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.
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)
Thanks to everyone who came out last Thursday. It was great to look out over the audience and see a full house. I might be hitting up Craigslist and getting more folding chairs 🙂
I somehow managed to forget to say at the start of the evening that I record the audio of the show and that anyone who told a story can write me for a copy. If anyone knows a first-timer who told last week, please let them know.
We began the show with David telling the story of going to the battlefield in Europe where his dad was wounded in WWII. He was met there by a friend whose uncle was a German POW on the Russian front. It was a story of healing and forgiveness. I was struck not only by the purposefulness of David’s journey but also that two descendants from opposite sides of the bloodiest war in human history could come together as friends. Nothing is ever over and nothing lasts forever. Thank you, David, for that beautiful story.
Annie, our first first-timer, learned at a young age that if you want to be loved and admired you need to get famous. I fell for that too! Now, after doing standup and some writing, Annie’s onstage telling stories. I didn’t get a chance to tell Annie after the show that if there’s a vaccine against fame it’s storytelling. Luckily, all the love I looked for in my own comedy career I found in storytelling. I hope you felt the love from the audience that night, Annie.
Dru was up next with a story about her adventures in gambling. If there’s one thing all gamblers have in common it’s the ability to forget their losses. It turns out that Dru was also pretty good at that, right up until she couldn’t pretend anymore. Nothing tempts fate like telling everyone how lucky you are. I loved that Dru brought her husband to the show. I hope one day he gets up and tells the story of what it was like on the other side of that.
Next up was Rebecca, our second first-timer, and someone I’ve been wanting to hear a story from for a while now. She told a story about stealing a roll of butterscotch Lifesavers from the local grocery store when she was a kid and the long drive back with her mom when she got caught. It has to be at least 30 years since that happened but she still remembers how it felt to put that half-eaten pack of Lifesavers on the counter and apologize. That’s the part I’m still thinking about four days later. Her story reminds me of the crime spree I went on from 1984-88. The reasons I did it are too complicated to get into here, but I still feel guilty about what I did. The only way I’ve been able to live with those memories is to say to myself, “Feel bad, do better.” I can’t make amends to people I hurt who I never even knew, but I can keep making up for what I did in the years since. Thank you, Rebecca, for letting me know I’m not the only one who still thinks about the times I wish I’d done better.
Rebecca and her partner Nick (see below) host a wonderful storytelling show in Shoreline called Bar Stories Live Onstage. Some of the best tellers in Seattle go there regularly. Even if you don’t have a story to share, you’re going to have a great time.
Paul B was up next with a story I asked him to tell when I heard an early version of it months ago. Every now and then I hear a story in the wild and ask the teller to bring it to FGS, regardless of the theme that month. I knew as soon as I heard this one that I wanted everyone at our show to experience it. The story was about the time he entered a karate tournament as a way to deal with his depression. Even though 4 out of 5 doctors recommend against getting punched in the face to deal with mental illness, Paul somehow made it work for him.
As someone who has had his own battles with the black dog, one thing that has never failed to help is the commitment to an act of courage no matter how small. I never tested myself in the ring but I’ve made small talk with strangers that felt like walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls. Sometimes getting onstage and telling a story that I’m terrified to share is what pulls back the veil of melancholy and reminds me there’s a world out there worth engaging in. A lot of Paul’s stories are about courage, even though he may not know it. Whenever I hear him tell, he makes me want to dig deeper in my own stories and test my courage even more.
If you’d like to hear more from Paul, he’s on the latest episode of “The Wild with Chris Morgan”
And if you’d like to read about his 750-mile hike through the mountains of Japan, get a copy of his book, “Fighting Monks and Burning Mountains – Misadventures on a Buddhist Pilgrimage.”
S, our next teller, almost didn’t come because she wasn’t sure she was ready to share the most personal story she’s ever told. I won’t repeat the story here because the whole internet doesn’t need access to it, but it was universal enough for many of us to have experienced it ourselves and unique enough to be completely hers. It was the story of the mental health challenges she’s lived with for 17 years.
