My grandmother was the greatest storyteller I have known. In her soft voice, she spoke of heroes and giants, of evil deeds and of mysterious spirits. Sometimes her stories were short, others epic, but she always managed to hold my brother and me completely under her spell. She seemed to have an infinite supply, at times telling a tale of the West Coast peoples and then a story from the prairies, the East or lands in the north.

My grandmother was the greatest storyteller I have known. In her soft voice, she spoke of heroes and giants, of evil deeds and of mysterious spirits. Sometimes her stories were short, others epic, but she always managed to hold my brother and me completely under her spell. She seemed to have an infinite supply, at times telling a tale of the West Coast peoples and then a story from the prairies, the East or lands in the north.

My grandmother was the greatest storyteller I have known. In her soft voice, she spoke of heroes and giants, of evil deeds and of mysterious spirits. Sometimes her stories were short, others epic, but she always managed to hold my brother and me completely under her spell. She seemed to have an infinite supply, at times telling a tale of the West Coast peoples and then a story from the prairies, the East or lands in the north.