Hidden Truths (and the Power of Story)

Regarding my last post about farting and embarrassing situations, I came to realize, as I was pondering the profundity of my retelling my situation, that as adults, we have repressed several episodes of our youth that are humiliating, uncouth, or just flat out stupid.  And as I reflected on this, lying in my bed, standing in the shower, driving in to work, I theorized that with all the incidents we have buried deeper than a pirate’s treasure, it’s just as likely that we (yes, all of us) have repressed some of the truly amazing things that we have done as well.

                Face it.  Junior high—puberty in general—is just a mixed-up, difficult, fashion-forgettable, die-if-anyone-really-knew-how-I-was-or-what-I-did time in everyone’s life.  Most of us, if we tried hard enough, could unearth interminable horrific memories and recount crazy stories (and attach morals to them, if needed—depending on how we skew the tales) to our children and grandchildren.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to excavate as many evidences of our own personal awesomeness as we do our epic (and not-so-epic) failures?  I suggest that we try harder to do so.

How many of us, when involved in a reunion of siblings of some type, slip back into spilling anecdotes we hadn’t remembered for eons…or at least decades? We resurrect legends that our mothers never knew.  I know for a fact that my mother doesn’t know every account…and that’s not always a bad thing.  I’m repeatedly amazed that when my wife’s dad gets together with his brothers and sisters, Grandma blushes and asks, “You did what, dear? When?” And the conversation about peeing in the barn and painting tar on the dog’s rear end resumes after she has left the room or gone to bed.  Heroes and villains are recreated and hyperbolized more than ever.  Stories spill and slosh around the room, and I learn more about my dad’s childhood from his brothers in half an hour than he ever told me in thirty-plus years.

Ah, the power of story!  It’s part of the human experience—one we cannot live without.  It’s how we live, how we communicate, how we find understanding and relationships and truth amidst chaos.

Since I’ve started writing this morning, I’ve delved deep into the recesses of my mind and discovered ancient troves of writing material—none of which I will divulge now because they might make excellent blog posts later.  Heh heh heh.

Now what I want to know from you readers of this ramble comes in three parts.  First, if you know any techniques to successfully “mine” for memories, please share them.  I have different ways to dig into my own mind, but I’m looking for new methods (for my madness).

Second, I’d like to know if you have any memories of me that I might have repressed that might make a good story—and I’m looking for both positive and negative stories.  Don’t be afraid to hurt my feelings.  To quote a famous book, “The truth will set you free.”

Finally, I would encourage you to uncover some hidden story from your life.  Play Dr. Frankenstein if you must.  Discover the details.  Relive those glory days.  Reveal something that has been hidden from the public.  Write about it.  Share it.