Like all great stories on this subject, it was told from a place of strength. What struck me most was by the end of the story she was speaking in the present tense. She could have told us that all her struggles were in the past and that life was all Pop-Tarts and pancakes now. But she didn’t. She still works every day to stay positive. Honesty is the spark of connection. S, in her first story with FGS, connected with a lot of us that night. Thank you, S.
Brian was up next with a story about his dog Rex. I laughed when a knowing chuckle went through the audience when he said Rex was a Goldendoodle. Clearly, there is something going on with Goldendoodles that I will have to Google later. As I listened to Brian’s story, I realized his relationship with Rex was the same that I had with my old cat, Sneak. I was mostly a food delivery system and a heater of cushions for him to lay down on as soon as I got up. There wasn’t a lot of love coming back. Because of this, it made no sense that when Sneak died I spent the whole ride home from the vet trying not to cry. As Brian was getting choked up at the end of his story with Rex, I was right back in my car driving home without Sneak. How do pets do this to us?? Thank you, Brian, for a great story with lots of laughs and a lot of heart.
Deborah then told a story that I might have identified with a little too much. Sometimes it’s hard not to be snarky when you offer to make a meal for someone and then have to deal with their dietary restrictions. Deborah, though, did something that most of us would not do. She saw it as an opportunity for kindness. She admitted this was not her usual take on situations like this but something inside her that day made her want to stop before she said something she’d regret.
So she changed up the menu and made a vegan lunch with gluten-free bread. And do you know what happened next? She was rewarded with heartfelt gratitude. When was the last time any of us did something inconvenient just to spread a little kindness in the world? Grace and patience, people. That’s where it’s at. Thank you, Deborah, for showing us what that looks like.
Nick was up next with a story of what happens when you’re a freshman in high school and don’t remember the one-month anniversary with your first girlfriend. We learned two important things from Nick that night. #1 Never buy an anniversary gift from the Hallmark store. This doesn’t work when you’re 50 and works even less when you’re 14. #2 Don’t let the radio DJ at Z100 pick the dedication song to make up for the Hallmark ornament. I’d tell you what the song was but then it would be in your head for the next 20 years like it’s been with Nick. I like that a lot of Nick’s stories are cautionary tales. They’re like those after-school TV specials that warned us against smoking banana peels behind the dumpster at the Piggly-Wiggly. Thank you, Nick, for showing us what’s at stake if we forget an anniversary.
Ashley, our next teller, has more death-defying stories than all the rest of us put together. She has no stories of puppies, or knocking over a bowl of Cheerios. Ashley is always this close to squished, squashed, or flattened. Her story Thursday night was about riding on the outside of a subway train and narrowly missing the deadly 3rd rail. If you don’t know about the third rail you either didn’t grow up on the East Coast or grow up with a parent who did. The third rail is the rail that’s electrified and pushes the train down the tracks. You can touch rails one and two and live a long healthy life. Touch rail three and you’re going to light up like the Vegas strip on New Year’s. Thank you, Ashley, for letting us live vicariously through your adventures. If I did half the things you’ve done there’d be a memorial wing at Harborview named after me.
Gretchen, our second-to-last teller, told the story of the real reason she hasn’t sung in public since her 8th grade Christmas recital. Before karaoke, before America’s Got Talent, back in the shadowy past of yesteryear, there was 8th grade choir and Mrs. Grimm. Is there a better name for a tyrannical choir director than Mrs. Grimm? I think not. At the end of her story, Gretchen treated us to the long lost, never sung, alto harmony part of Little Drummer Boy that she lip-synced to 50 years ago. It only lasted 10 seconds but it was worth the wait.
