’t pay attention to any of the “rules of thumb” about the length of blog posts or how many times you should post to build a readership. If I had paid attention, 37days would look and feel quite different.

For the first two years, I religiously followed a particular formula, one that defied the “short is better” and “post often” rules. My essays were stories, not posts, and they were usually 1,500 to 2,000 words, not 350-500 words. So the people who started reading 37days were an unusual bunch to stick around through such long essays! I posted only once a week, on Mondays, so there wasn’t a lot of action on the blog, either. But that gave me a whole week to really hone each essay and make it writerly and beautiful, as opposed to quick.

I’m not sure that my formula is right for everyone, but that’s what I did—and what I want to get back to.
Ellouise: At what point did you realize your blog writings were a book?

Patti: I actually wasn’t the person who figured that out! A woman named Nikki Hardin contacted me after reading 37days for a while and asked if she could reprint one of the essays in her magazine. Nikki is the editor of Skirt! magazine, based in Charleston and printed in cities across the U.S.

After printing a few stories in Skirt!, she asked if I would be interested in publishing a book based on 37days for the new Skirt! Books imprint being started by Globe Pequot Press. So it was Nikki who first saw the inklings of a book in the pages of the blog, not me!
Ellouise: What has this three years taught you about your self that was most unexpected?

Patti: Without a doubt, this is my biggest learning: The power of a single intention.

I didn’t start writing 37days to get a lot of readers or to publish a book. I didn’t start writing the blog to win awards or get speaking engagements or be among the “cool” blogger set. I started writing it with a deep sense of urgency to capture my stories for my daughters.

My business partner, David, is a theater director. One of the first things he teaches young actors is that you can’t play two intentions at the same time on stage. I think the same is true in life.

If I had been writing to gain an audience, I don’t think the blog would have had the same intensity and clarity of purpose. I would have been working from split intentions. I had a longing to say something, not a longing to “build brand” or “build a readership” or all the buzz words that people use when talking about blogs. I needed to say something—and the gifts that have come back to me because of that single intention have been overwhelming. Not in terms of material things at all (think: starving artist), but in terms of relationships and connections with extraordinary people all over the world, telling me their stories, connecting with me in ways I never knew possible.Ellouise: What’s next for you - any projects you can talk about?

Patti: I’m finalizing a proposal for a follow-up book to LIFE IS A VERB—another 37 essays about living more mindfully—and am open to suggestions on a great title!

I’m also working with my business and creative partner, David Robinson, on two book projects—one, an application of LIFE IS A VERB to the business world, tentatively entitled, “TOAST RULES: Fifty Ways to Burn Yourself and Your Company.” The other is a children’s book called “Kichom and Fucchi: Wisdom Tales from the Smallest of Teachers,” based on a story told me by my friend Kichom from Tokyo about a small bug from whom he learned big lessons.

David and I—along with my husband, John Ptak—are also working on a symphonic project that will combine music, narrative, and art to explore what it is to be “removed” from your place on the earth—like the Cherokee who marched on the Trail of Tears, or the Japanese who were sent away to camps in the desert, or the victims of Hurricane Katrina. It is called “The Taken,” and should premiere with the Portland Symphony Orchestra in 2010.

Post Script:Last week I sent Patti an email which I think belongs with this post.

We were talking about books which have changed your life. The first one I mentioned to her was a book that set my intention so far as a lot of my storytelling goes.

"The second was the 37 days blog - three years ago - your search on 37 Days touched me as few things have - spoke to something I needed to look at - and along the way helped me to really be present with my mother in her illness, dying and death. Particularly the tender and loving posts about your young friend, Meta, and her mother when both died."

I expect that Life is a Verb is going to be a similar companion to people - open them to the richness and gifts of living with intention in the everyday. It is a book that will change lives.

Thanks, Patti.

Thinking About Next Week

Thinking about my calendar and all the good things coming up.






TOMORROW I will post the Life is a Verb interview with Patti Digh.




Only six more days til I leave for the Williamsburg Storytelling Festival.

Thinking about what stories I might tell.
And about seeing friends.

