My True Calling
I am Lorie Michelle. My great grandmother, May Pearl Durin, was an original enrollee on the Chickasaw Nation Dawes Roll. I am the granddaughter of the late Joseph and Euline Hamilton and the late Earl Robins. I come from a family of not only strong men but strong women as well.
I was introduced to storytelling by master storyteller Glenda Galvan. I thought Glenda was the first to introduce me to storytelling because I would accompany her to surrounding schools and various functions she was asked to attend. I would sit, listen and watch how she had the whole audience of all ages enter into another world. The traditional way of storytelling is by the mother giving her stories to her daughters, and they, in turn, would give them to their daughters. But, in Glenda's words, "the good Lord blessed me with two boys." So traditionally, the stories would end with her, but she didn't want that. So she began to ask the elders, whom she much respected, what could be done so that the stories would continue. A few said nothing could be done; the stories would just stop. But others told her that she could adopt someone, a person that she felt would tell the stories the way they should be told. With great honor, I accepted when she asked me and I have been having the time of my life ever since. As I began this journey of storytelling I realized that I had been exposed to storytelling all my life through my Granny. I was not brought up listening to my Granny telling me the traditional Indian How stories......what I, along with many cousins, listened to was my Granny telling family stories. She had a box of old photos. There where all kinds of photos, tin types, war photos, boarding school photos, family reunions from years past, and wedding photos. As my cousins, sister and I got this box out our Granny would start talking about all the family members who had lived long ago. She would tell us about her school days, the day she met my grandfather, her days working at Mill Creek school where she helped students, and days watching her own children, our parents, grow up. It was at this time I also learned that my grandfather never finished school and surprisingly enough neither did my Granny. It made sense why it was so important to her that her children and grandchildren make the life-changing walk across the stage to receive their diploma. She also shared stories that my grandfather believed that education was important and that every Indian child deserved a good education. To make sure of this he began a bus route with a church bus and drove for miles picking up Indian kids and then taking them to school. This bus route he started still exist today. Even though I did grow up with my Granny telling me stories - I never thought of it as a road I was suppose to be on. I always thought of my storytelling as a journey I just happen to stumble upon. I told stories as a hobby.
It was while attending a family reunion. The fourth one without my Granny to be exact. She passed on to be with her husband, my grandfather, and I am certain that was a reunion we would all loved to have seen. My Granny's younger sister started the reunion by standing in front of everyone and announcing that she thought we should start the day by telling stories of Granny Pearl, my Granny's mother, because there where so many little ones in the family who never had the pleasure of knowing her and now they needed to meet her. This is how we introduce those who have passed on to family who have never had the pleasure of meeting them. One by one family members started telling stories about Granny Pearl. Stories came from my Aunt Oretha, Aunt Jackie, cousins Dennis , Angela, Denise and Bobbo, and even my Uncle Robert. Stories started pouring out of them. As I sat and listened to them it was like a bolt of lightening struck me. I am on the road I am suppose to be on......I come from a family of storytellers.
I was introduced to storytelling by master storyteller Glenda Galvan. I thought Glenda was the first to introduce me to storytelling because I would accompany her to surrounding schools and various functions she was asked to attend. I would sit, listen and watch how she had the whole audience of all ages enter into another world. The traditional way of storytelling is by the mother giving her stories to her daughters, and they, in turn, would give them to their daughters. But, in Glenda's words, "the good Lord blessed me with two boys." So traditionally, the stories would end with her, but she didn't want that. So she began to ask the elders, whom she much respected, what could be done so that the stories would continue. A few said nothing could be done; the stories would just stop. But others told her that she could adopt someone, a person that she felt would tell the stories the way they should be told. With great honor, I accepted when she asked me and I have been having the time of my life ever since. As I began this journey of storytelling I realized that I had been exposed to storytelling all my life through my Granny. I was not brought up listening to my Granny telling me the traditional Indian How stories......what I, along with many cousins, listened to was my Granny telling family stories. She had a box of old photos. There where all kinds of photos, tin types, war photos, boarding school photos, family reunions from years past, and wedding photos. As my cousins, sister and I got this box out our Granny would start talking about all the family members who had lived long ago. She would tell us about her school days, the day she met my grandfather, her days working at Mill Creek school where she helped students, and days watching her own children, our parents, grow up. It was at this time I also learned that my grandfather never finished school and surprisingly enough neither did my Granny. It made sense why it was so important to her that her children and grandchildren make the life-changing walk across the stage to receive their diploma. She also shared stories that my grandfather believed that education was important and that every Indian child deserved a good education. To make sure of this he began a bus route with a church bus and drove for miles picking up Indian kids and then taking them to school. This bus route he started still exist today. Even though I did grow up with my Granny telling me stories - I never thought of it as a road I was suppose to be on. I always thought of my storytelling as a journey I just happen to stumble upon. I told stories as a hobby.
It was while attending a family reunion. The fourth one without my Granny to be exact. She passed on to be with her husband, my grandfather, and I am certain that was a reunion we would all loved to have seen. My Granny's younger sister started the reunion by standing in front of everyone and announcing that she thought we should start the day by telling stories of Granny Pearl, my Granny's mother, because there where so many little ones in the family who never had the pleasure of knowing her and now they needed to meet her. This is how we introduce those who have passed on to family who have never had the pleasure of meeting them. One by one family members started telling stories about Granny Pearl. Stories came from my Aunt Oretha, Aunt Jackie, cousins Dennis , Angela, Denise and Bobbo, and even my Uncle Robert. Stories started pouring out of them. As I sat and listened to them it was like a bolt of lightening struck me. I am on the road I am suppose to be on......I come from a family of storytellers.
Granny, me and my mother Linda
