Monday, March 21, 2011

Accordion stories

I agree to tell stories in a day-ward.
Only then do I ask what age they are, the listeners.
Not old, the youngest is 84 years old.
I arrive to find six patients matched with six minders.
The minders do not have much English and I tell local stories to listeners who are locals grown old who will recognise the references.
One man mistakes me for a country and western accordion player with the same first name. He asks me to sing his/my greatest hits.
When I say I am a storyteller he goes into a huff until I finish telling a story to a 90-year-old who thinks she is in nursery school and who would rather be outside playing in the rain.
When I don't sing requests, the man goes off to bed in the middle of my finale and the woman throws a plastic cup at a rival across the room before I leave.
The booker says they had a great time and will I come again?
Not until I learn to play the accordion I say as I step out into the real world.
storytelling here

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