A Day of Storytelling

Yesterday was the Cave Run Storytelling Festival here in Kentucky at Cave Run Lake. I suppose it’s not too hard to understand why I love storytelling. I’ve been called a storyteller, but I do my story telling on paper or the computer page. At the Storytelling Festival, these storytellers stand up on a stage with a microphone and tell stories right out loud.

I suppose I’ve told plenty of stories out loud to my grandkids when they used to beg for a story. I’ve made up some wild stories for them, especially for my oldest granddaughter. I made up this one girl. It’s been so long ago that I can’t remember her name now. Seems it might have been Sally, but that girl changed into all sorts of things and got into all sorts of scrapes. None of the stories made much sense but my granddaughter liked them. Later other granddaughters begged for stories about princesses and some grandsons wanted stories about their dads.

I wish now I’d told them more stories about when I was a kid. I guess I’ve always had to be prodded a little to tell a story about myself. My husband is always ready to tell about this or that from when  he was a kid. I, on the other hand, never think my kid days would be all that interesting to them. However, I loved it when Mom told me stories about her young days, and I wish I had prodded my dad for more stories before he died.

Some of the storytellers Saturday shared stories based on things that happened to them. Some were when they were kids or about experiences with their kids or friends. Most storytellers mix in some smiles with their stories. Some mix in tears with touching moments. And some share folk stories or stories from true experiences.

A lot of those true experiences get stretched way out of shape as they become part of a story. I like this Mark Twain quote about remembering stories. He was definitely a storyteller.

“When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this but we all have to do it.”― Mark Twain

One storyteller, who knows how to get his listeners laughing, is Bil Lepp. He grew up in West Virginia, the youngest son of a preacher. Lepp takes dollops of his growing up years and other experiences and weaves them into stories. Somehow, no matter how wild those stories get, you still want to almost believe every word while you are laughing at his remembered hijinks.

“Bil Lepp is one of the funniest men I have ever heard and what’s so amazing about Bil is that he makes you believe those wild stories he tells.” — Kathryn Tucker Windham

One of his stories yesterday was about three of his friends and him all trying to evade the police by wearing orange ladies swimsuits. And yes, right there you are already shaking your head at the silliness of it, but somehow you are ready to suspend belief, at least long enough to picture and enjoy the story. In this one, he had the policemen catching the teens and calling in to their headquarters about the teens in their orange suits. That’s where Bil had fun with the color orange, by having this or that person claiming the suits were not just orange but a variety of orange shades, such as marmalade, peach, pumpkin, carrot, or flames. Then, of course, he had them running away in their outlandish attire. And we all laughed as we tried to keep up with the changing colors.

Oh, and since we are talking about colors, note the green Cave Run Storytelling Festival shirt he is wearing. It’s the very same featured shirt from several years ago that I was wearing. The Festival has a new design for their shirts each year, and while I wasn’t wearing the one for 2026, I was wearing one just like Bil Lepp. I should have seen if I could get him to take a picture with me, but instead I just snapped this picture of him telling his stories.

One of the really good things about the Festival is that it is held in a tent right beside the lake. So the scenery is wonderful. And the weather, most years that I’ve been blessed to be able to go, has been beautiful too. Two years back, when Hurricane Helene blew rain and winds far inland, they had to move the Festival into a church. We still got to hear great storytellers, but it wasn’t the same. We needed the great outdoors with sunshine and breezes.

Yesterday it was very chilly in the morning. Blankets were everywhere. Some covered up with them for warmth. Others spread them out on the grass around the big tent. People settled all around the tent on those blankets or set up lawn chairs to listen from there, especially if they had kids or dogs. Dogs of all shapes and sizes were everywhere as dogs are welcome to come enjoy the day with their owners. And it’s a great time for families with kids out pitching balls back and forth and running around for the sheer joy of it.

This year somebody’s granddad (at least we thought he might be a granddad) was entertaining the kids blowing giant bubbles or hundreds of bubbles at once with special nets attached to long poles. Okay, I admit it. It wasn’t just the kids who were entertained by the bubbles. I liked seeing them too. I should have tried to snap a picture before they popped. But most of all, I liked seeing and hearing the storytellers.

It’s also extra fun when family goes with me. This year my daughter, sister, and husband came along. One of my granddaughters and a friend of hers were supposed to come, but she woke up with a migraine and had to cancel out. Maybe next year. Because I hope to go back to Cave Run Lake for more stories then.

Have you ever been to a storytelling festival? Or told stories yourself?