Last week Ray and I went to hear Malcolm Gladwell talk. We have enjoyed his books and thought we might like to hear and see him in person. It was a wonderful evening. If you have not read his books or his articles in the New Yorker, I can only describe him as a storyteller/sociologist. He takes a simple idea and explores what we believe about that idea and why we might not be seeing the whole picture and how we might see that simple idea in a different way once we have explored all the elements. Could be very dull, but he is far from dull because he is such a skilled storyteller. Every idea is illuminated by a story. And standing on the stage of the Schnitzer Auditorium the other evening he spun out another true story that wound around in unexpected ways and painted a mental picture more vivid than most television. You can get a sense of the kind of storyteller he is from this recent TED talk.
(If you like this one, check out his talk about what makes us happy and spaghetti sauce.)
Anyway, he got me thinking about the skill of telling a story. Really, about the power of a well-told story. Most of us, if we are lucky, grow up on stories. There was nothing I loved more as a child than hearing my mother or father, both of whom were good story tellers, talk about their childhoods. My grandmother was an exceptionally good storyteller and hearing her descriptions of life on a Montana ranch or as a young, widowed mother scratching out a livelihood in Seattle were better than fiction. Did she ever say to me "work hard and you will win the respect of others" ? No. She did not. But her stories did. Did she ever try to impress upon me that I must always be honest and open with others? No, but her deep belief in honesty and integrity came through her stories in a way that made a greater impression than preaching ever would.
As a longtime blogger I read a lot of advice about how to blog better. Much of it is about gaining more readers with gimmicks and novelty and it seems there is always the admonition that one's blog must offer more and better information than the run of the mill blog. Hmmm. Well maybe. Does that mean we should all be creating those lists, like "Twenty five ways to improve your free-motion stitching" or "The top ten reasons no one is buying your art." And I think, "what do I like to find when I read a blog?" A story. Tell me a good story and I am your faithful reader.
I sometimes begin to write a blog entry and find myself telling a story. It is part of who I am, I guess. I know I use this blog to tell my story. Self-indulgent perhaps, but I am always heartened when I hear from readers who see themselves in my story or tell me they laughed—or cried. And even more, I love when you tell your stories. As I think about it, it may be the best thing we do as humans—in our writing, in our art, around the table or the campfire, in our lives. We tell our stories.
Photos, because I think all blog posts need photos. Top of the post—outside the studio door. Bottom of the post — morning walk this week.
Thank you for the introduction to Malcolm Gladwell ... and your beautiful photos. My grandfather was the story teller in my family. I'm only sorry that I lived most of my life far away from him and that I didn't have a tape recorder when I was close to him. He was a wonderful and interesting man and he told stories of covered wagons, indians, community shared copper cooking pots, and so many other things that my faulty memory does not allow me to recall.
ReplyDeleteSo true! Nothing better than a tale told by someone who enjoys the telling. Been reading your blog for years...maybe it's because it's so personable. I tend to stop reading info-only blogs. They put me to sleep.
ReplyDeleteOh, and I love the pictures too. They add a lot!
Terry, you are one of the best story tellers I know. It is always fun to sit an listen to you tell a tale from your life - some I have heard more than once, but they are always worth listening to. I envy that skill you have.
ReplyDeleteTerry, you are one of the best story tellers I know. It is always fun to sit an listen to you tell a tale from your life - some I have heard more than once, but they are always worth listening to. I envy that skill you have.
ReplyDeleteI grew up on stories, just like you described. Not didactic ones, but ones that stuck with me and shaped my life and my ethics. Too many to begin to recount. Some stories made traumatic events tolerable, because they were turned into things people could laugh at instead of brood over. Others just clarified for everyone what morality looked like (my father's oft confession that he took some washers from his workplace and had to take them back; his question to us about whether we paid our student loans and our aghast response that "Of course we did -- we aren't welchers." Both my sisters are better story-tellers than I am, and laughter is the biggest ingredient, along with a lot of self-deprecation, or unveiling of how good other people are in unexpected ways. Oh, you can tell, I love stories.
ReplyDeleteAnyone who can tell a story about storytelling is a master of the art. And you are. Thanks for blogging and being an over-the-miles friend. Love, Del
ReplyDeleteWe were lucky to grow up in a rural area by the sea, surrounded by a large extended family of farmers and townspeople, with many storytellers - we knew the characters and many of the places because the family had settled in one place for a long time. My Dad was a great raconteur, as was an uncle of Irish descent - when they got together, there were always stories, many very funny, although they might all have been true. Dad told us stories about his time in the navy during WW II that were more about the exotic places he visited around the Indian and Pacific oceans than the very real danger they were in, and there lots of stories of life on the farm where he grew up, and adventures all through his life. Mum told great stories about how they managed at home during the war, when she was a teenager, and her mother was a great source of stories from 'the olden days'. My mother is now in her eighties, still lives in the small town here she was born and has lived all her life - she works twice a week as a volunteer in the family history centre, where she is often called upon to help visitors with details of times past, local families and events, and changes in the town. Turns out she is a gifted historian - another way of telling stories. I too will follow up your reference to Malcolm Gladwell - he sounds like my kind of storyteller too. Jill (Sydney)
ReplyDeleteMy grandparents didn't tell us many stories but I remember all the ones they did tell. The boat trip from Europe, how my grandfather got his name, Balthazar. I would tell the story of being left in charge of the fishing lines on Lake Erie when my dad took my brother to the restroom. Hilarious story. I will share it someday soon. Because, dear Terry, you may not have the "numbers" but you have so very many friends. And we'll be with you--well, for as long as you tell us stories.
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