Seeing friends like storyteller Diane Macklin. Diane and I met a few years back when we told together with a small group of tellers, In Our Own Voices, in Washington, DC. We told stories together at the Art Barn, Rock Creek Park, local churches and art galleries. I enjoyed telling with her again last June at the Washington Folklore Festival at Glen Echo Park, MD. She is a terrific teller who reaches out and draws the audience into her stories and touches their hearts.

And Rich Knoblich. Rich and I told stories together last October at the Autumn Glory Tall Tales Festival in Oakland, MD. He writes and tells very funny stories. Our family discovered his stories at the West Virginia Storytelling Festival, could it be nine years ago, and we still laugh when we talk about his Viking Funeral story.

Milbre Burch is a headliner for this festival. This is a woman who can tell a story and give it a very special touch. She led me to storytelling and I don't even know her. More than ten years ago I heard Milbre Burch tell stories at the Washington Storytellers Theater. It was serendipty that Jim and I were even in the audience. She told a very moving story about her father. An epiphany. I squeezed Jim's arm. "I am doing that," I said.

Her story showed me the way that I could and would use to tell family stories so that my target audience, our adult children, would listen to the begats and family history I was finding through genealogy. It worked. I tell people I came to storytelling as a subversive activity. And found myself in stories and storytelling.



The Silver Screen
Movies from the 1930s are always a big draw for me.
Last night I watched a 1935 black and white movie on TCM - I forget the title - with Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler. It is a charming film with music and a predictable plot. Ruby Keeler wore lovely flowing dresses which draped so beautifully on her body and Powell was sweetly handsome . Do you remember his romantic songs and her snappy tap dancing. There is such an innocence and freshness in the characters that they are appealing even when they are sappy. The steadiness of the father - played by the same man who always played Judge Hardy in the Andy Hardy movie is reassuring. And, I don't know about you, but I really appreciate the flickering "silver screen" of black and white movies.

Mama was a senior at Charlotte Central High School when this movie came out. She probably saw it at the grand Carolina Theater on Tryon Street. I feel safe in saying she saw it because she told me Ruby Keeler and Dick Powell were two of her favorite stars. Do you suppose she and her friends danced down the stairs from the balcony after the film was over? There was a bunch of other stuff I should have been doing but I am glad I stopped and watched the movie.

Seven Days Until Williamsburg

This afternoon I was talking with Robin and she asked me, " When do you go to Williamsburg?" I looked at the calendar. My head snapped back, my heart jumped a beat

" Next Thursday.
That's seven days.
Seven days until we leave for Williamsburg."


The tents will be up on the greens behind Basset Hall just a few blocks from the main street of Colonial Williamsburg.

This will be our fourth year attending the Williamsburg Storytelling Festival.

Donald Davis will be returning to tell
his wonderful stories along with seven over national storytellers. (see website)
Milbre Burch, Gayle Ross, Valierie Tutson, Bobby Norfolk, Susan Klein, Syd Lieberman, and Waddie Mitchell.


This year the storyteller line-up also includes four regional tellers and four Colonial Willimasburg tellers. (see website)


I am happy to be invited as a regional teller and to be a part of this festival which is special for the storytelling programs and for its setting.

On Saturday September 20 (12:30 pm - 1:30 pm) I am paired with the marvelous, Colonial Williamsburg storyteller, Art Johnson, for an hour of stories - each of us telling for thirty minutes. I have heard him tell stories a number of times and really admire his work and enjoy his stories. Will be great to work with him.

Saturday evening I will be part of the "Family Stories" line-up which features Susan Klein, Tracey Turner, Sharon Rogers, Waddie Mitchell, Diane Macklin and Bobbie Norfolk.

Sunday, September 21, The four regional tellers, Rich Knoblich, Diane Macklin, Kim Weitkamp and Ellouise Schoettler, will tell stories together between 12:30 p.m. and 1:30 p.m.

And lets not forget - listening to all those great stories in-between. What a week-end.

Seven days until Williamsburg.

Any chance any of you will be there?. if you are - please tap me on the shoulder - I would love to see you.

