The Old Man sat by the campfire. The flames licked up around the dry wood. The circle was full. The sky was full of stars. There was the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper ready to hear the Story. The Moon had a wide smile. Mr. Moon winked at the Old Man. The fire danced and crackled. ‘We need a Story,’ the Man said. ‘We have gone too long without a Story,’ the Man continued. ‘We are here; why are we here? Where are we going?’ the Man asked. ‘Many tell us stories, but they do not resonate, satisfy, appease,’ the Man continued. ‘The story of money has no conclusion; capitalism’s plot is thin gruel,’ the Man noted. ‘Continuous war is a sad story no one wins; if you win, what have you won?’ the Man asked. ‘Greed is not good; home is good; a sense of place is good,’ the Man explained. ‘The children cry; the innocent die; leaders ignore what is in front of them,’ the Man said softly.

‘Speak to us of the old ways of servant/leaders of helping others,’ the Woman said. ‘We seek meaning, truth, hope,’ the Woman continued. ‘How far are the stars from us? ‘ We want to visit them,’ the Woman said. ‘It is obvious there is more that we do not see than what we see,’ the Woman explained. ‘Our daughters are hungry, our sons are aimless, our families are broken as we wait for the Story,’ the Woman said in a whisper. ‘Churches tell us how to become rich by giving more money than we have; they are insular, looking at themselves in a large mirror while suffering is at their door,’ the Woman said. ‘The rich and powerful have rich and powerful friends who help them ascend the corporate ladder while the rest of us watch in despair,’ the Woman noted with a tear in her eye.

‘We have hidden in the Woods for fear of being arrested, deported, or hunted like thieves and murderers,’ the Preacher said. ‘Families are separated, lives are ruined, people are killed,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Bragadoccio is good; humility is bad; boasting is a clear sign of leadership; soldiers are called losers,’ the Preacher said. ‘We speak of Hope, Faith, Mercy, He who is promised,’ the Preacher said joyfully.

‘Story has power. Story directs us. Story revives us,’ the Old Man said with a smile. ‘We are united in our hunger for Story, for Truth, Direction in the Dark,’ the Old Man continued. ‘Adam and Eve heard the Story,’ the Old Man said. ‘We lost Dolly Parton this week, and folks from all walks of life miss her, mourn her,’ the Old Man continued. ‘Dolly accepted everyone excluded no one,’ the Old Man said. ‘The Story is David and Goliath, the woman about to be stoned until Christ intervened, the leper, the winebibber, the Prostitute, the Old Man said with feeling. ‘The Story is the Golden Calf wandering in the desert for 40 years, David and Bathsheba,’ the Old Man said as he looked up at the Big Dipper. ‘The Story is in your eyes and your breath, your getting back on your feet when you fall, forgiving those who have wronged you,’ the Old Man said.

‘Look, Mom, in the sky there is a new cluster of stars that appears to be people sitting around a campfire with a Storyteller in the middle of them,’ the Child said.