"Tell me a story." My sister, brother and I frequently made this request of our mother. No matter what she was doing, washing dishes, baking bread, or putting us to bed at night, Mom would stir up a story from scratch. She had an enchanted imagination, and we never tired of her tales. On Saturday mornings, we could listen to stories on the radio before there was TV. We could only imagine the word pictures as we listened. Even in grade school, some of the teachers would read books after lunch. I love story time. Storytelling is a part of my heritage. It seems natural that I would take on the mantle of storyteller. I made a promise to a little boy named Bill that if he would draw me a picture of a dinosaur, I would write him a story which I did. All these years later, I share that story with you. There is some truth in the story, a mix of facts and fiction. Perhaps it makes the story more believable, especially for Bill

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