The Power of a Story
Every Friday morning, I listen with anticipation. I even change my schedule, sporadically blow drying my hair to make sure I can hear when it begins. I know it will be immediately available online, but there is something about listening to Story Corps as it is delivered "live," something about hearing a stranger pour their hearts into the airwaves each week.
For those of you who don't know,
Story Corps is the largest oral history project of its kind. Since 2003, its goal has been to provide "Americans of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to record, share and preserve the stories of our lives."
My long-time roommate and friend, Lauren, is actually the one who introduced me. Every morning for almost 4 years, we would listen to our respective radios to hear the 2-minute story of someone else's life.
There was the one about an author, the son of a janitor, whose father never said anything good about his writing—when his father died the son realized it was because his dad never learned to read. Or the one where the daughter remembers her dad, an Auschwitz survivor, telling her the real story, one that she will never be able to forget. Or the one where the young girl talks to her father about why he adopted her from China and how they are connected souls.
Every morning, we would inevitably meet in the middle of the house wiping our tears, asking more questions, smiling from ear to ear. Even though we didn't know these people, we felt connected to them and connected to each other through them. To this day, I listen to Story Corps, often immediately texting Lauren with some random thought on the day's story.
As I teared up last week, it made me think about the power of storytelling—how fleeting our lives are but how our stories intertwine with generations to come.
I guess that is one of the reasons I started this blog. Although it stands to reason that I know myself, so why am I not more proactively learning about my father's experience as a young immigrant finding his way in America after his father passed; my grandmother's life on an Indiana farm; what my mom was like as a beautiful, single nurse; or how my best friend feels about her wedding day. Or perhaps what made you who you are today.
These are things I'd like to know. Maybe as I uncover them, I'll share their stories along the way.
For those of you who don't know,
Story Corps is the largest oral history project of its kind. Since 2003, its goal has been to provide "Americans of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to record, share and preserve the stories of our lives."
My long-time roommate and friend, Lauren, is actually the one who introduced me. Every morning for almost 4 years, we would listen to our respective radios to hear the 2-minute story of someone else's life.
There was the one about an author, the son of a janitor, whose father never said anything good about his writing—when his father died the son realized it was because his dad never learned to read. Or the one where the daughter remembers her dad, an Auschwitz survivor, telling her the real story, one that she will never be able to forget. Or the one where the young girl talks to her father about why he adopted her from China and how they are connected souls.
Every morning, we would inevitably meet in the middle of the house wiping our tears, asking more questions, smiling from ear to ear. Even though we didn't know these people, we felt connected to them and connected to each other through them. To this day, I listen to Story Corps, often immediately texting Lauren with some random thought on the day's story.
As I teared up last week, it made me think about the power of storytelling—how fleeting our lives are but how our stories intertwine with generations to come.
I guess that is one of the reasons I started this blog. Although it stands to reason that I know myself, so why am I not more proactively learning about my father's experience as a young immigrant finding his way in America after his father passed; my grandmother's life on an Indiana farm; what my mom was like as a beautiful, single nurse; or how my best friend feels about her wedding day. Or perhaps what made you who you are today.
These are things I'd like to know. Maybe as I uncover them, I'll share their stories along the way.
Comments
Post a Comment