No Magic in Colorful Boots

when
you wear
colorful boots
to slog through muck

its still
muck

grief
comes in waves
out of no where
washing over me

remember the joy
of splashing
in puddles

slapping slapping slapping

small feet
stirring up
noisy waves

big feet
should make huge waves

but the water is too heavy

it won't move

even colorful boots
can't
move
it

they
are
stuck

I collect images of shoes. This morning I played with this picture of boots thinking I would post a happy image and give my grieving a rest. Out popped this poem. Nutty as it is - my connecting things - its what I do and it helps me.

The boots are a photo I took yesterday when I went to Pyramid Atlantic to meet with Adjoa about our new class. I love Gretchen's collection of boots that the artists wear when they are making paper and sloshing across the wet floors in the paper mill. It was a good time. I felt happy - looking forward to the class - its challenging and we expect to work with a highly motivated group of middle school students twice a week until December. All is good.

On the way home I called Robin. She was at lunch with her friend Kay so we could not talk. I know. I know. I should not be driving and talking on the phone. Old habits die hard.

Holding the phone - my new burgundy cell phone - I thought of Mama. I often called her from the car - a quick hello on the way home. And it swept over me.

I can't call Mama.

My primary contact with my mother for the past 53 years has been the telephone. I can't call her. Missing her washed over me. I started crying - not a great thing in Washington, DC rush hour traffic.

To heck with it. I called Betsy in PA. She answered.


"Betsy, I can't call Mama."

" Oh, God, you're there!"

" What will I do?"

" Feel it. That's what you need to do. It will pass off - for now."

We talked. It got a bit better. For now.

" I am glad you called me, Ellouise."

I wrote to someone recently - friends are the glue that holds us together.

September 14 - Life is a Verb Interview Here

Have you wondered what the Life is a Verb Blog Roll sticker on my blog is all about?

Life is a Verb, the new book by Patti Digh, was released September 2. As part of the launch a group of blogs are publishing interviews with Patti. I am delighted to be one of them and will post our exchange HERE on September 14.

Initially I planned to interview Patti by phone but the evening we had scheduled our talk I was in the car racing to NC. So we went to Plan B. I sent her questions about the book, her process and her future plans from my cell phone and she responded several days later. I do love technology.

Based on Patti's question - what would you do if you had 37 Days to live - - this book is a collection of meaningingful essays from her blog 37 Days enriched with questions and challenges. Its a powerful tool to help someone work out their way for living with intention.

Almost three years ago I discovered Patti and her blog and felt touched by and connected to her writing and her life-view. Reading 37 Days became an important part of my week. Jim and I attended her first Life is a Verb retreat in Asheville, NC. It was a great week-end and I can tell you Life is a Verb is a work by a woman of depth, sensitivity, warmth and strength.

I am very proud to have these two pieces of my art work in the book.

Counting My Blessings

Mama used to say - "if Ellouise answers the phone, there could be blood on the floor and she will tell you everything is fine."

My cousin Jim called, "How are you Ellouise? I am worried about you."
"I am fine." I assured him.

Ok. So I am not fine - but I am starting to pick up pieces I dropped when my sister Dena called and said that Mama was "going" and Jim and I rushed to NC. You know the story from there.

I am counting my blessings.

While the sky was falling some good things have been happening:



My two new cds arrived.

Second Hand Rose - original and family stories.

The jacket reads - a southern storyteller weaves tales of second hand clothes, intriguing thrift shops, sibling rivalry, revenge, quilts, and mother-love in a salute to family ties.

The stories were recorded in performance at Strathmore Hall Arts Center, April 2007


Vigilanteoff-beat original stories written and told by E.S.

Recorded LIVE at Speakeasydc, Washington, DC
2005 - 2008
They will be on sale at Williamsburg Storytelling
Festival - and ofcourse I have them.
Directly from me - you save $2.00
$13.00 plus a $3.00 handling fee.

The prospect of telling stories at the Williamsburg Storytelling Festival is really exciting. I am grateful for the opportunity, the pressure and the focus right now. Especially with suc a terrific line-up of feature-tellers and working with three friends in the regional line-up - Rich Knoblich, Diane Macklin, and Kim Weitkamp.


