Stories Are Everywhere

(Originally posted via Tumblr, April 29, 2010: https://beorthogonal-blog.tumblr.com/post/557923277/stories-are-everywhere)

About a month ago my mother glances at me and says, “You know what your problem is?”

          “Uh, no. What is my problem?” As a 33-year-old with a small child, I can honestly tell you how little I appreciate being lectured in any form or fashion by my mother. I could hear the litany of complaints and failures in the back of my mind, before she even uttered another word. But, that’s not what happened; instead she said something I wasn’t expecting.

          “You don’t talk enough. Even as a kid, I’d ask you how your day went and you would answer in one word. That’s a problem.” I had a quick running slideshow in my head playing of all the times I barely replied to “How did your day go, honey?” and “What did you learn today in school, sweetheart?” Now fast-forward to the conversations with bosses I should have had but didn’t and the boyfriends who would eventually say “I never know where I stand with you, you don’t tell me.” That last one happened more times than I care to admit. 

          It came as a shocking realization, this not talking “problem.” Because, you see, I am ALWAYS talking. I just don’t verbalize what I am thinking like some people do. But since I am not verbalizing as much as others that puts me in great form to listen to others. 

          I’ve had people come up to me in stores and enrapture me with their life story for thirty or more minutes. Some people would be annoyed by this type of behavior from a perfect stranger, but I usually become so engrossed in what people have to say that I listen and will often learn something from them. One thing that I’ve learned from these experiences, and it’s fairly consistent throughout, is everyone has a story. Everyone. While people think they have nothing interesting to say, or nothing new to add to the collective stream of stories already out there; your story is unique and it’s unique because your perspective is wholly your own. 

          Here’s a quick inconsequential story for illustration.

          When I was in my teens I sat next to a homeless man and offered him my French fries. He held one in-between his thumb and pointer finger and said, “French fries tease and taunt people. I don’t understand them. Eating one at a time, it is so slow and hardly worth the effort.”

          Every time I eat a French fry I think of that man. My perspective of a French fry is so vastly different from his. I have been fortunate enough to never know what it is like to be poverty-stricken and extremely hungry, and therefore, don’t have the same viewpoint on snack food items. For him, snack foods have no meaning. He desires sustenance that will quickly assuage his appetite, thus alleviating his hunger pains. To me, French fries are fun and yummy. To him, not so much.

Before I left French fry guy said, “I’ve seen you around, with your dog, jogging on the street.” At first I was alarmed and fingered the can of Mace in my purse like it was my lifeline. Then, because of his demeanor, I came to realize he was simply respectfully acknowledging my presence, albeit in a socially awkward way. Just as I acknowledged his presence by sitting down to eat with him.

          Now when I see homeless people I think twice before committing to turn away from them. If I have food with me, I offer it, and I am grateful I have a home and food in the refrigerator. More importantly, when you acknowledge someone’s presence in the world you open doorways into views on life and living which would be otherwise unheard and lost. I’ve taken that encounter’s lesson with me everywhere I go. I believe the most important lesson in life is to learn and understand.