Ask storyteller Ed Stivender why he came back to the Lititz Storytelling Festival in September 2015, and he gave a straight, if tongue-in-cheek, answer: “I’m in it for the money.”
The joke was typical of Stivender, a nationally known performer whose religious-themed humor was a hit with local audiences when he first appeared at the festival two years earlier. Even the titles of his books, “Raised Catholic (Can You Tell?)” and “Still Catholic After All These Fears,” get a laugh.
He was one of four featured performers at the festival, held at the Warwick Middle School auditorium on Maple Street.
Reading the room
Stivender, whose first job was shining shoes, taught English before becoming a full-time storyteller nearly 40 years earlier. Over those decades he built a large collection of stories, and he said he chooses what to perform only after he takes the stage.
“That decision happens when I look at who is in the audience,” he said.
His goal for the 2015 festival was to avoid repeating the pieces he had told in Lititz two years before, and to shape each set to the crowd in front of him.
“The audience really tells me where to go,” Stivender said. “Their response, laughter, uncomfortableness, gives you hints. I think of storytelling as a dance.”
The dance
That back-and-forth is the heart of the craft, he said.
“One of the skills that a good storyteller has is cuing the audience when to laugh. That cuing back and forth makes a sweet dance,” Stivender said. “For me, that’s the joy.”
He sometimes asks listeners for ideas and spins them into impromptu stories. Most of his festival material, however, consisted of his own versions of traditional folk tales, along with pieces by O. Henry and Mark Twain that he tells from memory. He also brings a banjo to add music to his performances.
One of his more unusual pieces came from a friend and fellow storyteller: a cowboy poem written in iambic heptameter, which he considered performing that weekend.
Stepping on toes
Not every performance goes smoothly. Stivender admitted that in the course of the storytelling dance he sometimes steps on toes.
“The worst stepping on toes is when they walk out on me,” he said.
That happened earlier that summer at a family program at a library in Ocean City, Maryland, when a menacing line spoken by a wizard character proved too frightening for a young girl, whose mother took her out of the room. Stivender said he tracked the pair down afterward to give the girl a free CD of his stories.
He has also faced critics who object to his religious humor. One woman, he said, accused him of working for the devil. Two weeks later, he performed for cloistered nuns in Langhorne, where he was well received.
“You certainly can’t please everyone,” he said.
Where it started
Stivender traced his career to a high school history class, where his first comedy routine got a laugh. The moment earned him a reputation as a performer and, he said, ended the bullying he had faced until then.
He noted that his own story reflects themes festival audiences would hear throughout the weekend: enduring trials, overcoming a giant, and virtue rewarded.
The festival
After teaching a workshop on Saturday morning, Stivender performed at 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. Tickets were $15 for adults and $5 for students. Organizers advised that some stories might include mature or frightening themes and might not suit young children.
The Lititz Storytelling Festival has brought tellers from across the country to town, giving residents a chance to experience one of the oldest forms of entertainment in a live setting.
Stivender’s invitation to the community was simple.
“Come, have a good time,” he said. “Come for the dance.”
This article was originally published in September 2015.