Starting next week I wll be team teaching with artist/author Adjoa Burrowes
on a new ten week workshop at Pyramid Atlantic.
We had a good time last year and the kids were fun. I am looking forward to it. And very grateful to WORK!

And to take time to eat.


Jim and I shared my favorite sandwich - lox and cream cheese with onions and tomato on an onion bagel - yesterday at Einsteins. Can't you taste it?

And very grateful to have the blessing of an irrepressible friend who helps me to switch my paradigms.

Holly wrote:
I am so happy for you that you had your mother in your life for so long - and that you got to be there with her to wish her BON VOYAGE.

Thanks.

Mama Makes a New Story

After Daddy died Mama was so overwhelmed with grief that we wondered how she would remake a life without him. Then an "angel" entered the scene. Father Paul Gary came to St. Patrick's and he reached out to Mama - asking her to become an active volunteer - as Sacristan at the noon daily Mass and to work in the office.

Again she was wanted, expected, needed. She bloomed as a member of the "amazing grays."

Mama and Father Gary continued their friendship even after she moved to Concord Place some 25 miles away. He and another member of St. Patricks visited her shortly before she died.

Father Gary spoke of his last visit with her during his Homily at her funeral Mass. He recounted the story Mama told him of how she met Daddy at St. Patrick's Cathedral and fell in love with him there. It was a beautiful story, very touching and sweet - exactly the way Mama would have wanted it. Except for one thing - it was a fantasy - another of the stories she created during the last months of her life.
Complete storyteller truth.

I loved it! Brava, Mama! Tell it like you wanted it to be.

Driving home I called Mama's sister. I told the new story to her. She was quiet. I could almost hear the puzzled look on her face. " Ellouise, that's not how I remember it."

"I know Punny. That's not how it happened. Mama rewrote the story."

This is the way Mama told the story to me - many times.

Her friend Louise Bouvey
introduced them on a blind date. Daddy was so good-looking that Mama was smitten right away but when he called for a second date she turned him down - playing a bit hard-to-get. Her tactic worked. He called back and she agreed to go out with him.

Several months later they eloped to York SC. Morgan Heath and his wife Ruby drove them down to York and stood up with them.

Punny spoke up. "I remember that night (Punny was about 9 years old). Robert and your mother came back to the house about nine p.m. to tell Mother and Daddy. Louie told Daddy first. And when she told Mother - it was a shock - but Mother's first response was -

Louie you have married into a staunch Catholic family and the first thing you two have to do is go to St. Peter's and make things right with the Catholic Church." (Mama was a Methodist. Granny had worked with Daddy's great-aunt Annie Grose and knew the family and their connection to the Church.)

First they were married in June by the Justice of the Peace in York, SC then they were married in the front room of the rectory at St. Peter's on July 6,1935. That same rectory still stands next to St. Peter's on Tryon Street.

Punny added. "And poor Robert was really frustrated because your mother would not live with him until they were married in the Catholic Church."


This is Mama's favorite picture of them - it was taken at Wrightsville Beach, NC in late August, 1936 - six weeks after I was born.

One of the first lessons I learned when I began working with genealogy was - don't believe the first version of a story and try to talk to an eye-witness if its possible.

I guess another thing to add is to watch out for storytellers.

Journey Home

We left Charlotte yesterday about 10 am worried about the weather. The reports on Hurricane Hanna heading north were daunting since we were headed right for it. Then a news report put up a map that showed the heavy rain and winds mostly along the I-85 and I 95 corridor toward Washington. We changed plans and took I-77 to I 81 over Fancy Gap and through the Shenandoah Valley. Clear skies and dry roads all the way.

Not so clear and dry inside the car. I don't usually ride up the road sitting in the back seat sobbing but that's how it was. Finally grief rolled over me and I could not stop crying. Fortunately Karen was with us so that she could share the driving with Jim because I could not take but one turn.

Since last week I have been trying to wear my best face and act like Mama's Big Girl and all that fell away today. I received an email from Patti on my cell asking "how are you" and I wrote back, "sitting in the back seat of our car sobbing." Right away my cell phone beeped and she answered, "sobbing is good. sobbing is necessary."