Mike, our final teller, took a break from winning Moth slams to come tell a new story with us about how he tried to fit in with the cool kids in his last year of college at UW. Mike majored in electrical engineering so you know the low level of cool he achieved by graduation. In the end, we learned that Mike should have listened to his mom and just been himself. We also learned about Fourier’s Transom, which was on the final that Mike got a 10 on. A 10 as in 10%. Mike still doesn’t know what Fourier’s Transom is but I do thanks to Wikipedia. It’s a “mathematical model that helps to transform signals between two different domains.” I hope that clears things up.
Thank you, Mike, for another wonderful story. We love you no matter what grades you get.
Big thanks to everyone who came out and told a story or supported the ones who did. Our next show is July 18. The theme is “Dads.” I’ll get the invite out as soon as I can.
There are two great story shows I want to tell you about coming up in the next few weeks. I’ll be telling at both of them so you should come say hi 😊
This Friday in Burien I’ll be telling at 7 Stories. Come see me rewrite a story from 10 years ago that I never really got right. I think I finally got this one figured it out.
One of our first-timer tellers from earlier this year just started a new show in Issaquah called Story Sphere. Their first show is July 12. I’ll be telling a story there along with a bunch of other amazing tellers. Come out and support this new show!
Someone in my house just tested positive for COVID so I’m canceling tonight’s show and pushing it to our next scheduled date which is June 20. I’m feeling fine but our venue is pretty small I want to be cautious. I don’t want to get anyone sick a week from now. I’d feel terrible about that.
We’ll keep the same theme so anyone who was working on a story for tonight can tell the same one at the next show.
In the meantime, if you’d like to get your story fix, our good friends at 7 Stories in Burien are holding their next show on Friday, May 24. If I’m healthy, I’ll be there cheering them on and maybe telling an old story that I’m reworking.
I hate canceling shows, especially since I know a bunch of you have stories you were bringing. If you were thinking of telling a story but didn’t have time to work on it, now you do! And you even have time to bring it to our amazing free online workshop June 2 🙂
Have a great weekend. Come down to 7 Stories a week from tomorrow if you can. It’s a sweet bunch of people who show up there. I’m crossing my fingers that I’ll be healthy and see you there.
≈ Comments Off on FGS: Coming Clean – Stories about being honest with yourself
For most things, I’ve been a late bloomer. Girlfriends, college, a job that pays enough to live on. I haven’t seen ET yet and I still go to the bank to deposit a check. I was 51 before I had a car that would start every morning.
One thing I did early, though, was become a parent. I was 23 when my son was born and sometimes I feel like we grew up together. Twenty-three seems awfully young from where I’m sitting now. What happens when you have a kid early is that your friends start having kids right about the time yours is moving out of the house.
That’s when I got to sit back and laugh at all my tired forty-something friends running down to Albertson’s at 9:00 at night in a Mercedes to buy a 24-pack of Pampers. The next day they’d call me and ask how I managed to survive doing it on my own in an ‘85 Toyota Corolla.
Every time someone would ask me “how I did it” I’d stumble through some hackneyed response like, “Just keep showing up” or “You’d be surprised what you can do when you don’t have a choice.”
But after a while, I started wondering why anyone would ask me for parenting advice. Most of them had never met my son, or even been to the house when he was growing up. They had no idea if I’d done a good job. All they ever heard were the good stories. The time Taran and I got chased around a campsite by an angry hummingbird. The evening walks down to the pond to hear the frogs singing.
Then I realized I’d never asked my son the one question every parent thinks but never says out loud. “What did I do wrong?”
As soon as I thought it, I pushed it back down. Could I even handle that answer? It’s too late to do anything about it so why even bother? I knew I’d ask him, though. No matter how bad the answer was, I knew I needed to hear it. I don’t like running scared from something and this had me scared.
So I called him up. I told him about all the people who’d asked me for parenting advice and how I wasn’t sure that I was qualified to give it. Then I said it. “What did I do wrong as a parent?”
He answered quickly, “You did great, dad.”
