Cynthia Changaris, RIP

A bright spark in the storytelling universe

We started singing on the bus, a jubilation of storytellers at the 1992 National Storytelling Congress. We’d had a fancy dinner at Mystic Seaport, followed by a storytelling performance on this last evening of the conference. Back at the Connecticut College dorm, we sang our hearts out well into the night.

That’s where I first met Cynthia Changaris, who was always willing to lift her voice—to sing, to tell her own wonderful stories, to encourage other storytellers. I didn’t know her name or anything about her. When I next saw her, in a tent at the National Storytelling Festival, I thought, “OH! There’s the woman we all sang with!”

Later I learned that Cynthia sang all kinds of songs, from hymns to ballads to silly ditties for small children. Here’s a lovely clip of Cynthia singing, thanks to her cousin Jess:

Over the next few years, our paths crossed at conferences and festivals. I don’t know how many times I heard her say the warmest, “I’m so happy to see you. It has been too long.”

Even if I had only met up with Cynthia at conferences, that would have been enough to make a lasting impact. But wait, there’s more! After she opened the Storytellers Riverhouse B&B, on the banks of the Ohio river in southern Indiana, Cynthia and her dear friend, the also-amazing storyteller Mary Hamilton, put on WOW weekends—Working on Our Work. Small groups of storytellers would gather for a weekend of exploring stories, eating, chatting, laughing, going for walks, gazing at the river, and of course singing. I think I went to three of these.

Cynthia was also a driving force behind Going deep: the long traditional story retreat, which we dreamed up together with Olga Loya and Liz Warren. We held it at the Riverhouse three times. This epic weekend would not have happened without Cynthia and Mary (more on Going Deep in a different post, I promise). They welcomed, fed and housed, supported and cheered on performers and participants.

I don’t know why I don’t have pictures of Cynthia, but I did find this clipping in my files.

There aren’t a lot of videos of Cynthia performing. Here’s a clip of her telling one of her signature stories, Black Bubblegum. I also found an interview with her talking about stories and storytelling, on the Lexington Spellbinders blog.

Cynthia was the soul of kindness, even in times when her own life was rocky. She died on February 18. I’ll miss her.