My friend Elizabeth first called me on this Mama's Big Girl tendency of mine some months ago when we were working on a story. She wrote to me - "make room to grieve, Ellouise."

I guess grief is making sure I pay attention to Elizabeth's advice. It has come calling and it isn't moving on.

Memories are crowding my thoughts - memories mostly of when Mama and Daddy were young and beautiful and hopeful. As the oldest I have many of those and I love them.
Its the stuff of story. I think I will stay with those for awhile.

And share them.

I called my aunt, mama's sister from the car. Lovely to hear her voice and tell her about the service. And to laugh with her. I told her a story - a new story - and we both laughed and I felt close to her and through her to Mama and Granny.

I will tell you that story tomorrow.

Today - I am not laughing.

Three weeks ago when I was with Mama she asked me, " you are going home tomorrow?"
"No, Mama, I am going home now."
She looked at me intently. Quiet. Then, " Ellouise, that's just the pits."
I replied, "yes, Mama, it is the pits."

I was wrong. This is the pits.

Mama's Eulogy

(When our son Jim was asked to deliver Mama's Eulogy he invited all of us, Jim, Karen, Robin, me, his wife Monica and his daughers Juliana and Alison to participate with memories, comments and edits. In a labor of love each of us touched these words with love and he delivered it beautifully - our gift to Mama and the family.)

In Loving Memory of

Louise Keasler Diggle


September 5, 2008
St. Patrick’s Cathedral
Charlotte, NC


I am grateful to be asked to speak for the family today about our mother, grandmother, great grandmother, sister, aunt and friend, Louise Keasler Diggle.

I once heard storyteller Donald Davis say that every living thing dies for a reason. Either they are too sick to get better or too hurt to get well or – if they are really, really lucky – they are just too old to go on.

Louise Diggle lived a long 92 years. Today, we gather to honor her life and her importance in the continuity of our family and our community.



Let me begin by saying that, while I know that many of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren have different names for her, I have always known Louise Diggle, my grandmother, as Lulu. It sounds a bit silly for a fifty plus year old man to call her Lulu in public, but that’s what she is to me. I have never known her by any other name, and so Lulu it was and Lulu it will always be to me.

In Psalm 128 it says –

“May the Lord bless you … and may you live to see your children’s children. Lulu was greatly blessed. She lived to see not only grandchildren but also great grandchildren.”

Lulu was very proud of her family and of being a faith-filled bridge – connecting her past with our future.

As I look out upon all of your faces – you magically mirror her past, our present and the future.
I am reminded of an African folktale which teaches that no one really dies as long as they are Re-membered.

When I think of Lulu’s life, images from Chapter 13 of St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians come to mind:

“Love is patient, love is kind – There is no limit to love’s forebearance, to its trust, its hope, its power to endure.

There are in the end three things that last: faith, hope and love and the greatest of these is love.”

Lulu was a woman of FAITH. She was raised a Methodist and became a Catholic. She believed her faith in a loving God was the greatest gift we could give her children. Prayer was particularly meaningful to her. If you were in trouble or needed help, you could count on her to pray for you. I was told that during World War II she prayed every day for the safe return of my grandfather, Robert Diggle. And hallelujah – he made it home safe and sound! Lulu had literally prayed him home.


Lulu was a woman of HOPE. While she missed my grandfather terribly after he passed away, she always looked forward to the day she would be reunited with him. She believed fervently in the hope of eternal life through the Lord Jesus Christ. And, in the end, her hopes and prayers for a blessed passing were granted – fifteen years to the day after Boboo died.

Lulu was also a woman of LOVE. She loved her mother, father and stepfather and her sister, Punny. She loved her husband, my grandfather, Robert Diggle, who was the love of her life.
She loved her kids -- Ellouise, Linda, Kathy, Robert and Dena. She loved their families – husbands and wives, kids and grandkids – and many many others -- too many people to name.

As long as she could, Lulu gave us hugs, kisses and love. It always seemed to me that, whoever you were, Lulu was just happy to see you. Just a simple “hey” was all she required.


