Tell Me Your Story

 

I was in Washington, D.C. and riding in a cab from a conference to the night’s lodging. As soon as I gave the destination address, I said to the driver, “Tell me your story.”

He looked at me in disbelief and remarked, “No one has asked me that.”
“Really, tell me,” I implored and sat back to listen for the next twenty minutes.
He was from Kashmir, and immigrated with his wife. They have two children who are doing well in school. He is proud of them. He described a loving wife and adoring children. Life is good in the United States.
That was it. Birth. Marriage. Children. Work. Love. Life.
Of course, I had questions which he answered freely. We arrived and we still wanted to converse. I arranged to ask him if he was available tomorrow when I leave. He was and the conversation was to be continued.
I enjoyed this so much that the simple request, “Tell me your story” is part of my conversation when meeting someone new. It is also useful to learn more about my friends and family. The best part is to listen, giving undivided attention to the personal message that is being shared. When done, I have questions. “How long have you been here?” “How old are your children and what are their names?” “What job would you be doing if you weren’t doing what you are doing today?”

Why don’t you tell me your story? socorrogalushaluna.wordpress.com

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