WHO GREW MY SOUP?

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking


Ask your child where their food comes from.

Chances are they will say the grocery store.

Most adults don't have a clue where the food on their plate comes from either. 

 Suggestions:
  

• Take the family to pick apples or blueberries or strawberries.

• Shop for fresh fruits and vegetables at a local Farmer's Market.
• Help your child plant your own vegetable garden at home, or rent a space in a community garden.
• Visit a farm and talk with a farmer.
• Read books and articles about real farmers who grow our food.

Campbell Soup Company underwrote a book project,"Who Grew My Soup?" (by Tom Darbyshire)..."in hopes that children of all ages will learn to love to eat their vegetables."  

I shared the book with children and teachers in one of my STORYTELLING concerts at a preschool harvest festival.  

Before I even started reading this book - I pulled out my big can of Campbell's Vegetable Soup and ask the children to name what was inside the can. Most could not. 

One child guessed:  "Chicken nuggets?"

I wrote a review of  "Who Grew My Soup?"  for Amazon.com.
 
 

Tom Darbyshire is an Senior Vice President, Senior Creative Director at BBDO-New York, where he and his colleagues are responsible for the development of advertising that Campbell Soup Company  uses to promote its soups. 

Here is my review as it now appears on Amazon.com...

"Who Grew My Soup" 
-- A Must-have Book for Oral Storytellers

I invite my audiences (children and adults alike) to become part of the storytelling experience, and as I read -- I request that they:

1) Mimic Phineas Quinn's facial expressions. C.F. Payne's unique, Norman-Rockwell-like illustrations are priceless.
2) Repeat key phrases like, "Who grew my soup?"
and
3) Finish the last word of some sentences. Tom Darbyshire's rhymes are fun to read! The audience is so involved that when I purposely leave off the last word they finish my sentence with the appropriate rhyme. Example: "Phin, meet Farmer Perez, his thumbs are quite green, the tomatoes he grows are the best ever...." and the children add......"seen!"

Before I even start reading this book - I pull out my big can of Campbell's Vegetable Soup and ask the children to name what is inside the can. Most could not.

One guessed, "Chicken nuggets."

I give the children (preschool and elementary) several words to LISTEN for in the story. Here are the ones I chose for "Who Grew My Soup" -- Yuck, Gunk, Boogers, Icky...and that list is from the second page! Of course, boogers is their favorite.

I'm delightfully surprised that someone in corporate America could have written this story. Congratulations to the author, Tom Darbyshire, and to his wife, two daughters, and two dogs, who he must have listened to to write such true-to-life dialogue.

Adult comments after storytelling concerts reveal that they love the story as much as the children. This is a book that not only professional storytellers will love - but parents, teachers, and grandparents will want to share with their own picky eaters!

My personal thanks to Campbell Soup Company who underwrote this book project..."in hopes that children of all ages will learn to love to eat their vegetables."

Marcia Norwood
STORYTELLER  

 Click on this link to read my review on Amazon.com:

  http://www.amazon.com/Who-Grew-Soup-Tom-Darbyshire/product-reviews/1412745446  

Mr. Darbyshire  read my review, and contacted me to thank me.  He also sent me an autographed copy of his book. 

Dear Marcia,

The folks at Campbell’s passed along your very kind review of Who Grew My Soup.  I loved your tips about how to use it in storytelling.  I just visited several elementary schools last week in my hometown in Georgia and sharing the book with the kids was great fun.

I hope you have a wonderful holiday. Your note is one more thing I have to be thankful for!

If you would like an autographed copy, I would be delighted to send you one.  Just give me your mailing address.

Tom Darbyshire
BBDO 

Ask you child where their food comes from.

You might be surprised at their answers.

I would love to hear them!   

Thanks for stopping by!  

Come back often, and bring a friend. 

Marcia Norwood  

America's STORYTELLER

Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

Email:  marcia.norwood@sbcglobal.net

 

HUG COLLECTOR

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking


H U G

Verb
 
1.   to clasp tightly in the arms - especially with affection, embrace
2.   to cling firmly or fondly to; cherish
3.   to keep close to, as in sailing, walking, or in moving alongside of:  to hug the shore; to hug the road  (used without object)
4.  to cling together; lie close

Noun
 1.  a tight clasp with the arms; embrace

Origin
1560-70,  Perhaps Old Norse hugga  to soothe, console; akin to Old English hogian  to care for

 I'm a hugger.

How about you?

Why do people hug?

1.  to say hello and goodbye

2.  to show affection

3.  to give comfort

4.  in celebration of events or accomplishments

Marcia's grandson, Caleb

When is National HUG Day?
 
Some celebrate National Hug Day on January 21st. 

Reverend Kevin Zaborney, of Caro, Michigan, started National Hug Day in 1986. This is not an official holiday, but Reverend Zaborney has the patent on the name. 

 How will you celebrate National HUG Day?

Thanks for stopping by!

