Tell me a story

By TAD BARTIMUS

I realized I'd stopped making the sandwich when the cat yowled for the chicken I was absentmindedly suspending above his nose. I'd lost track of myself as I listened, enthralled, to the self-possessed teenager tell her dramatic story.

It was just her and her Mom against the world. She saw her father only once, by accident, on a street corner in a foreign city. Her mother spoke to him but he didn't reply. Her Mom's chronic illness meant huge debts. They couldn't afford a car. Theres no college money.

Our days are filled up with stories. Our own, our family's, our friends' and neighbors' stories, even strangers' stories.

"I had to do most of the cooking, cleaning, shopping when she came home from the hospital. I took care of her. It was hard and it changed us. But we love each other so much. We're each other's best friend."

I mentally vowed to stop whining about my own problems for a week.

"You can't live in the past," said the exchange student, who dropped into our lives this year when she came to live with a nearby family. "I can't let what happened to me as a child spoil my whole life." Then she smiled and calmly ate her lunch.

Another day, another story. Our days are filled up with stories. Our own, our family's, our friends' and neighbors' stories, even strangers' stories. We go to the movies to lose ourselves in stories. We watch Oprah and Rosie because they understand our hunger for stories. We read Barbara Kingsolver and Tom Wolfe and Shakespeare for made-up stories. The most thrilling words in any language are "Once upon a time ..."

The best part about writing "Among Friends" is that you send me back your own stories. That's the way its supposed to work in the media, but seldom does. Too many talking heads, pontificating experts, lop-sided gatekeepers. Too little conversation. Among Friends aims for give-and-take, a two-way, down-home, over-the-backyard-fence visit. This columns vitality and richness lies in the sharing of stories; you, dear readers, have shared beyond my wildest dreams!

Thanks, Bill in Seattle, for that detailed primer on how I can find and buy a home; owning 11 of your own certainly makes you an expert;

Thanks, Joe in Alaska, for keeping me in stitches as I read about raising 13-year-old triplets;

Thanks, Marjorie in Charlotte, for courageously sharing the story of your husband's exposure to Agent Orange and subsequent death just five weeks after your daughter's third birthday;

Thanks, Marus in San Jose, for finding your old college roommate after a 30-year communications gap -- we look exactly the same, dont we?

Thanks, half of Phoenix, for sending me dozens and dozens of stories filled with the wonder of watching your own night-blooming cereus bloom on its special night every year;

Thanks, Lefty in Denver, for saluting the unsung heroes who play by the rules;

Thanks, Ari of "Sons and Daughters In Touch," for telling me of the Father's Day gathering next year at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C.

Among Friends can now share the hundreds of great stories you've sent me with everyone who visits http://www.tadbartimus.com because you have YOUR OWN READER PAGE!

Just click on "New Friends" to join in the conversation. I invite all of you to send your true stories -- in 300 words or less, please! -- to friends@tadbartimus.com or c/o The Women Syndicate, P.O. Box 728, Puunene, Hawaii 96784. Please include a postal or e-mail address. First names and hometowns will appear on the NEW FRIENDS page. No stories will be returned.

Writer and journalism professor Richard Reeves recently wrote that we're in an "information swamp." I think the best way out of this quagmire is for us -- FOR YOU -- to share good stories. Maybe then we'll start listening to each other.

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