“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.”

This, my friends, is The Storyteller’s Creed. I have lived it and breathed it all my life. As I examined that creed, I realized that I have other beliefs. You might think them a bit syrupy, but here they are:

• I believe that a smile is infectious. We should try to start a plague TODAY.
• I believe, as did Ben Franklin, that “The Constitution only gives people the right to pursue happiness. You have to catch it yourself.”
• I believe that that we all have a choice to live in a world filled with beauty. For beauty is everywhere, in even the most mundane of things, but we must open our eyes to see it. The most beautiful part of this belief, is that every day, it is your own choice to wake up to a world of beauty…or not.
• I believe that words can be powerful tools to heal and soothe, OR they can be vicious weapons. I believe that words, once spoken, can never be undone. I believe it would be nice if politicians believed that, so we could witness a political campaign about issues instead of about what’s wrong with “the other guy.”
• I believe that if we can recognize the tiny absurdities of life, and laugh at them, we could all have joyous hearts.
• I believe that most people are inherently good (despite what the news media would have you believe). All you have to do is give them half a chance.
• I believe that giving to others is one of the most fulfilling things that a person can do. I believe that everyone likes to feel “needed,” and that giving a gift of the heart fulfills that need.
• I believe, I’m giving you a chance to give.

Marilyn has taken me up on it! She has created these lovely charms for the “Good Medicine Project.”

Aren’t those magnificent? And, she made them with her own hands!! Kudos, Marilyn.

We will be giving lucky charms like these to children at Camp Sanguinity next summer (the children are either cancer patients or the siblings of cancer patients). Do not let me hear you say, “What’s this ‘we,’ Kimosabe?” I want you to get in on the act, too. Marilyn told me:

I made these three charms. They measure about 1 and 1/2 inches at the largest dimension and they are made from Fimo which is the most durable polymer clay I’ve tested. They’ve also been coated with a couple of coats of a protective latex glaze so I think they will stand up to most abuse the kids could throw at them.

They were inspired by Shel Silverstien poems. One is a moon and star in a moon catching net. One is a wild strawberry and the other is a bat that’s afraid of the light. I went for light-hearted themes because I figured the kids could use more smiles.

I believe you might be willing to join me. Am I being naive? C’mon and find some lucky charms to send me. It can be a “scavenger hunt.”

Now, I believe I am going to go and enjoy my Saturday! I hope you enjoy yours as well.

When I was little, if I got sick, there were certain things I knew would occur. I’d be put to bed with clean sheets and plumped pillows (not that my Momma didn’t ever change the sheets!). Most likely, I would be subjected to the noxious smell of Vick’s Vaporub. Momma would serve me my meals in bed, and they invariably involved Campbell’s tomato soup with tiny oyster crackers floating in the bowl (instead of just plain saltine crackers). I could drink all the ginger ale I could hold. And, my Momma would bring out the “button box.” It was filled with “magic!”

The box of buttons was my Momma’s secret weapon for dealing with a cranky, sick child. She kept it carefully guarded in her arsenal, unless we were so sick we had to go to bed. We never got to touch it otherwise. For some reason, unknown to me at this stage of my life, we always clamored for it. I’m plumb embarrassed to tell you this, but on more than one occasion, I pretended to be sick just so I could sift through the buttons.

I could not tell you why my Momma had a button box. She didn’t sew (in fact, I have no clear recollection of her ever even sewing a button on a shirt). Maybe she kept one because her momma had one … and Grandmommy’s momma had one before that.

In days long ago, folks didn’t just take clothing down to the donation box when they no longer needed the items. When a garment had outlived its usefulness, the buttons were removed and stored, the stitches were ripped out of the seams, and the good parts of the fabric were carefully ironed and folded. That fabric was put away to await the “second coming,” when it would be incorporated into a new garment.

Momma had the good sense not to save fabric she would never use, but she darned sure saved the buttons. Maybe she kept those buttons, because she knew they were magic. At least, they certainly soothed the savage beast in us.