Come again, and bring a friend!

Granddaughter Megan, Marcia, Daughter Sarah, Daughter Faith

 Marcia Norwood

America's STORYTELLER

Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking 

 

















 

M I S T A K E S

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking


M I S T A K E

Noun

1.   error or blunder in action, opinion or judgment
2.   misconception or misunderstanding



How hard is it for you to admit you made a mistake?

"It is the highest form of self-respect 

to admit our errors and mistakes, 
and make amends for them.

To make a mistake is only an error in judgment,

but to adhere to it when it is discovered

shows infirmity of character."

Dale Turner

Missouri Barn, Copyright 2008 Marcia Norwood

   What lessons have you learned from your past mistakes?

"Some of the best lessons we ever learn

are learned from past mistakes.

The error of the past 

is the wisdom and success of the future."

Dale Turner

 

 Wheels, Copyright 2008 Marcia Norwood

  "People who make no mistakes

lack boldness and the spirit of adventure.

They are the brakes on the wheels of progress."

Dale Turner

Dale Turner was the religion columnist for the Seattle Times, and  former pastor of the University Congregational Church in Seattle.  

Be kind," he would say. "Everyone you meet is carrying a heavy burden."

"Dale showed all of us how the power of the press 

could be used to enrich people's lives, 

to enlighten them, to build community and understanding.

His words brought grace and beauty 

to pages too often filled with despair. 

 His legacy will endure at The Times." 

David Boardman, Seattle Times Managing Editor

Read more about Dale Turner:

Click on this link:   http://seattletimes.com/html/localnews/2003044622_daleobit07m.html


Click on this link:    http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=105x5238812

I don't want to be "brakes on the wheels of progress." I've chosen to admit my mistakes...learn from them...and  live my life with boldness and a spirit of adventure.  

How about you?  

Thanks for stopping by!  

Come again, and bring a friend!

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

.

SEASONS

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Tellling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

"I love these little people;

and it is not a slight thing, when they,

who are so fresh from God, love us."

 Charles Dickens

"Children learn by doing, and play is their work."

 "Teaching Preschool is like herding cats."

Author: Anonymous

"You can't scare me.

I've taught three, four and five year olds."

 Marcia Norwood

"It is remarkable how, overnight,

a quiet mature lady can learn to sit cross-legged

on the floor and play a tin drum,

quack like a duck, 

sing all the verses of The Twelve Days of Christmas,

make paper flowers, draw pigs,

and sew on the ears of severely-injured teddy bears." 

 Author: Anonymous

 "A child fills a place in your heart

you never knew was empty."

  Author: Anonymous

 

 

"The world is filled with undiscovered wonders.

Come, little one,

let's find them out together."

Emilie Ahern

 Thanks for stopping by!

Come back often, and bring a friend!

Marcia Norwood

America's STORYTELLER

Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

  

 

MOTHER OF THE GROOM

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

MOTHER OF THE GROOM
A True Story

Copyright 1997 Marcia Norwood

“I’m not a master gardener,  but I am wiser for the time I have spent in my garden.   I’ve discovered it takes something more than human hands to create a beautiful garden.   It's a partnership with the Creator of the Universe.  Cultivating a friendship is a partnership, too, -- of giving and receiving. “

Mary Marcia Lee Norwood

Antique Missouri Military Wagon in the Norwood Gardens

My role as Mother of the Bride was much easier than my role as Mother of the Groom.  I’ve been both and lived to tell about it…barely. Our daughter, Kristin, was married at our church.  I prepared all the floral bouquets and arrangements, made the punch, baked 500 mini-blueberry muffins, created the wedding programs, decorated the church fellowship hall for the reception, and for the most part acted as wedding coordinator.

Piece of Cake.

Four years later, our son, Benjamin, was married in our rose garden. My husband, Ed, and I worked hard to make the gardens around our Colonial home “picture-perfect.”   Benjamin and Ed designed and built a Victorian gazebo for the wedding ceremony.    Construction halted when Ed stepped on a nail causing a puncture wound that refused to heal.   Ed was back at work after surgery and a brief hospital stay, sporting crutches and swallowing  pain medication, and meds to cure the staff infection.

 

Norwood Front Gardens: Two Tiny Ponds,  Pergola with Swing, Picket Fence, Gazebo

Spring sprang at the Norwood Gardens.   Blossoms of butter-yellow forsythia; fluffy, Cool-Whip-white and pink-lemonade crabapple; and brilliant, iridescent pink-icing  redwood trees  lined our hundred foot driveway. 

Crabapple Tree

  Stately  wintergreen boxwood marched along one side the rose parade.  The fragrance of  blood-red, Don Juan roses was intoxicating.  Birdies bathed unashamedly on the front lawn.  Their shower-songs were accompanied by chirping crickets and croaking frogs sunbathing on stone ledges of two tiny, bubbling  ponds.    Butterflies fluttered to and fro.  

