In 1941 a lone german bomber dropped a bomb on the jam factory in my village. Apparently mistaking it for a munitions factory, the bomb succeeded in showering the locals with raspberry jam. Thankfully no one was hurt.
Elizabeth Woodcock fell off her horse one night in February 1799, in a snow blizzard having consumed most of the contents of a local ale house. She survived for 8 days in a snowdrift but died 6 months later. A local road is named after her.
These moments in history passed on in a local play celebrating the history of where I live made me think about how a moment can become a story that we give to each other and then pass on through the ages. The storytellers had almost given up trying to link known local snippets with great historical events. Other than placing them in time they were essentially simple moments remembered, passed on and then celebrated. Most were circumstance, something unusual, a small twist, full of irony and usually personal, human, amusing, quirky or uplifting.
It takes a tuned mind to spot these moments. It take a tuned mind to turn them into stories. Every day we have hundreds of them that if we thought about for a moment could be passed on and just might become another legend that lives on in time. Every single day. ..