Those of you who remember Lulu as a tiny fragile woman – let me assure you that she was a mighty presence in the family. She had a strong will as well as a soft heart. She was a provider and nurturer – the one to go to when you had a boo-boo or wanted a treat. She was also a wonderful cook and made a delicious rich hearty vegetable soup – very nourishing like the love of her family. But my personal favorite growing up were those melt-in-your-mouth mints she made at Christmas, which came in a tin, tucked away with the gifts she sent for the tree.

Later, I came to appreciate Lulu’s creative side. She made crocheted Afghans, cross stitched creations and other things. She may be gone from us physically, but there will be reminders of her in our homes for years to come -- in addition to the many memories in our hearts.

Lulu was a woman of her time.
She was a member of the Greatest Generation, who worked and raised kids at home on her own while my grandfather did his bit overseas in World War II. Later, she worked for many years at Memorial hospital, helping to take care of patients in intensive care, and volunteered in many roles right here at St. Patrick’s.

But her passion was her family. She cradled and nurtured her kids and her kids’s kids. Some like me only came through from time to time, while others spent every day with her. All of us were special to her.

Thomas Jefferson once said:

“The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have passed at home in the bosom of my family."

I think that is the way Lulu looked at her life: She was happiest when she was with her family and with her friends. Even if you weren’t there physically, a telephone call would do fine. Before there was an Internet or email, Lulu was connected.

Lulu was our mother, our sister, our grandmother, our great grandmother, our aunt and our friend. We wish she could have lived forever. But no living thing can. She lived a long full life – touching each of our hearts along the way.

Lulu lived a very long 92 years. In the end, she was very very lucky. She died because she was too old to go on. And God answered her prayer and granted her a peaceful, prayerful, blessed death - with the hope of an even better life ahead.

I know I speak for all of us, when I say, we love you Mama, Louise, Lulu and we will miss you very much.

James A. Schoettler, Jr.

Goodbye Mama

Today Mama's funeral was held at St Patrick's Cathedral, Charlotte, NC. Her friend
Father Paul Gary celebrated a beautiful Mass.
with scripture readings my sister, Kathy selected. Grandchildren read them Mama had selected the music she wanted about ten years ago and Music Director, Larry Strattlemeyer followed her wishes.
My sister Dena's husband Tim Ayers sang a beautiful selection, as he had promised Mama he would.

My son Jim.
the oldest grandson, presented the eulogy (which I will post here when I get home). I thanked special people and told the Kites story.


Emily Bliss, told a lovely grand-daughter's memory of believing that Mama was the richest woman in the world because she thought the old glass door knobs in her house were diamonds - and how now as an adult she undertands that Mama was a very rich woman - rich in love and family.

With our lights blinking the procession to Evergreen stopped traffic at busy intersections.
Mama would have loved it.

It was a loving and proper waving good-bye. Now starts the long good-bye - the missing her.


Afterwards the Bereavement Committee at St. Patrick's served a lovely lunch for the family.

On a personal note:
But for me - more important than food were the hugs from my three dearest friends - three I have loved as sisters since high school and before. Betsy, Thorny and Hoke - and I am Diggle to them. Betsy and I have known each other since we were Girl Scouts and somehow we united as a four-some at Central High School. We are missing Minogue but I know her spirit was hovering near-by. Betsy came from Atglen, PA, Hoke, from Chapel Hill, NC and Thorny from Lake Norman. Their hugs are precious. Healing.

Stories are Powerful

Kate wrote that she was sending me energy to help me with my storytelling tonight. It came through!

Tonight I told a solo program of stories at the Kensington Row Bookshop to an overflowing crowd. Even though we leave very early tomorrow morning for North Carolina I did not cancel the program because there had been publicity about it and there was no way to tell people I would not be there. I am so glad I didn"t cancel.

Many people who came were new to storytelling. Many were storyteller friends who knew about Mama's death and came to lend support. Whatever their reason for coming every person there accepted me and my stories warmly.

i changed the program and told stories of my childood which celebrated my parents. I was nervous about doing that fearing that I would find it very emotional. No. Once the stories began I was telling from the heart = remembering them with love and joy and enjoying having a chance to tell their stories. Stories were healing my heart.