“No, really. We’ve had enough arguments and slammed doors. What should I have done better.”
“Dad, you did fine.”
In five seconds I’d gone from great to fine. Now I had to know. I had to take my medicine.
“Seriously, son. What did I do wrong?”
“Dad, you did the best you could.”
Ugh, Now I’m not even fine. I’m down to “did the best you could.”
I asked him one more time and said to take a few days to think about it. He paused for a bit and said he’d get back to me.
A week later he called back. He said, “I wish you hadn’t kept saying, ‘How can you not know this?’”
And then I remembered all the times I’d said that. And it hurt. It hurt to know I’d said it and it hurt even more to know how many times I’d said it. ”How can you not know that?” is very close to “How can you be so stupid?” It sounds like a genuine question but it’s not. It’s a steel pipe wrapped in a pool noodle. It looks harmless but it leaves a big bruise.
So I apologized. And felt terrible for weeks. For a long time after that, when someone asked me how I made it through 20 years of raising my kid alone I told them I had no idea. I said I did my best and hoped my son was still talking to me at the end of the day, even though sometimes he wasn’t.
Last week, a friend told me she wasn’t sure if she’d said the right thing to her daughter. I asked her if she thought what she’d said had brought her closer or pushed her away. She said it was going to take a while to find out. We can’t always do things that bring people closer. Sometimes we have to stand our ground and say what needs to be said, even if it pushes someone away. I wish I’d chosen those moments more carefully with my son. He’s 33 now and closer to me than I was to my dad at that age. So I guess I did ok. If you come to the show, you know that he helps me set up the room and sometimes even tells a story. We have an unwritten rule between us that we’ll never tell a story that would hurt the other person. Those are the only stories either of us wants to tell.
And that’s the kind of story we’re looking for at our next show. Come tell a story about having to be honest with yourself. What made you do it? Did you put it off for years or dive in immediately to get it done? Were you alone in a room or did you have to walk up to someone? How did the experience change you?
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.
Workshops are a great way to get feedback on a story you’re working on. Here is one I highly recommend. It’s run by two wonderful storytellers who have told many times at FGS and other shows in the area:
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, May 16 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)
What a great show we had Thursday! I was a little worried at first since the room was completely empty at 6:30. A handful of people wandered in at 6:45. And then suddenly at 6:55 we had a full house. Do you guys all ride the same bus??
Whatever the reason, I’m grateful to every person who showed up. We had three first-time tellers and our first sibling act. What a treat that was. Before I get to the wrap-up, I want to thank everyone who helped put the heavy wooden chairs away in the basement after the show. I don’t know who organized that or how it came about but it was a huge help.
Zoe, one of our regular tellers, started us off with a sweet story about moving from NYC to Seattle in 1996. How does anyone decide where to move? There are so many things to consider and judge. Which is more important, affordability or weather? Culture or career? Four seasons or good Thai food? Luckily, Seattle passed all Zoe’s tests and she’s called the PNW her home for the last 28 years.
Archana, a first-timer, told a beautiful story of growing up in Bangalore with her friend Gulmohar and what she taught her about finding a place where you belong. I met Archana last month when she came to her first FGS. She was so touched by the stories she heard that she committed to telling her own story with us at the next show. Her story was so sweet and poignant that it reminded me of something I read once, “The shortest distance between two people is a story.” I hope she tells more with us.
Emily was next with a story about the many battles she’s had teaching boys named Christian. I love when teachers get up and tell stories. I feel like they’re part of a secret society that the rest of us can never be part of or understand until we spend a year in a room trying to teach pre-teens English. I don’t know how being a teacher compares to other secret societies like the Masons or the Knights Templar, but I like to pretend they have just as many cryptic rituals and secret handshakes. Hopefully, a movie with Nicolas Cage looking for lost gold under an elementary school is in the works.
