First, the big news: Gulu-Gulu Cafe has invited us back for September! And Eric, one of the co-owners, let me know they’re going to try to squeeze in more tables and chairs for the next event because we packed the house! I have much more to say about that in the gushiness section below. I’m so excited for September!
The theme for September is…
September’s show is “Stranded.”
When I dreamt this up months ago, I wrote this on the website:
“Have you ever felt stuck, emotionally? Have you ever been stuck, physically? Whether it’s a travel-gone-wrong memory or life standing still, we want to hear it!”
And when I was describing it to someone else this morning, I said this:
“For this one, I’m thinking the sensation of being physically stranded (missed car, missed train, locked outside without your keys, being somewhere without your phone/GPS) but then also emotionally stranded (being confused after a breakup, getting a horrible grade that alters your academic life, hitting some kind of dead end when you’re planning an event).”
Me on the Salem Story Series IG (@salemstoryseries)
When I was putting the flyer together a few days ago, I wondered if this theme might be a little too boxed in, especially while I was manipulating a great image I found in the Salem State Archives flickr account of a person stuck on a buoy to be the flyer’s centerpiece.
But I’m sticking to it! There are so many stories in all of our lives from times we’ve felt stuck, physically, emotionally, mentally. I want to know what happened and how you unstuck yourselves. The audience will be able to connect with your experiences for this one on many, many levels, and that’s what this is all about.
Speaking of…
Reflections on the first show
When my partner, Paul (you met him at the door!), and I were talking about my expectations for the first event, whenever the topic of attendance came up, he would reassure me in the most supportive way:
“The number of people isn’t what matters. What you’re doing for the community does.”
Paul Haney, best boyfriend ever
It was always what I needed to hear in those moments.
Neither of us were prepared for the actual number of people who came. We. Packed. The. House! The Salem community really showed up for this show, and I’m so, so grateful to everyone who came.
The stories were incredible
I had a feeling “New Beginnings” would be stirring, but I couldn’t have predicted the raw emotion and immense range of the content we heard. And with the exception of our feature, Betsey Heffron, everyone who shared a story dropped their names into the hat. In all of the events I’ve hosted or co-hosted, I’ve never been able to fill a hat like that. Thank you to all of the brave souls who wanted to share! If you didn’t get to this time, you’ll have your chance at future shows!
For those of you who couldn’t make it, I’ll do my best to describe a few of the topics we heard:
- An opening story about a hair stylist who experienced a stay at an inpatient center, and the powerful moment she was entrusted with sharp objects — a pair of scissors — and was told to give the team haircuts. This, of course, symbolized a trust in herself she couldn’t see, but learned to over time.
- A few stories about moving to Salem, MA, and finding community. These new beginnings were physical, yes, but also deeply emotional, and both storytellers described how changed they are now and the renewed trust they have in their own decision-making.
- There were beautiful stories about reclaiming Self, and what it takes to make choices that alter your own destiny. From a story about the decision to love yourself first and leave a lifetime of abuse to a story about choosing to stay here, on Earth, and letting hope for a brighter future lead the way, these were new beginnings of a deeply emotional kind. Thank you for your courage. <3
- A few stories made us chuckle, too; a clarinetist who needed to find a new job and a date-gone-wrong story that started with a vat of boiling oil and ended in a trip to the hospital (and a happy ending).
These stories were nothing short of miraculous. As Paul can attest, I cry fairly often, and when something is moving, my tear ducts reply before I have a chance to marshal myself. When I was sitting on the couch behind the storytellers, I found myself wiping away tears a few times more than I thought I would, and at other times, I was laughing along with the crowd. And that’s amazing. That’s also what this is all about.
The vibe was right
Gulu-Gulu let me play 1920s music as guests were filtering in. The fake candles were all a-flicker in their little amber glasses. The flowers (real!) looked sharp in their mismatched vases on their mismatched placemats. It all felt right.
I put out scratch paper and didn’t see very many come back. I know, too, that a few people took their storytelling instructions with them. Yay! That’s what they were there for! This tells me I should print off more, and I will, but I’m wondering: do you think I should change anything about them?
The conversations I had the pleasure of having were fantastic (thank you, truly, to everyone who chatted with me!), but the ones I overheard were even better. Strangers got to know one another, not just by listening to each other’s stories, but by chatting with each other at the community table, hanging out during intermission, and striking up jovial banter at the bar. This shared connection is exactly what I wanted for all of you.
The promised gushiness
A few people sent me gorgeous pictures (and I know I have more coming!), which I’ll share below and on Instagram, and I’m so delighted to have those memories.
Where my emotional overflow is coming from, however, is the experience I get to have when I’m on stage. Something magical happens when you’re in front of the microphone, staring out at a sea of faces. Don’t get me wrong: it’s terrifying, and I’ll write more about stage fright someday. But it’s also such a privilege to be the one who gets to see the impact after every storyteller is finished sharing.
Sean Seltzer, our videographer of the night (and owner of East Regiment Beer Company!), panned to the audience in one of his Instagram stories from the night, and you can see what I get to see when I’m on stage.
- People are giving the stage their undivided attention. No phones, no tablets, no computers. Just human beings giving their time to another human being.
- People are processing emotions at the same time. Everyone in the room is digesting the words of the person who just bared their soul on the stage, and it’s such a beautiful moment that anyone who tells a story gets to experience.
- People are living their lives in perfect harmony in those moments. It’s difficult to describe this phenomenon (and I’m still coming off of my adrenaline crash from the show, so words feel elusive), but it feels like an electrical current, some sort of powerful static charge in the air. The room is quiet. There’s an easy tension. In those moments, we’re just people, not titles or expectations.
Why I’ll keep doing this
The gushiest thing I wanted to say, and what I thought about the moment I woke up this morning, is that the stories we heard have changed our lives. They live in everyone who came. Paul and I went to dinner right after the show and we spent almost the whole time remembering what everyone said.
THAT is the power of storytelling. In classes I’m taking (I’m a Clinical Mental Health Counseling student at Lesley University), we talk a lot about the impact of vulnerability, but not just for the person who opens themselves up. The person receiving those stories experiences them.
Our minds don’t always know the difference between what we’re hearing and what is happening to us, and so when we go to a show like this one and we hear how our neighbors triumphed over their pains, their losses, their moments of doubt, we feel their triumph, too. We are changed by their stories.
I’m honored to facilitate this exchange. And I’ll keep doing it for as long as the Salem community will have me.
Thank you for coming to the show! Please spread the word.
Photos courtesy of Moria Lange
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