As long as I can remember, I was always trying to get my dad to talk. I knew he had friends so he must have opened his mouth at some point but it was never to me.
Dad’s love language was taking me out for breakfast every Sunday to Leroy’s Pancake Palace. When I got older, it was Mr. T’s. He’d get bacon and eggs and I’d get an omelet. He’d read the newspaper and slide the comics section over to me. No matter how old I was, he’d read the news and I’d read the comics. Sometimes I’d ask him questions about this or that trying to get him to open up but he never replied with more than a sentence or two.
Then, in the summer of 2000, I came up with an idea to get him to open up and tell me about himself. I started working on a radio story about fathers. I began interviewing all my friends about their dads. The final interview was going to be with my dad. I figured if I could get him talking about his dad, maybe he’d tell me a little about himself along the way. Plus, I knew if he heard me on the radio he’d be proud of me and maybe that would open some kind of door between us.
What surprised me at the start of this project was it seemed that no one had ever asked the question, “What do you think of when you think of your dad?” My friends had all kinds of stories about their moms but very few about their dads. It felt like dads were UFOs in their homes. Occasionally seen, but not a lot of proof they actually existed. Turns out, my dad wasn’t the only one who didn’t say much.
When people did open up, though, they shared some great stories. Some sad, some funny, many incredibly touching. Fathers of a certain generation believed in a less-is-more kind of parenting, so when they did something their kids remembered it. I couldn’t wait to interview my own dad. I knew that when he remembered spending time with his dad, he’d realize how little time he and I had spent together and we’d start hanging out more
When I finally sat him down in his favorite chair at his house in Mt. Vernon, I couldn’t wait to hear about his dad and what it was like growing up in the 1920s and 30s. Twenty minutes later I wished I hadn’t asked at all. What I thought would be stories of fishing and walking through the woods turned out to be stories of whippings and anger and working in a coal mine. My heart sank as dad told me all the things he never wanted me to hear. By the end of the interview, I was desperate to hear one good thing about my grandfather.
So I asked, “What was the best thing your dad ever did for you?”
Dad looked at me and said, “Die.”
All those years I wanted him to talk about growing up and why he was the way he was, he was protecting me. He was quiet around me because he didn’t know how else to be. If any of you have come to Fresh Ground Stories, you’ve seen my son help me set up the room and often tell stories. I’ll always feel I couldn’t have done better as a father but I know I also could have done a lot worse. One thing my son and I will always share is our love of telling stories.
So come tell a story about you and your dad. Or you and a father figure. Or you trying to figure out how to be a dad. Is your dad a stoic, a singer, a goofball, a comedian? Did he take you camping and your tent floated away when the river flooded? Did he surprise you by showing up at a father-daughter dance? Maybe he left one day and you had to be the father for your brothers and sisters. Did you turn out to be just like your dad or the complete opposite?
We’re a month late for Father’s Day but that’s ok. We haven’t done a show on this theme since 2013. Last Friday, I told a story at 7 Stories in Burien about my dad that took me a decade to get right. I’ll tell it at FGS this time because my son missed it last week. I hope some of you will join me onstage with stories of the fathers in your lives.
Remember to practice your story out loud on as many people as possible and time yourself when you’re doing it. Please don’t get onstage if you haven’t practiced your story. The audience is giving you their time and attention. It’s not fair to them if you get up there and try to wing it.
All stories have to be under 8 minutes. Stories can be as short as you want but not over 8 minutes. Stories also have to be clean in both language and content. Send me an email if you have any questions about that.
The rest of the rules and guidelines are below:
We have a free monthly online workshop that’s a great place to get feedback on your story.
https://www.meetup.com/Fresh-Ground-Stories-Storytelling-Workshop/
I’m also happy to help anyone with a story they’re working on. Send me an email and we can set up a phone call.
See you on Thursday, July 18 at 7 pm, at the Chabad of Queen Anne – Magnolia. 1825 Queen Anne Ave N, Seattle, WA 98109 (Remember, no non-kosher food in the building)
Paul
Freshgroundstories at gmail dot com
Fresh Ground Stories 