There were more than a thousand buttons in that round, red Christmas tin with the faded winter scene on the lid. The buttons were amazing; when we spilled them onto the bedspread, it looked like a rainbow had fallen to earth. To be sure, the box had its fair share of plain buttons from every shirt my father ever wore. But, there were buttons of every color, size, and shape you can name.

I counted buttons; I sorted buttons; I made swirling patterns on the sheets by lining up the buttons; I even practiced my addition, subtraction, and multiplication skills with those buttons. Once that button box was opened, I spent blissful hours sifting through them and I never once complained, or argued with Momma, or whined about my illness. Immersed in those brightly colored bits of ceramic and plastic, I forgot all the cares of the world.

I was thinking about Momma’s button box, as I sifted through the growing pile of “lucky charms” that I’m collecting to put into medicine bags for the “Good Medicine Project.” We will give them to children at Camp Sanguinity next summer. Those kids fight cancer (either as patients or as siblings of a cancer patient). I’m hoping they get the same enjoyment from sifting through the charms as I got from the button box. Maybe those charms will help to soothe them.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a button box would solve all our problems today? Maybe we should box up some pretty buttons and send them to government leaders in Russia, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Korea, and China, and any other country we can name. Maybe those fellows would get so involved in making pretty patterns with those buttons that they would forget about arguing and fighting?

Nah. It wouldn’t work. But, wouldn’t it be nice if we could find something as simple as a magical box of buttons?

I bet your Momma had a special treat for you when you were sick. Maybe you had one for your own kids. Tell me about it if you feel the urge. While you are having urges, I hope you feel the desire to send some charms for the Good Medicine Project!

I’m going around the house looking for lucky charms (like this “storyteller” charm, which is about an inch tall). It’s a scavenger hunt; that’s what Jamie said I am doing with this new project I envision. I need you to help me!

I was calling it The Medicine Bag Project, but she suggested just calling it “Good Medicine.” Amber, “seconded” that motion, and I think is a fine idea. “Good Medicine” it is.

What is Good Medicine? You didn’t follow the links … did you? Well, I want to get volunteers to make 140 medicine bags for children who will attend Camp Sanguinity next year. I want to fill each medicine bag with three lucky charms (and notes from the people who sent them). The kids who attend Camp Sanguinity are either cancer patients or their siblings, and you and I both know that cancer overshadows their lives. This year, we gave them wonderful granny afghans through the Share A Square Project. I’m hoping this project will be more manageable, but will still give them something they will treasure just as much. It might not warm their bodies, but I think it will warm their hearts.

I think this project might take off, especially if y’all will all go and read Jamie’s post about it, the final paragraph had both Mr. Tucker and I in tears (she has a way with words, does Jamie). It truly will be a scavenger hunt!

Already, Jamie, Barbara, Janneywan, Amber, Jessica The Rock Chick, Lola, Robin, Mental P Mama, Marilyn, and my non-blogging friend Annemarie have commented that they are interested. Miserablebliss made a tweet in Twitter about it. And, Keiko contacted me via Twitter to tell me she will help [Keiko is the one who got many women in Japan involved with Share A Square.]

Last night, a group of friends all got excited about gathering charms, so I’m betting that 10 of them participate. Heck, I may have to find another cancer camp for kids if we get too many people wanting to participate!

Now, this time around, the project won’t get it’s own website (I did that for Share A Square, and it overwhelmed me). The pictures will be put on a Flickr page, so you’ll be able to see them all there.

If you choose to participate, you can help me by taking pictures of your charms and/or bags and e-mailing it to me!

With Share A Square, I got so bogged down taking pictures that I couldn’t do updates! To see updates, you can add me to your feed by clicking on that adorable puppy dog on the sidebar. But, I won’t be talking about this all the time, so if you don’t want to read all my blabberings (do what?), just go to this page and bookmark it. Every time I update, I’ll link back to that page and it will show up as a comment.