You Can Say That Again…Only Don't
One of the first rules of growing older, according to
popular wisdom, is this:
"Don't tell the same story twice."
Unfortunately, that's impossible.
By the time we reach our eighties, we've accumulated
thousands of stories, but only a few dozen have risen to the level of
greatness. Those are the ones we've polished over the years. We've trimmed the
unnecessary parts, improved the punchlines, and, if we're honest, added just
enough embellishment to make them even better than they were the first time.
They're classics.
The trouble is, our audience has often heard them before.
You can almost see the look of recognition spread across the
room.
"Oh no," they're thinking. "This is the
fishing story."
Or...
"Here comes the one about the Marine Corps."
Or...
"This is the story about the first date with his
wife."
If they're especially experienced, they can probably mouth
the next sentence before we say it.
We've all been there, both as the storyteller and as the
captive audience.
The usual advice is simple: Stop repeating yourself.
But I wonder if that's really good advice.
After all, those stories are not just entertainment. They
are our history.
Every repeated story exercises memory. It organizes
thoughts. It keeps names, places, and events alive. It reminds us not only of
what happened but of who we were.
Perhaps telling stories is less about informing the listener
than reminding ourselves that our lives have been rich, funny, adventurous, and
worth remembering.
And what about the listener?
Listening is a skill too.
Instead of thinking, I've heard this before, perhaps
we could ask a question.
"What happened after that?"
"How old were you?"
"What was your father like?"
"What made you decide to do that?"
Suddenly, the old story isn't quite the same anymore.
New details emerge.
Different memories surface.
Sometimes the storyteller remembers something that had been
forgotten for years.
The story grows richer, not because it has changed, but
because it has deepened.
At Merrill Gardens, we are surrounded by extraordinary
lives. Veterans, teachers, nurses, business owners, parents, artists,
mechanics, farmers, musicians each of us carries a lifetime of experiences that
no history book can fully capture.
It would be a shame if those stories disappeared simply
because someone worried about repeating them.
So perhaps we should relax the unwritten rule.
Tell the story.
Tell it with enthusiasm.
Tell it with feeling.
If you've told it before, that's all right. Maybe your
listener needs to hear it again. Maybe someone new has never heard it. And
maybe, just maybe, you'll remember one more wonderful detail that makes it even
better.
Besides, every family has stories that become legends
precisely because they're told over and over again.
The next time you hear someone begin with, "Did I ever
tell you about...?" don't be too quick to interrupt.
Smile.
Pull up a chair.
You might be hearing history.
Or, at the very least, a really good story...again.
William James Spriggs
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