That Great Storyteller

We all know That Good Storyteller.

You and I both know one. They are the life of the party. It’s likely your favorite uncle or best friend. Perhaps it’s your nemesis, capturing the crowd in a way that fuels our jealousy. That Good Storyteller always has a perfect tale to capture a crowd and lift the corners of our lips.

I’ve read books on the subject. I’ve listened to TedTalks. How do I become that great storyteller?

“No, I can’t,” I’ve told myself forever.

I have to wait until I have that life worth telling. When I have that big moment. I’m no Erin Brockovich, Oprah Winfrey or Dalai Lama. I’ve not been that successful entrepreneur, I’ve not gone through terrible tragedies, and I’ve not invented the next big thing.

“That’s a bunch of bull,” I finally said. If Seinfeld can make a 9-season television series about nothing, I bet I’ve got something to share.

Before books and prior to paper, the sharing of stories happened daily around our dinner table. Looking further back, history was etched in the air among our tribes, told around the fire and passed through the flames of each generation. Can we re-teach ourselves how to become storytellers? Will it enrich and add more meaning to our lives? Can it help us connect with each other and put smiles on our faces?

I was the baby out of five farm kids. I grew up with That Great Storyteller, and I bet she didn’t even know it. Despite living in the middle of farmland, Rural U.S.A., my Mother painted the whole world for me. She created a deep and rich world, past the prairies for me to cast my dreams towards.

When I was growing up, my Mother went through an intense history phase. I spent hours with her traveling through the state of North Dakota visiting cemeteries, courthouses and knocking on random farmhouse doors. This was her way of gathering facts and stories to piece our family tapestry together. She was endlessly curious, even travelling to Fall Creek, Wisconsin, where the original Gusts homesteaded from Germany to America. And this was just for her husband’s family lineage: she had equal effort on her own family history!

Imagine my Mom’s surprise the day she found the original Frederick Wilhelm Gust family photo from 1910 in an old farm shed. The photo was saved from soon-to-be water damage, but the ornate frame was badly chipped and broken. I thought she would toss it, but instead she collaborated with her friend and fellow fixer Karen. Together they came up with a plan to rebuild the frame. I watched her day after day at the dining room table, where she carefully laid out the frame and crafter supplies of putty, pliers, carving knives, glues and gold paint. The progress was slow, working on one curve or tiny flower petal at a time. Eventually, she was satisfied and along with my Dad’s help, hung the restored photo proudly in our living room. It became a storytelling piece with every guest who stepped foot in our farmhouse.

At least once a week, my Mom made me practice the names of all of my Great Aunts, Uncles and Great Grandparents. I would never know their stories beyond this single picture, but the love that my Mother placed within the photo and frame made me love each of these static relatives. I wondered a lot about this photo. I wondered about each of their lives. I wondered about why they couldn’t smile. Did they smile in real life? What made them smile? What were their days like, back in 1910?

Today is the day. I am a Storyteller. No more how-to books. I’m going to do it – together with your help.

And you know what? I bet you are a Storyteller too. Let’s tell stories together. Let’s weave together a rich tapestry of our everyday lives in this virtual community bonfire.

So, tell me. Who is That Good Storyteller in your life?  

I’m listening, here across the flickering flames.