Telling Stories

There I was, sitting in the Wander Cafe at the Calgary International Airport this morning, waiting for my regular flight to Vancouver Island. My usual table was taken, so I pulled up a spot in a booth, dragged out my laptop, and started writing.

Kayla, my usual waitress, popped by and scared the hell out of me; in that moment, I realized I’d made the fundamental mistake of sitting with my back to the entrance. Rookie move. She didn’t jump-scare me; she just appeared out of nowhere.

I normally sit in a corner facing out so I can see everything and don’t end up kidnapped, stabbed, shot, or otherwise surprised. Kayla surprised me. I might have screamed. She laughed, pleased with herself, and brought me a coffee and water.

We chatted briefly, the general pleasantries, as my heart rate returned to normal, and I ordered my usual: eggs over-medium, bacon, dry multigrain toast, and avocado. I can feel the judgement. Hey, it’s what I like.

Beside me, a travelling family settled into their booth: three adults and a four-year-old boy. I’m not sure where they were going, but they were in good spirits. The young boy had a lot to say, most of it in the herky-jerky exuberant cadence and volume typical of four-year-olds. The adults listened very attentively. Then Kayla got into the conversation, asking what he was going to dress up as for Halloween. Kayla was going as an Earth Wizard. I’m probably remembering that wrong. What I remember is that she’s more Gandalf the Grey than Harry Potter. The boy wanted to be an airplane. Specifically, an Air Canada airplane.

The adults seemed to think this was an excellent idea, and talk turned to him becoming the airplane spokesperson for Air Canada. I might actually fly Air Canada again if this boy were the face of the airline. Pure charm, curiosity, and an innate ability to tell stories that people listen to.

This got me thinking about childhood and what we lose when we age. What some people lose. That passion for sharing our adventures, to speak and be heard, to engage wantonly with the world around us with no other agenda than sharing what we see.

Researchers have found that even twelve-month-olds point at things to share attention and interest – not just to get something, but to bring others in on what they’re seeing.

The kid was four. He had just figured out language, and the adults were thrilled to see how he saw his world. The kid was just as thrilled to share it. He also bounced between English and Mandarin, which got me thinking even more about how amazing it is that we can communicate across cultures and languages, and how much rounder that experience must be.

I speak English, stumble through French (poorly), and have a passing knowledge of Spanish. I wish I had learned languages when I was younger. I love telling stories in English; imagine how fun it would be to share them in Mandarin?!?

And perhaps we haven’t lost the pleasure so much as stopped expecting it. Researchers have run experiments with adult train and bus commuters; people expected a better experience from keeping to themselves. However, those instructed to talk to a stranger reported a more positive experience. I guess some of us need research to establish what this kid understood right out of the gate.

Here’s to the joy of sharing stories and the unbridled joy of four-year-olds seeing the world untainted and unfiltered. This isn’t something only the young get; if we’re not careful, that joy gets chipped away and lost.