Tell Us a Story?

Have I ever told you about the time Glenn put a smoke bomb in Billie’s tool box? No? It’s a great story. You might not believe this but I have actually had a few jobs that involved almost nothing but manual labor. One of those gigs was at a car stereo shop. Glenn was the boss. At the tender age of 23, he was the oldest employee and only slightly more mature than the rest of us. We did lots of really stupid stuff, some of which involved fireworks. This one time, Billie is working on some car and has his tool box on the roof of the car. Mature Glenn remembers that he still has a smoke bomb left over from the time a customer came in with a trunk load of fireworks—most of which we bought and then used to have a fireworks fight in the shop! So Glenn decides he’ll sneak over and put the smoke bomb in Billie’s box. So, he lights the thing and drops it in Billie’s tool box, closes the lid, and slips away. We’re all waiting for the smoke to start pouring out when there’s a BOOM, followed immediately by sockets and screw drivers and other small tools raining down all over the shop! Turns out that smoke bombs and cherry bombs look a lot alike. I wish you could have seen that tool box! What had just seconds before been rectangular was now nearly round—and without a lid.

Nice story, yeah? Is it true? Absolutely. Is everything in the story historically accurate? Who cares? Stories aren’t true because they accurately present facts. How boring is that? No, stories are true by connecting us in the great big story that is our lives. Admit it; I had you at “Have I ever told you about the time . . .” Why? Because humans are story-tellers. It’s not what we do, it’s who we are. That’s what this “blog,” this wee tiny corner of cyber land is all about.

I am an ally and an advocate for social justice. It has been my life’s work. But I have for too long tried saving the world on Facebook and previous versions of this blog. I will forever fight the good fight for social justice, for peace, for equality; I just won’t do it here anymore. Long before I answered the call to take a stand for Truth, I was busy telling the truth through stories. I don’t know how not to tell stories. I think it’s the same for you. Because we are story-tellers. It’s how we remember where we’ve been as a species and who we are as beings in the enormity of space and time.

So, if you want political arguments, meet me at the pub of your choice (that’s near me) and you can buy us drinks all night and we’ll talk politics. But, it will still be an evening of stories. How could it not be?

We are story telling animals, “homo narrans.” That’s what’s going on here. Stories of all kinds, all true simply by being told.

So I’ll be telling you stories. Not all will look like stories. Some might look more like an essay. Still a story. On very rare occasions, I’ll share something that might resemble poetry (or not). Still a story. Sometimes every word you read will be historically accurate as far as my memory can go. Sometimes not a single word will have any historicity. Still true. And please don’t bother asking; since “accuracy” is irrelevant, you needn’t worry about figuring out what’s historical and what’s not. Still stories. Still true.

And maybe sometimes you’ll share a story.

Have I ever told you about the time . . .