Inside, the youngsters and elders took seats in a circle, the
elders spacing themselves about equidistant from each other. To my
surprise, it was story time, and we elders were to be the storytellers.
The first storyteller told of a voyage she had taken as a child with her
parents, and the second described a winter sleigh ride along a country
lane. My friend, a retired aeronautical engineer, spoke of airplanes and
spaceships and stars in the skies. Throughout, the youngsters
concentrated on the speaker, asked questions, voiced opinions, and, in
many ways expressed their wonder and interest. The adults were getting
as much from the telling as the children.
I had been engrossed in observing the reaction of the children to the
stories being told and I was unprepared for my part. Suddenly, it was
my turn. What could I say that would have meaning to these young
children? Searching my memory, I recalled that, when my children were
young, I had often baked bread for our family. My story would be
about baking braided bread, and I would pantomime the process and
have all present join in.
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