Yesterday afternoon I went to meet an old friend of mine. I'd asked her earlier in the week if she wouldn't mind sharing a story about growing up in Oakland for a website I'd been working on geared towards promoting positive news in the area. Thankfully, she agreed and off we went. "I've been giving this a lot of thought," she told me.
I set my recorder down on the coffee table as her 7-month old son Toshiro bounced on her lap. Within seconds she shared with me a remarkable story about her family's history in Oakland. Evidently, her grandfather ran an illegal gambling ring with tables that turned into the walls. It was something out of a movie.
As she delved into more serious topics like the hardships her family experienced during World War II like the internment of Japanese Americans and the relocation of thousands and thousands of families, I got a sense of the gratitude she had for their enormous sacrifices. She beamed when relaying anecdotes of her mother's work ethic and grandparents' determination to give their children a better life.
I left her home grateful for her time and marveled how open she was about her family's struggles. It then dawned on me that I'd experienced the same situation on numerous occasions: in noisy coffee shops, onboard planes, BBQs, and even before an audition.
I realized people have inspiring and interesting stories they want to tell. They're just waiting for someone to ask.
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