I Surround Myself With Storytellers
I grew up in a tiny Mississippi town nestled near the southern part of the Pearl River. A marina used to stand across the street from the house I grew up in (pre-Katrina). My grandmother's house was about a mile & a half up the road, behind the small yellow Catholic church.
Most Saturdays were spent on a boat in the river, either fishing or water skiing. Every Sunday we would go to church, then walk over to my grandmother's house and sit in the back yard under the massive old oak trees. The adults would talk over a couple of beers (always in koozies), and the kids would either play in the pea gravel or run up to the grassy point and pick blackberries or strawberries until my grandmother would yell at us. It was here that I learned the value of a good story.
My aunts & uncles had hard lives. They would all gather in a circle, some in the porch swing, others laid back in old dollar store canvas chairs. I would hide behind the folding lawn chair and listen as they relived their childhood antics. Do you remember when Charlie did this? Or Neice did that? And then there was the time Leona did this, and Mary Ruth, well, ha, ha,ha... As they would drink more, the stories became more animated, more lively, and a little more inappropriate for children. About that time, my parents would kiss everyone goodbye and we'd head home.
I love the stories. And as I grew up, I surrounded myself with people who tell stories the same way. Attention to detail, animated motions, and most importantly, heart. It wasn't a conscious decision, I just gravitate to that kind of person. Someone who can help me escape reality a few moments at a time, and take me to a place that meant something to someone.
You would think, as time progresses, that people like this would be easy to find, but it's actually getting harder for me. People get so wrapped up in NOW, that they forget the moments that make their life special. Perhaps that's why it's so hard for me to truly connect with people. I want to hear the stories, not the complaining. I want to know the person, not what you think I want to hear. I want to truly connect, not just small talk.
It's a lofty expectation for someone you just meet.
Most Saturdays were spent on a boat in the river, either fishing or water skiing. Every Sunday we would go to church, then walk over to my grandmother's house and sit in the back yard under the massive old oak trees. The adults would talk over a couple of beers (always in koozies), and the kids would either play in the pea gravel or run up to the grassy point and pick blackberries or strawberries until my grandmother would yell at us. It was here that I learned the value of a good story.
My aunts & uncles had hard lives. They would all gather in a circle, some in the porch swing, others laid back in old dollar store canvas chairs. I would hide behind the folding lawn chair and listen as they relived their childhood antics. Do you remember when Charlie did this? Or Neice did that? And then there was the time Leona did this, and Mary Ruth, well, ha, ha,ha... As they would drink more, the stories became more animated, more lively, and a little more inappropriate for children. About that time, my parents would kiss everyone goodbye and we'd head home.
I love the stories. And as I grew up, I surrounded myself with people who tell stories the same way. Attention to detail, animated motions, and most importantly, heart. It wasn't a conscious decision, I just gravitate to that kind of person. Someone who can help me escape reality a few moments at a time, and take me to a place that meant something to someone.
You would think, as time progresses, that people like this would be easy to find, but it's actually getting harder for me. People get so wrapped up in NOW, that they forget the moments that make their life special. Perhaps that's why it's so hard for me to truly connect with people. I want to hear the stories, not the complaining. I want to know the person, not what you think I want to hear. I want to truly connect, not just small talk.
It's a lofty expectation for someone you just meet.
posted by Kristie at 6:54 AM
1 Comments:
What are people?
Ya, it seems the bigger the town the faster the pace and the less time there is to just sit and talk. The phrase, "It's 10 minutes to the mall," is a joke around here. It takes at least 30 minutes to walk across the street.
Ugggghhhh, now you got me all worked up and wanting to go home.
~Jef
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