I told a WWII story, a story about my dad as a young boy, a family ghost story, and several stories about Mama. I especially love a story I call Cats. They felt right and people laughed and loved them. My friend Josephine hugged me at the end, "Ellouise you turned this to a wonderful memorial for your mother."

It was - and every one of the people there helped me do it. I felt their love and support. The stories flowed and I feel healed.
And very close to Mama and to Daddy.
Thank you.

Blue Hydrangeas

Yesterday I ordered the flowers my family will send to Mama's funeral. We had talked about asking for a blue and white arrangement because those are the colors most associated with the Blessed Virgin and the rosary. Since Mama had a special love of the rosary that seemed like a good thing - a private hug for her.

When I talked to the designer at the florist in Charlotte he said "oh, that sounds nice. We have some beautiful blue hydrangeas right now."

Perfect - he will mix them with white roses, gerber daisies and other deeper touches of blue - but its the blue hydrangeas that are special to me and right for Mama.

There were large hydrangea bushes on either side of Granny's front porch steps.

The hydarangeas will be a special connection to two mothers Mama loved deeply.

This makes me feel connected to Mama.

Its true.

Funerals are for the living.

Looking for Comfort

Mama used to say - "if Ellouise answers the phone, there could be blood on the floor and she will tell you everything is fine."

My cousin Jim called, "How are you Ellouise? I am worried about you."
"I am fine." I assured him.

The morning after mama died I woke up a bit numb and dreading the day which promised family meetings about the funeral and other such stuff. My family is not big on hugs - at least not that I can tell - and I was hungry for a few.

I burst into tears when I picked up sweet messages from storyteller friends who had read about Mama's death on this blog. Just the hugs I was needing.

Jim and I decided to go into Charlotte early - to visit some of my family. I knew they would be at home because I was headed to Elmwood Cemetary where many of my favorites from my childhood are resting.

This was a sunny Saturday - a football Saturday - the streets were clogged with fans going to the Virginia Tech - East Carolina Football game. All parking lots within blocks of the stadium were full. Tail gates were open and partying in full swing.

As soon as we drove through the gates of Elmwood Cemetary all that noise dropped away - leaving the calming buzz of cicada in the trees and a few bird calls.

Elmwood is familiar turf - first from my childhood when I would come with Granny to visit Mama's daddy and then later, once the genealogy bug grabbed me, I wandered the paths finding folks.

We stopped first at the Cobb plot. This was an unmarked grave plot until the early 1990s when I invited some Diggle family members to contribute to a stone that would name all the folks resting here. Genealogy causes you to do things like that. The stone was laid and we celebrated a Mass at St. Peters Catholic Church where they had all worshiped from the 1850s until late 1960s.
My godmother, Annie Grose is buried here and I used to tell people that Aunt Annie
haunted me in my dreams until I got that stone placed. When we left I found myself thinking about bushes and plants.
This is where my father's parents, his grandparents, his brother Jack, his sister, Mary Cobb and her husband Pete are resting.

And then only a half a block away I came to Granny's plot.
I have been coming to this spot since my earliest memories - on Sunday afternoons with Mama and Granny. Maybe I thought I would find Mama here too. She has been looking for Granny for months.
Where ever they are I hope they are together and laughing.

Someone said to me recently that they did not understand why Catholics don't believe in "scattering" ashes. I do. I am glad I am Catholic and won't be scattered. I want a spot. Someplace where people can find me. And I know just where it will be -
Arlington National Cemetary, down the hill on the left side of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier monument.

Our daughter Gretchen is already there - holding the place for Jim and me.

Just like Daddy has been holding Mama's spot next to him at Evergreen Cemetary.

Three Beautiful Things

Getting on with life.

1. A delicious hot bath.

2. My new storytelling cds have arrived. Just in time for my storytelling program Wednesday evening.

3. A crape myrtle is blooming outside the window next to the computer and the sun is shining.

Daddy's Kites

You read it here first.
September 2 the story will be posted on Eldertorytelling.

Note:
Daddys Kites was posted HERE