What They Didn't Know

I’m not often a people watcher. But when I travel, I find myself falling into this common sociological pattern; people watching. We watch others to find common ground among the throngs of souls that, even if for the briefest of moments, cross our path. Or, we watch in self-righteous curiosity at the social atrocities of other humanity. They are the less evolved – the step between homo sapiens and the missing link. And we watch them, eyes glued to their awkward ambling, and we smile ruefully – gladdened that they are not we.

Airports are the best for people watching. You can see people from many walks of life and varying cultures. I spent some time living in Japan. I loved my time there. I loved the culture. I loved the people. Of course, I had spent my fair share of time at Narita International Airport near Tokyo.

I made a game of trying to guess their nationalities. Americans were easy to spot. Americans most typically travel in comfortable clothes. Loose fitting pants. Shorts. T-shirts. Sometimes even pajamas. Americans often had the most luggages and walked with a certain swagger not found in other nationalities. It’s been well over a century since the west was won, but we all still walk like cowboys lookin’ to rustle up some grub after a long international flight.

The British were easy to spot as well. They usually walked off the tarmac wearing suits that looked freshly pressed and not having been crunched into a two foot wide chair for 13 hours. They had perfect posture and had an elegant spring in their step, like lithe elves whose demure etiquette would breach no disrespect or rough word. They had a determined look in their eyes that said, “I could kill you with a spot of tea.”

Of course, there are other things to look for when you’re people watching. Once, I thought I saw my future wife. My eyes locked on her shapely form as she walked down the aisle towards her gate. The scene changed and suddenly she was on red carpet walking down the aisle towards me. Her long blonde hair was being blown backwards by an unseen breeze and her neck swathed her head back and forth, swishing her hair ever so slightly. Her eyes locked on mine and I…. I realized I was staring. She gave me a look filled as much with pity as incredulity. I took a deep breath and tried to read a book for a while, trying to take my mind off of people watching. But a few moments later, I saw my second future wife – this one with curly red locks – and the process began once again.

I’ve seen a lifetime of wives or would-be girlfriends at the airport. I’ve seen kindness and cruelty. I’ve seen pain, heartache, loss, and love. I’ve seen friendships re-forged and relationships broken. I’ve seen humanity at its weakest, its worst, its most self-serving. I’ve seen generosity and beauty – oh, have I seen beauty – and I’ve seen what once appeared simple become complex and mysterious. I’ve seen stories unfold among the lives of people I would never know, and I’ve wondered what brought them there and where their tale would take them next. And what they didn’t know, was that I saw them: for glory and shame, I saw them and I watched. Their stories entertained my dull moments stuck alone in a grayed and metallic airport. They brought light and flickered my imagination.

But what I wonder now, is if they saw me too? Who was watching the watcher? I wonder, what have I revealed about myself that I would rather had been hidden? What do they know that I wish they didn’t?

Kansas City StorySlam

When: Friday, May 29th, 7pm
Where: Barnes and Noble at 95th and Quivira Rd. in Overland Park, KS
Theme: "What They Didn't Know"

This is a free open mic event for adults. All stories must be family friendly. Stories should be no longer than 7 minutes and should fit, however loosely, with the evening's theme. After everyone who wishes to share a story has done so, we will vote for the winner. The winner will receive a Barnes and Noble Gift Card!

I will be the event's emcee and am looking forward to hosting the first StorySlam event in Kansas City!

Storytelling Podcast?

I am in the process of researching podcast creation to share some of my stories and/or discuss the business development edge to storytelling. If anybody has any advice or has any experience in developing a podcast, please feel free to share. Thanks.

An Easter Story

Three days ago, He died; nailed on a cross, hung in our shame. Three days ago, they cast lots for his clothes as he endured the reality of “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Three days ago, He went through Hell so that we could enter Heaven. Three days ago, he cried, “Abba! Abba! Father! Why have you forsaken me?!”

The little boy was 6 years old. It was his turn to spend a summer’s week with his grandparents. No parents. No brothers. Just him, his papa, his grammy, and a fat white cat named Casper. It was a rite of passage for the boy, he was becoming a man.

It was His last supper. He was surrounded by His loved ones. Not a bad way to spend your last supper really – though I imagine it would be difficult if you knew it would be your last supper as He did. He knew that one of them would betray Him, start the unraveling of a chain that was forged at the dawn of time. And yet, he broke bread with this man. He told His betrayer, “I know the game you’re playing.” But he enjoyed His last supper with this man, this Judas. He broke his bread, shared his drink, and said, “I love you.”

