Recently, a friend and I had breakfast with a man I had worked with in the 1970’s. His wife was also with us, and she told my friend the story of how I had left that job.
When she finished, I said, “That’s a good story. It’s not what happened, but it’s a good story.” Then I added, “Never let a few facts get in the way of a good story.”
I love stories and storytelling. The Moth Radio Hour is my favorite story-telling venue, and I love their disclaimer: Moth stories are true, as remembered by the storyteller.
If memory is a muscle, mine is the most underdeveloped muscle in my body. I grew up in a home where we worked to forget, where we denied unpleasant experiences and just got on with life. Don’t remember was the takeaway for me.
In my twenties, I used to joke that when I got old, no one could say old age was the reason my memory was so bad, because it was bad even then.
Culture Shift, a public radio show about the local music scene, recently did a shout-out for stories about meeting famous musicians. I don’t remember ever calling in to a radio show before, but I called in that day to share a story.
The story, as I remember it, is that in 1977, I was living in Allentown, PA, and working downtown. The hotel across the street had a pool, and that summer, I went for a daily swim during my lunch hour. Usually, I had the pool to myself, but one day several guys were there I did not recognize. I was twenty-five at the time, and they were around my age.
One of the guys came over, introduced himself and asked what there was to do in Allentown. I said I had only recently moved there, so I didn’t know.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Detroit,” I told him.
“Bob is from Detroit,” he said and then he called Bob over and introduced us.
We had the usual where did you go to school chat and talked about our favorite places in Detroit. Then I went back to work.
The next morning, my local newspaper featured a front-page photo of the guys from the pool. Their band had headlined the music festival the previous night. I had no idea who they were—even after reading the article.
I shared on Culture Shift that I live under a pop-culture rock and always have. I would not have known Bob Seger from Bob Dylan. I wondered if the Bob I met was shocked that I had no idea who he was or if he thought I was playing it cool by not fawning over him.
The Culture Shift host asked if there was any musician I would have recognized. “Paul McCartney,” I said without hesitation.
I hope someday to get up the courage to pitch a story to The Moth. Until then, this is my stage.
Madeline Bialecki 