Storyteller Lou Ann Homan
locketoftime@aol.com
www.louannhoman.com
Adventures usually have a starting point, mine did. I was in the middle of my Theatre of the Air program at school with parents, and microphones and a buzz in the air when my principal popped in. Kimberly is a friend as well as my boss so she is always stopping in to see what is going on in my room. This time she stood at the door and beckoned me. Yes, beckoned me. She simply said, “Do you want to go to China with me?” I quickly nodded yes and then got right back to work.
Later that night I called her to ask if I had been in a daze or were we going to China. Indeed we were going with a group call Global Indiana. The trip was in March and we had much preparation to do. We were visiting a performing arts school in the southeast corner of China, and because of the work that I do, I would be telling stories and teaching American square and folk dance.
We attended meetings, I made photo albums, learned new dances and stories, gathered indigenous products such as local maple syrup, popcorn, flower seeds. Well, the list went on and on.
The week before the trip, I noticed a nagging back ache. A quick trip to the Dr. and a pocket full of muscle relaxers and I was good to go, or so I thought. The flight over was very painful and on the first day of touring I fell and finished off the disc in Beijing. The story goes on for pages at this point, the hospital, trying to get home, how I did get home, surgery and recovery.
The disappointment was huge for me. I never got to the school and had to send my gifts with Kimberly. I was able to tell stories via cell phone as they amplified my voice to the students. Of course, I could not see their faces, I had to wait for the translator, and I choked tears back the entire time.
My spring schedule was dismal. No school. No storytelling. No travel. No gardening, sweeping, bending, cooking…
Fortunately I have an optimistic spirit that rose rather quickly. I could walk, I was no longer in a wheel chair, and I had friends and family that took care of my needs night and day. I was encouraged to walk as much and as far as I would like.
As a columnist for four county newspapers in Northern Indiana I wondered how I would continue to keep my writing fresh, creative and interesting from the confines of my house and the few blocks within my recovery area. Well, the library is only three blocks away, the courthouse a few more, the local coffee shop on the way, yes, I could make this work.
I got a hold of a friend of mine, Peg Dilbone, who is our county historian as well as a great friend. She always helps me with research when I am writing community shows, and other projects. I really needed her now. I spoke with my editor and shared my thoughts with him. Lucky for me, he is a fan of my writing and thought my readers would love the change. I would research my town and share local history for the next two months, and that is what I did.
In Angola, Indiana, my town, we are currently under a revitalization plan. New brick streets, more landscaping and street lamps to bring back the old town. On the first Monday of my new writing project, the men working on the job unearthed railroad ties from the center of town. I took hold of that one gem of knowledge and my research began.
In the early days I had to walk with an old sassafras cane, not wanting a metal walker. I used that cane to walk to our Carnegie Library, our courthouse and everywhere else I needed to go. I was really working on two problems at the same time…growing stronger and learning more and more history.
I found out as much information and possible on the old railroads, which ended up as a two-part story. I researched our founding fathers Thomas Gale and William Gilmore who came to northern Indiana when all was described as a ‘thicket’ to start their Spiritualism colony. These two men eventually gave the money and the land for the square and the courthouse making Angola the county seat. I knew all the city street names already, but did not know they were named for these men and their wives.
I researched the school, the courthouse, the first general store, the old Buck Lake Ranch, my street, the McClue reserve (using his diary), the stagecoach line, and the Underground Railroad. I learned of nicknames for streets and alleys such as Pig Tail Alley in Orland. I learned and visited of the grave of a small child buried on the wagon trail one day when the towering oaks whispered stories that no one knows anymore.
One day I had a call from the caretaker of Circle Hill Cemetery. She invited out to the Gale Mausoleum one cool day in May. With my sassafras cane, I meandered down the grassy hill and into the quiet depths of history. She showed me maps and blueprints from the 1800’s and sent me home with duplicate copies and stirring thoughts in my head.
My phone lines and Internet lines have been full of folks wanting to add to my stories or wanting more information. Town’s people, who have loved the stories, stop me on the street. I have charts and maps and field notes strung across the archives of my small library.
From a ruptured disc in China to finding out who we are and how did we get here has enamored my community and me as well. It has brought us together along with the major transformation of the downtown. This research is leading to performance pieces and I see a children’s book about the Pig Tail Alley and the Underground Railroad.
In the end, it is all about story; it is just all about story.
