The Life of a Storyteller

The house I lived in when I was a kid had a front porch also, and it was a great place to sit when Midwestern thunderstorms were moving through. And so was the attic of that house that had a separate entry and staircase where I liked to spend a lot of time, surrounded by books that my dad brought home from the local library when he worked as a janitor there, and they were being discarded because the readers had lost interest in them.I loved those books because they were full of stories...
More Description

The house I lived in when I was a kid had a front porch also, and it was a great place to sit when Midwestern thunderstorms were moving through. And so was the attic of that house that had a separate entry and staircase where I liked to spend a lot of time, surrounded by books that my dad brought home from the local library when he worked as a janitor there, and they were being discarded because the readers had lost interest in them.I loved those books because they were full of stories about kids who lived in families where the adults traveled a lot, and they hired governesses and other servants who took care of the kids. They had amazing adventures that I told all my friends and neighbor kids about. So I became a storyteller, too, and still am, and the kids would come calling at my door almost every day and would beg for stories, which I happily told them. It looks like I'm still telling stories and there is no escape.