Kate, another first-timer, told a story about the joys of throwing prunes at strangers. Granted, she was a young girl at the time and the prunes came from the tree in her back yard and she was technically just throwing them at the yard across the street. But when the toss goes short, and the prune flies through an open window of a passing car, it does become “throwing fruit at strangers.” And does that ever get old? No, it does not. I remember throwing crabapples at cars when I was a kid and I still remember the rush of terror when the car would slam on the brakes and we’d all run for our lives.
Robert, one of our new regular tellers, told us about getting caught for speeding in South Carolina in an army vehicle painted with radar-resistant paint. I’m no physicist, but I don’t think that’s how radar works. Good try, though, Robert! Even the judge was impressed with his excuse and decided not to take any points off his driving record. Robert is also Kate’s brother so you know Thanksgiving at their house has got to be full of stories 🙂
Dru, our final first-time teller, told a hysterical story about her husband getting cancer. Yes, it’s possible to tell a funny cancer story. Dru is proof of that. Not only did her husband survive cancer, they both got to spend time in a city they love, Seattle. Yay for Fred Hutch and groundbreaking cancer treatments! You know what we say around here. Come for the culture, stay for the chemo.
Simar was next with a beautiful story about flying kites as a child in India. Did you know that kite flying over there isn’t the low-key meditative pastime it is in the US? According to Simar, it’s a melee in the sky where everyone tries to cut each other’s strings. And Simar is, according to…well, Simar, the King of Kites. He is truly masterful at wiping out other kites. I think we need to test this. Is anyone up for a battle royale in the skies over Seattle? If I can get three other people to join me, I’ll drive up from Olympia and challenge Simar. I’m serious. Write me at freshgroundstories at gmail dot com and let’s see if we can take on the Kitemaster.
Simar’s story of course was about more than just kite flying. It was about coming to America many years ago and creating a new life for himself. It was about going back to his hometown and realizing it wasn’t home anymore. And in my mind, it was a little bit about how hard it can be to form relationships in a new town. Telling stories has always helped me make friends wherever I go. I’m always so happy when I find out that people who met at FGS have ended up forming real friendships. So I’m serious about coming up to Seattle and flying kites. Let’s see if Simar still has his kite chopping chops.
Gretchen, our final teller, told the story of moving to Seattle from Minnesota many years ago and ending up on Bainbridge island. The relationship with her girlfriend she moved there with ended but her relationship with Seattle endures. If I could, I’d thank that old girlfriend of hers for bringing Gretchen to us.
Before I let you go, I want to remind you of all the great storytelling opportunities going on right now.
This month’s 7 Stories show is this Friday in Burien. I love this show. I went there last month to work on an old story and had a great time. Join their Meetup so you get their invites. They have two themes this month, “Duped” and “Aha.” You don’t need to tell a story to attend. You can just show up and cheer on the tellers.
Paul Barach, one of Seattle’s finest storytellers, just got a story on Out There podcast. I knew this story was going to be great when he told me an early version of it a few months ago. I was right. It is great.
Out There is always looking for new stories of the outdoors so if you have one get in touch with them.
Chris Spengler, who has told with us for many years, will be appearing at Folklife this year. Congratulations Chris! Check out the schedule to find out the day and time.
Sometime in the next month or so, NAMI’s annual fundraiser, The Brainpower Chronicles, will be accepting stories from people living successfully with mental illness. If you’re chosen to share your story, you’ll get to tell your story onstage at the Kirkland Performing Arts Center in November. I was in the first BPC years ago and it was a wonderful experience. Keep checking their website for news on how to apply.
That’s all for now. I hope you can make it to our next show on May 16. The theme is, “Coming Clean – Stories of being honest with yourself.” I’ll get the invite out as soon as I can.
If you miss our monthly workshop, I’m always available to help with a story. Send me an email at freshgroundstories at gmail dot com and we can set up a call.
I hope you’re all having a great weekend. See you next month!
Fresh Ground Stories 