I am a homebound writer, married 38 years to the same interesting guy, with three married children, two granddaughters and another granddaughter on the way. Alas, alas, none of our children, or grandchildren, lives closer than a very long day’s drive away. I am homebound because my husband and I care for his 98-year-old mother. She lives in a mobile home on our back lot and does amazingly well for 98, but not well enough for us to both be away from the property at the same time without a sitter. And she doesn’t believe in sitters. Since my husband travels for business a lot, I’m at home a lot.
I think I first glimpsed the power of story when I was writing a weekly parenting column for the El Paso Times for eight years during the 1990s. My instructions were to write practical how-to columns (using lots of bullets, Gannett-newspaper style!) that would explain to parents How to Help Their Children Succeed. I don’t know the mental image of Success that the childless editors who came up with these parameters had in mind, but I figured that I could stretch the success definition to mean doing anything that would nourish a child physically, intellectually, emotionally, socially, morally, spiritually…you have it.
When I sat down to write, I pictured myself sitting down to a cup of tea with another parent and sharing the way parents do. So I told lots of stories about my children, my birth family, my friends’ experiences and on and on – lots of stories to grab parents’ interest and soften all those bulleted lists. I was in the thick of homeschooling our three children at the time, so I had kids around me 24/7, giving me a wealth of practical issues to address and personal stories galore. (By the way, any time I prepared to publish a story about one of my children, I checked with them first. They had complete veto power over any stories mentioning their names.)
Strangers started coming up to me in public, telling me how much they appreciated the columns, and I found out that teachers all over the city were photocopying them and handing them out to parents. I was especially intrigued when regular readers who were strangers to me acted as if we were old friends and started telling me all about themselves. I realized that they really did feel like I had sat down to tea with them — many times! — to share my life and thoughts. All those stories I had written had made them feel connected to me, and they were telling me their stories in turn. I felt honored.
More on the power of stories later…this blog is still under construction
