They arrived strangers, but through the evening, they shared a meal, maybe fought over the last drumstick on the platter or the last biscuit in the basket.

Monday, February 26, 2001

They arrived strangers, but through the evening, they shared a meal, maybe fought over the last drumstick on the platter or the last biscuit in the basket. They heard stories. They parted friends.

The annual Stories of the Heartland dinner show and concert, held Friday at the Days Inn, brought people from several states together to hear popular storytellers from all over the country. It was part of several events being held in conjunction with the 16th annual festival in Austin and Albert Lea.

Before the show, and during intermission, Dale Whiteside of Moline, Ill., entertained with songs and banjo selections. Whiteside was joining the festival for his second consecutive year.

Jackson Gillman, of Onset, Mass., entertained with his parodies of songs. &uot;Strangers in My Soup&uot; gave a new setting to Frank Sinatra’s &uot;Strangers in the Night.&uot; &uot;Sun Lotion 99&uot; took a humorous look at the need for sunscreen to the tune of &uot;Love Potion No. 9.&uot; Gillman’s known as the &uot;Stand-Up Chameleon&uot; because he incorporates his talents as a mime, a storyteller, an actor and songsmith.

After hearing Gillman, storyteller Kathryn Windham of Selma, Ala., shared why she does not sing. The 82-year-old told of learning to do the &uot;shimmy&uot; at age 3 -&160;a practice frowned upon in the Methodist Church those days -&160;and of taking piano lessons.

&uot;The weekly piano lessons were nothing compared to the recitals,&uot; Windham recalled. &uot;I had the same piece for four years.&uot;

Gillman’s career as a journalist spanned more than four decades, from the Great Depression through the Civil Rights movement.

Albert Lea’s own Bev Jackson, executive director of the Freeborn County Historical Society and festival coordinator, told why life is like a big green school bus. When her family was young, they traveled in a refurbished school bus/

&uot;A lot of things happen on a bus like that, but there’s a lot of love inside,&uot; she said.

Antonio Sacre of Los Angeles, Calif., wove his stories in English and Spanish. He told of growing up with an Irish-American mother, a Cuban father and a Spanish-speaking grandmother, and why, after discarding one of his two languages as a youngster, he once again uses both tongues.

Michael Cotter of Austin, the storytelling festival’s artistic director, decided to tell, for the benefit of the storytellers from warmer climes, why he has &uot;underwear anxiety.&uot;

Once when mixing medicine for sick cattle, he watched &uot;Donahue&uot; and &uot;Oprah.&uot; The farmer got thinking about what little secret he was hiding. He decided it had to be &uot;underwear anxiety,&uot; something that dated back to his parochial school days.

Later, as a married man, he was embarrassed that his wife would hang his grease-stained underwear next to the driveway on the clothesline.

&uot;It all made me decide that men need to be empowered and wash their own underwear,&uot; he said.

He also told about purchasing from the local salvage man a couple of dozen women’s underwear -&160;with the intention of using them as grease rags. They came from what had been known as the women’s insane asylum in Faribault.

Somehow, Cotter retold, he got the idea to try the underwear himself -&160;and developed an awful rash. The veterinarian helped him clear it up with some &uot;cream for damaged udders.&uot;

After the experience, Cotter said, he got to wondering if the women were really crazy at all -&160;or just suffering from underwear anxiety.