Untold Stories

By Wayne Harmon

A couple of days ago I received a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. I usually let those go to voice mail, because I’m really not interested in that dream vacation that the voice on the robo-call is so excited about. I took this call, however, and I’m glad I did.

The call was from a classmate I haven’t seen since we congratulated each other almost 45 years ago at our high school graduation. He was a friendly classmate, though not necessarily a friend. We spoke to each other. We had some classes together. We sometimes sat at the same table at lunch. It never went beyond that.

We talked for over an hour. As we got reacquainted, he began to tell me “his story.”

His father died when he was six years old. His stepfather was an abusive alcoholic and drug dealer. His main focus during his youth was survival.

Wow.

I didn’t know any of this when we were in school. Would it have changed how I saw him and interacted with him? Probably not. At seventeen I was too self-absorbed. Still, I wish I had known.

After our phone conversation I started thinking about how everyone has a “Story”.

Everyone.

How much differently would we see people if we knew their stories?

The lady working the cash register has a story.

The guy that cut me off in traffic has a story.

The young mother pushing her baby in a stroller has a story.

The old man who spends his days sitting on his front porch has a story. If fact, he has a bunch of stories!

Should we start asking people to tell us their stories?

No, though from time to time that might not be a bad idea.

My point is that we need to start seeing others as whole persons. They are not just character actors with bit parts to fill in the gaps in the movie that we see our lives as being.

They are fellow humans who share this thing called Life with us.

Let’s recognize them as such, and learn to cherish them … and their stories.

Copyright 2014: Wayne Harmon