He had a knack. Whenever he launched into an introduction, even if we were familiar with every word that followed, we knew we were in for a treat. My father, Alex Barris, had a unique talent for telling stories. And even if we knew it was a shaggy-dog story (one artificially stretched-out to build the suspense), we never tired of his telling it.
“Ever heard the story about the famous piano tuner?” he might begin.
“No,” we would say, dutifully, and settle in for my dad’s telling.
“His name was Opper Knockety. And he was a brilliant piano tuner. Once, he came to the house of a new customer. Opper Knockety sat down at the man’s untuned piano. His hands moved over the keys. Then, he tweaked the piano pegs. And then he sat down and played again. He tuned the piano for hours and hours, until it was done….”
There’s something in a person’s delivery of a story. It’s confidence. It’s timing. It’s pacing, the way a voice moves faster, then slower, gets louder then softer, then finishes with a flourish. You know that person is a natural storyteller.
Last Sunday, Briane Nasimok, a writer friend of mine, invited me to participate in a storytelling event – “But that’s another story” – in front of an audience at Free Times Café, a nightspot on College Street, in Toronto. I was one of six presenters invited to the stage to tell whatever story we liked, using the theme, “a heart-felt story.”
Among the presenters was Briane’s co-host, Christel Bartelse, a writer/producer and comedian, who offered a cautionary tale about online dating. One-woman performance artist, Polly Esther, recalled meeting Caroll “Big Bird” Spinney, the puppeteer and voice behind Oscar the Grouch, and being called out for catching Oscar’s mop hair in a suitcase zipper.
Then, movie critic and media host Geoff Pevere offered the bittersweet account of his life as a recovering alcoholic and misdiagnosed sex addict. Folk-tale specialist Lynn Torrie explored the love-hate relationship between a daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, while CBC and NPR Radio storyteller Sage Tyrtle drew volunteers from the audience into her plot to unseat mythical despot “Doug Fordeth.”
When I stepped on stage to begin my story of unearthing my father’s wartime story, I said with trepidation, “And now for something completely different.” Each story lasted about 15 minutes. Each generated some laughter, some reflection and lots of heart-felt applause.
And as I left the Free Times Café Sunday night, I thought, why couldn’t we have a monthly storytelling event in our town? Why not stage a regular storytelling event at a pub, lounge or restaurant in town? Call it “Storytellers Uxpo” or “Uxposition Monthly.” It doesn’t matter.
All week, I’ve considered the rich pool of storytellers living and working within the reach of this newspaper – performers such as Ken Welsh, Jennifer Carroll and Neil Crone. Some of our town’s busiest entrepreneurs, I know, have stories to tell – people such as Cathy Christoff, Ahmad Shah and Ginger Jackson.
There are musicians, cab drivers, sports buffs, history buffs journalists and clergy who’ve all regaled me with stories over the years. Who knows? We might even find a few politicians willing to give us something other than message track. Why not a tale without notes on a storyteller’s stage?
Last year, I travelled with a busload of students to the battlefields of Europe – each young person studied, rehearsed and recited the story of a Canadian who served overseas – and the storytellers’ passion resonates with me yet.
And how about some of those friends who come to life each summer ’round the campfire? Ask town lawyer and bagpiper Bob Sedore to recite the entire poem, “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” and you won’t be disappointed. And speaking of Robert Service, we could invite actor/writer and former resident Conrad Boyce to come home for a piece of Service’s “Ballads of a Bohemian,” and he’d have us in tears.
Oh yes, what about my dad’s story about the expert piano tuner? Well, as Dad told it, after Opper Knockety had finished tuning the man’s piano and left, the man sat down at the keys and began to play. But something was wrong. The man didn’t like the way Opper Knockety had tuned his piano.
And so, he called the famed expert. “I need you to come back and fix my piano,” the customer insisted.
“Never,” the piano tuner said defiantly. “Opper Knockety only tunes once!”
Perhaps it loses a bit in translation to the printed page, but as stories go, it was one of my dad’s favourites. If told well in front of an audience at a pub, a restaurant, a golf club or Legion lounge, even a school library, there’s no end to the possibilities that storytelling for edification and entertainment can bring.