A robin bathes unashamedly on the front lawn

 

Two Tiny Bubbling Ponds

The slightest breeze stirred the heady perfume of lavender wisteria blooms as they fell gently from their perch on the overhead pergola.   

Wisteria

Fire-engine-red and school-bus-yellow tulips stood guard along the thirty foot sidewalk to our front door. 

Tulips

 Periwinkle blue vinca made their way between hot pink and lipstick-red azaleas and fuchsia rhododendrons on both sides of the white picket fence.  Sweet, peach honeysuckle vines and golden-yellow roses climbed the white-washed gazebo.    Tiny faces of pansies in multicultural shades of yellow, white, lavender and purple peeked out between the parsley and chives.  

Honeysuckle Vines

It was my heart’s desire to dazzle and delight members of the wedding party, and properly pamper the wedding guests, who were our closest friends and family.   Each guest had their own throne:  an ornate, white, Victorian garden chair.   

Preparations took their toll on my body.  I stooped from hours of dead-heading petals,  and lifting big rocks to find their rightful place in the garden.    My arms and hands were scratched from thorns and thistles.   My once-manicured nails were clipped (accidentally) with a pair of pruning shears.    My hands were rough and calloused.   I was covered from head to toe with poison oak, ivy and sumac.  

I exchanged my favorite perfume, Shalimar ™, and my Mary-Kay ™  make-up for Oak-N-Ivy CalaGel ™, Tecnu™,  and Calamine Lotion.    I gained ten pounds for every dose of steroids I swallowed to get rid of the poison, oak, ivy and sumac.  Let's see . . . four doses that year, and by the time the wisteria covered the entire pergola . . . I was too heavy to sit in the porch swing.  

I was still outside about one o’clock a.m. the morning of the wedding . . . watering the roses.  I slipped and fell – unable to get up.  My left knee was smashed and turned the wrong way UNDERNEATH me.  I didn’t move for twenty minutes…while the water from the garden hose continued to flow.  

All I could think about was “NOW – How am I going to finish wallpapering the guest bathroom before the wedding?” which was only hours away.

Ed was inside the house – asleep on the sofa, to avoid taking the stairs to our master bedroom on the second floor.  Somehow I managed to pull myself up out of the mud and thorns and crawled into the house. 

   

I woke up Ed.  He hobbled on his crutches to shut off the water.  We were both too tired to go to the Emergency Room.   Ed slept on the couch, and I slept beside him on the floor.  A couple of hours later I wiped off the dried mud.  Ed dropped me off at the ER and went on his way to take care of last-minute wedding errands. It's amazing how fast the Emergency Room will work you through when you tell them 100-plus guests are due at your home in a few hours for a wedding.  

Ed called for reinforcements.  The very friends and family we wanted to lavish our love on…came to our rescue.  My dearest friend, Janice Christopher, picked me up from the ER; brought me home; and stayed to help.  Along with Janice, my sister-in-laws: Lisa and Gail Bush and special friends Cheryl Mullis and  Alicia Hoff saved the day!  There would have been no wedding without them. 

Ed and I were both strung out on pain pills.  I sat in the middle of the floor of my kitchen giving orders.  The “Steel Magnolias” pretty much ignored me and did as they pleased.  The guest bathroom on the main floor of our home did get wallpapered after all, and with grateful hearts - we even made Janice's macho-husband, Dale, an “Honorary Steel Magnolia" for his help in cleaning and decorating!  

Dale and Janice Christopher

All in all it was quite a wedding day.  Ed looked so handsome in his tails and splints and crutches.  Under my full-length gown one could barely see the lines of my cast/immobilizer that ran from my crotch to my toes.  Glassy-eyed from pain medication - not tears, Ed and I limped along through the gazebo, down the stairs and joined the wedding guests sitting in beautiful, ornate, white, thrones that covered our soggy but well manicured lawn for this sacred event.  Tables with umbrellas dotted the horizon.  It was surreal -- at least in my mind.

I hardly noticed when the wind velocity picked up and sent one of the umbrellas airborne until it hit the gazebo during the opening song.  It alarmed some of the wedding guests.   Ed and I were undaunted.  The gentleman playing the keyboard was a little shaken - but the soloists, Bill and Jennifer Hildebrand, persevered.   

Things really began to get fun when the two ring bearers, dressed in tails...drove around the back of our two-story Colonial home in their own miniature Jeep decorated for the occasion.  They were followed by the flower girls attired in white lace - driving their own miniature, Barbie convertible. 

After vows and rings were exchanged our beloved pastor, Dr. William O. Poe, gave the closing prayer.  The wedding guests strolled through the gazebo and well-watered rose garden, and filed into our home for the reception.   

Everyone really seemed to enjoy the garden wedding - even the ones not heavily medicated.  

Thanks for stopping by!

Come back again, and bring a friend!

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking
Email:  marcia.norwood@sbcglobal.net