Winter Was Storytime Growing Up As A Child

While growing up in my family, there were lots and lots of stories. Stories from children's books were read, mostly at bedtime, and there were stories told year-round. Stories that weren't written. Stories that were very old and taught a lesson or told of why things are the way they are.

Nanaboozhoo was the son of Nokomis, and they were talking of the fast approach of winter. There was a light snowfall, like the one we had today. Nokomis asked Nanaboozhoo if he might take a trip to get some fire from the giant of a man who lived in the castle with his three daughters.

Nokomis went on to talk about how his daughters won't ever marry, as he had turned away everyone interested in the daughters. That got the attention of Nanaboozhoo, and he set off to get the fire for Nokomis. He traveled on the bunny trail as Nanaboozhoo could shape shift, and he thought he would get there that much quicker if he went as a rabbit.

Nanaboozhoo got to the castle before dark and hid until he thought the giant of a man would be sleeping. When he then entered the castle, one of the daughters met him. After telling her what he was there for, she agreed to help him. So they went into where the fire was, and she handed him the fire.

Just then, her sisters woke and started to make noise, and he decided he had better leave. He took off out the door, and as he got down the hill and into the tree line, the giant of a man was right behind him and shooting bolts of lightning at him. He shifted into a big rabbit (chi wabooz) and hoped from side to side, just barely avoiding the fire.

When a spark would hit, he would quickly slide on the snow to put that fire out. When the giant of a man was again getting closer, he hollered, asking for help, and the birch trees told him to hide behind them. He did that by hopping from one to another.

My mom said that is how the birchbark trees got the marks on them. She told many Nanaboozhoo stories in the winter. Nanaboozhoo was a trickster and could shapeshift, and is given credit for naming all the animals. My mother had only one Nanaboozhoo story that she told in the summer.

My aunt told us when we told her the story that our mother just made that story up. She said, "Your mother knows she isn't supposed to tell Nanaboozhoo stories in the summer! There is so much that I've heard growing up that helped me to understand myself and others.

I was told that the reason stories were told more in the winter was that there was always too much work to do in the other seasons of the year to prepare for winter. That made sense to me. Then others have said the stories should be told after dark.

There are different dialects of our Ojibwe language, and along with that come different versions of Nanaboozhoo, Manaboozhoo, and Wanaboozhoo, and several other variations. I spell it so it is easier to pronounce, but the correct spelling is a bit different.

When growing up in Bemidji, where there is a statue of Paul Bunyan, I was told that Nanaboozhoo dropped Paul and that the lake is shaped after his backside. Lots of things like this and lots of long stories that take a long time to tell. I got used to listening to my elders tell stories, and I loved it.

We have many culture cops within our people, and even those not American Indian are experts sometimes. In my family, we told Nanaboozhoo stories in the winter.

As kids, we also made ice cream with snow, went sliding, and played a game called snow snake. Because of the stories told to us, we would always be home before dark, and we would never think to go to the water or into the woods by ourselves.