Stories

Saturday, March 11

I truly believe that I was blessed with a wonderful childhood. It was innocent, fun and safe. I had tremendously attentive adults in my life to guide and mentor me.

One of my most favorite family events was when I would learn that a large group of relatives were planning to visit our small suburban New Jersey house and spending the night. I was never sure exactly who these relatives were or how they related to one another. After all, the maternal side of my family was always sponsoring immigrants from the old country, Malta. All I knew was that the weekend was going to be filled with spirit, fun and food. Spontaneous festivities would always continue late into the night!

Now my favorite part of these favorite family events was when I could find a secluded corner and quietly listen to the myriad of fascinating, gripping, riveting, intriguing, seductive stories. Every kind of imaginable story would be told and retold with few topics off limits. I now realize what a superb group of storytellers my family produced. Often I wonder if they simply refused to let the truth get in the way of a grand story.

These weekends were a gigantic highlight of my youth! However, when I was about 9 years old, as one of these weekends were coming to a close, I had a very sad realization. I vividly recall that all these animated, fun-loving adults, whom I admired, had their own compelling stories – and I had none! I had no stories of my own! I was close to being depressed for weeks on end and thought deeply about this. I struggled and finally realized the reason why I did not have stories of my own was that I was only 9 years old! Eureka, I felt so much better with this realization. I concluded that as I got older I would have stories of my own! Yahoo!

Perhaps it time for me to come to the point of this post. Twice in the past four days I had the opportunity to tell my story to a captive audience. My story being: The Human Perspective of Cancer. My dear friend Alan, asked and made space for me in his University of Oregon Biology of Cancer class to tell this story to his 150 or so students. Now mind you, this is not the story I would of dreamed of telling as a 9 year old, but life has its twists and turns and this is the story that has resulted. It felt real good returning to the classroom and especially good to find the students so interested. They seemed engaged and inquisitive and their questions were sincere and well formed.

Just last night I offered up the details of my story again to a set of ten dear friends with whom we rendezvous every year about this time in Kokanee Lodge. Of course, I had been in touch with each of them, most personally, yet somehow the stage set itself for details, both current and past. Their empathetic feeling was incredibly strong and I felt strengthened by the power and love of my community. Again, not quite what I would have expected as that 9 year old so many years ago…………..but so goes life!