One year before, the boy’s grammy got sick. Real sick. She almost died. She lost part of her memory, the part that let’s you remember anything for longer than 5 minutes. His papa had to work during the day. Adults don’t get summer vacations. The boy stayed at home with his ill grammy and Casper the cat. They only had an old TV that seemed stuck on news and wheel of fortune. He was just learning to read, so books were out. His grammy would forget he was there, and when she saw him, she’d forget his name.

He had asked them to stay awake. He knew they were going to be tempted, sifted like wheat. He asked them to pray. They didn’t understand why; they were with Him, but they were so tired. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, or so they say. Still, He wanted them there. His friends. His amigos. His boys. They’d have His back. They’d fight for Him. But not tonight, not in the way He knew they would in just a few short days. They’d fight for Him. They’d die for Him. But first, He’d die for them. “For God so loved the world….”

He was lonely. His papa could tell. That’s why he made the boy His special homemade peach ice cream one night in the middle of the week. But there was an ache in the boy’s stomach that the old Texan grandpa’s ice cream couldn’t mend. The boy ate his bowl, smiled, and then crawled to the couch to hold his gut. But papa knew. He knew what the boy needed. He called home and handed the phone to his grandson. “I’ll come to you tomorrow, son,” said his dad through the boy’s lonely tears. The next day, his dad drove up, picked him up, and took him out for lunch to the nearest Whataburger. He gave the boy a sack full of crayons, drawing pads, and coloring books. “You’re homesick, son,” his dad said to him. “Can you last just three more days? Soon, you’ll be coming home.”

The stone was sealed, three days ago. But today, the stone has moved. The tomb is empty. The white knight has slain the blackest death. He is risen. He endured. He is alive. When he again met his friends, they were afraid, doubtful, ecstatic, grieved, hopeful, and loved. Oh yes – Jesus knew. They’d fight for Him, they’d die for Him – but first, they’d truly live – with Him, for Him, by Him, in Him. He is alive. The Son has returned to the Father and the Father has welcomed home the Son. He said, “Friends, I’m homeward bound. You’ll be coming soon behind, but first, won’t you go out to this world and bring some others with you?”

I stayed. For three more days, I stayed in loneliness, in homesickness. But it wasn’t as bad as it was before, because I knew I’d be going home. Because my father, my dad, had made a promise. Because I knew he’d come and get me. Because he’d never forsake me, even as he asked me if I’d stay. Because I know my Father, loved me first.

Upcoming Event - Tuesday, March 31

I will be performing at a new Barnes and Noble location in Overland Park, KS at Quivira and 95th on Tuesday, March 31st at 7pm and again at 8pm.

This is a free event! Please come in and listen to a tale or two!

The Dream

When I was a child, about 12, my family took a small vacation to a lake cabin not too far from where I grew up. I loved the outdoors and was excited to spend some time in the woods or catching frogs near the lake. But, being a child of the video game generation, technology began sinking its bait into me already.

My dad had planned on completing a few work assignments while on our vacation. To do so, he brought his company laptop. This wasn't anything like the laptops we have today. It might have weighed closer to 100 lbs. than I did at that age. It had a built-in 5 in. floppy drive. The screen was monochrome. The sound was 8-bit but when it chimed I think it was resonating my name across the Alps.

This was too much of a lure. While my dad and brothers escaped to go fishing, I stayed in the cabin staring at the screen, trying to find where in America's past Carmen Sandiego had fled. I turned on the computer expecting to play the game, but a sudden curiosity overcame me. "Word Processor" read the lettering beneath the black-and-white icon. I clicked on it.

A blank page opened. I began to type. Words filled the screen. "Oooooooo, shiny!" my heart must have cooed. I found the backspace key and quickly erased all I had typed. Then I thought up a story and began the creation process. I was falling in love with writing.

As I grew, I would occasionally attempt to develop my skill as a writer, but it seemed I had a more natural gifting as an orator. Writing never grew into my main focus, but I often dreamed about being published and speculated what kind of book I would someday write.

That's still a dream, the dream to be published, and it's one that I am currently working towards achieving. But in recent years I've found a wonderful combination of my two loves: public speaking and story. As a storyteller I can enjoy both worlds. The planets align and my spirit sighs, "Ahhh, this is... perfect."

Because, in the end and through it all, I hope to follow my dream.