Some past thoughts from early 2009:
The actor/director Ron Howard and I are very close in age; in fact, he is exactly 3 months younger than I am. So in watching him on TV at any given time I can accurately guess how old I was and what I was doing at that time. When he started in movies, I was playing with Tinkertoys and hadn’t yet entered kindergarten. When he began starring as “Opie” on The Andy Griffith Show, I was in the first grade and having the measles. When “American Graffiti” was first shown, I was still a new (and way too young) bride who had just arrived the day before in a new town with my Navy husband. When “Happy Days” first aired, I was happy too, for the most part, but pondering my choice of a future career, as I’d rather railroaded my first choice at that time (to become an art teacher) by marrying too soon. I can also recall what I was doing when each of his directorial efforts was released, but you get my point.
I recently watched the TCM documentary, “Ron Howard: 50 Years In Film,” so he’s been on my mind as of late. To me, he has the best job of all: to tell stories on film according to his vision, with the money and clout to make the finest and most enduring films he can. Storytelling is what it’s all about.
After the documentary, there was the short subject that replays from time to time, taking us rapidly through 100 years of filmmaking, 100 years of storytelling. This short subject always makes me misty-eyed, because the stories told in these films, as a body of work, so completely describe the human condition, reflecting so clearly who we are, and showing what we contribute that most enhances the world we live in: our stories.
Without storytelling, we couldn’t live. We could exist, but only as shells of ourselves. We write stories every day: when we come home and relate what happened during the day to our families, we’re writing. When we talk on the phone with a friend and describe who we saw and where and when, we’re writing. When we persuade someone to go out on a date, convince the boss we need a raise, coax a child to eat Brussels sprouts, reason with a creditor over a past due payment, sell a car, urge a friend, counsel a teen — we’re writing stories.
This is what I love about blogging. When we share stories, we enhance each others’ lives. And I share some of the stories I read with my daughter and sister and friends, who relate those stories to others, and on and on it goes. Lives are enhanced by a laugh or a bit of wisdom because someone took the time to post a blog entry.
We are our stories; resolve to increasingly share more of yours!