STORIES ARE EVERYWHERE. IF YOU DON’T PAY ATTENTION and reach out to grab them, you might spend months or more wondering ‘what could that story have been?’ I’ve missed many stories recently and I’m not going to get them back. That’s a shame because they were ripe for the plucking: the stories of people just met; the stories I’ve known of for many years but did nothing to take them when they were ready; the stories I could find if I only went out to find them.
Last year I found myself half way up a mountain in the former East Germany. Myself and my fellow trekkers had come out into a clearing where acres of flattened pine trunks created a barren view up the slope. The rain lashed down and we took refuge in a small hikers’ hut. I sat near an older couple and we dripped in the close air. Eventually the man discovered I was English, and he spoke some English too. He told a few tales of his childhood in the former DDR, how things were very different before the German unification. I should have stayed longer and listened more. When am I going to meet an East German with his stories again?
Earlier this year I visited my elderly grandmother. I hadn’t seen her for a couple of years and hadn’t realised how frail she’d become. I wanted to ask her about all the stories of generations past, stories she’d sown like seeds across the huge family for years now. Her brain was sharp enough, sharper than expected, but there were great long pauses and some confusions. She gave me the outline stories of long-dead ancestors: of Irish grandparents; of her young and beautiful but tragic mother; of her own grandmother, the Algerian or Moroccan wife of her bigamist grandfather. Algerian? Moroccan? My uncle said the details change with every telling now.
Out there in the world and on doorsteps and street corners, and everywhere in between, is the possibility of stories. There is a story that’s ready to spring from every person. Everyone wants to tell a story of themselves, an experience, their loves or fears, their dream or their tragedy. Not everyone has the willing listener. Writers must be willing listeners.
Perhaps the writer who misses stories shouldn’t regret this – what can be done about things that have gone? – but perhaps a gentle lament is in order. People just met can take you by surprise, but always be ready for the tale that that surprise promises. Do also take the seeds of stories family and friends offer up: one day, the years will catch up on them. Whilst you’re motivated, go out and find the stories of the world. Seize them and the day.
– Dean Cody Cassady
