Tell Me A Story

I know of no one who doesn't love stories. My first memories are of looking at pictures in books and adoring the stories that came from them. It seemed a miracle to learn how  to read so that I could hold the books and miraculously say the words myself.  It is an indelible memory to recall telling and reading stories to my child and then to his children who didn't want to go to bed without a story either read or told them. The love of story is a generic human need that emerges from our earliest times as humans.  And even now, hearing it said in Book Clubs and places where people know much of the history of legend and myth, the matter of story telling and its values, there is proof that it's more than mere entertainment. Today, I read an article about early Man, that gave evidence of story as part of our very being, in symbols found on cave walls. On them are the beginnings of  what later became, in time, written language. It began as pictures painted to tell proud, honorable stories. On cave walls, we see symbols and renderings of the hunt and the hand prints of our early fellows. Beyond the nightly story telling that good parents in their homes with their children, take time for, there is, the inborn need we all have for story. It relaxes us and entertains us and educates us. We listen to stories and let our imaginations form the images the way we feel they are. It is an exercise in personal artistry. Our inner caves. Our love of colour and shape and form made by movie makers and documentarians and news reporters are our media stories. Some are realities and others are mere creation. Story telling is part of the history of all men. Stories can be humorous or challenge our thinking or inspire us or intrigue us, but they are all fodder for the hungry imagination. They take us to places we haven't been to and never go to. They allow us to feel what we know is true and also what we need to fear, what is impossible and what is harshly real, what is so beautiful it touches us as no other form can. Think what your favorite childhood story was and how you have never forgotten it even though you may not know why it meant so much to you. Remember the teacher or librarian who read books to you, ones that became part of your most pleasurable memories. Recall the movies, plays and operas that stand out in your mind and that you love to feel over and over again. All of these are just stories. The ancients didn't need an alphabet or other symbols when they had their people relate tales of why and how and who they were. Stories are the vehicle that brings us all together. It is interesting that every society in the world, without exception, has basically the same stories, those with the same kinds of exploits and destinies and victories over evil or journeys of success or finding love and place. Everyone is comforted, relaxed and refreshed in listening to stories. There is something primitively satisfying to hear a good story told by someone with that kind of talent. It is one of our basic needs just as food and shelter and love. The eternal proof, is in hearing the words "Please tell us a story, Nana, before we go to sleep?"