Just thinking about stories…

A dear friend shared a pic of her elderly daddy yesterday, playing his harmonica during his sharing of stories to a senior church group. My friend drove well over a hundred miles to take her daddy to this church, to share stories with a groups of seniors. I cannot express how deeply my emotions run. I am almost panicked into wondering what will happen when the “voice” in face-to-face meetings diminishes and gives way to twitter and snapchat and other social media outlets? Will the social media generation ever know the life-changing emotions and impact of storytelling, in person?? I have many elderly family members. I devour their stories. I want more of them. Dementia and health issues diminish the days where I sit happy, excited, questioning, always wanting more. And I know I’m a hypocrite. I twitter. I have this blog. And others. I don’t snapchat despite my granddaughter’s attempts (futile) to teach me how to “quickly” save the pic. *groan* *fail* But, still, I remain haunted by my friend’s shared post of her daddy, driving him many miles away to share stories. It won’t let go of me. I have no solutions, being caught myself in the web of technology. But, I do know that stories define us, make us more human, less robotic, more-connected, less removed.

That’s all. Just kind of a confessional/rant.

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