Who Tells Your Story? (7/30/2020)

I’m writing this on Saturday before you read it. Regis Philbin died today, such a popular person! So many people will talk about his impact in the coming days.

Peter Williams died today, too. You probably won’t see that on the news stations, but he had a fascinating career with so much that has probably never been told, photos without captions. I know Miles has told his story in these pages [newspaper], but I wish I had a chance to hear it all in person.

The broadway show, “Hamilton,” has a song in it called “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story” about how Alexander’s wife finished his projects and dreams while telling the story of who he was in life. The show is on Disney+ right now and it’s worth seeing, if you haven’t.

Most of us have no control over who tells our stories. People have experienced us differently than others have; there are so many facets to who we are… who will tell your story? What will they say?

For many of us, it’s our children, grandchildren, or some family. They tell our story wrapped in an obit neatly, maybe sitting with family planning a service. I’ve written things I shared in services about people I love, but my favorite stories are the ones that bubble up from deep inside me to share with my husband or my own children.

I tell the stories of my Nana and Papa, funny trips and silly things. Sitting in Memaw’s kitchen or bugging her cats, the afternoons I treasured with my great-grandmother and the experiences she shared with me about her own life growing up. I talk about family & friends from childhood, funny moments from high school and college. I tell the stories of experiencing things different than they do. People are living stories. I grew up hearing stories of people I knew and those I never met. I think this kind of history is the most precious.

There is something called Humans of New York on social media. Brandon Stanton gets snapshots of real people in their real lives. I have books that have come from that and it pulls me in, these biographies of the otherwise unknown.

Who will tell our stories? The stories from 2020, the stories of what you loved to eat and the things you couldn’t stand? My grandma wrote so much of her history, in a way she told her story in her own words. There’s something truly beautiful in that, I think. 

I used to journal years ago, but I got away from it. This year, I started teaching my children a bit about the importance of writing things down about themselves and what they are doing during this historical event. I mentioned it on Facebook and Peter thought it was a great idea. 

Readers, I encourage you to write. I don’t know who will tell your story, but I hope some of it will be your own words.