Stories Matter

I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good. Hot is no good either. White hot and passionate is the only thing to be.” – Roald Dahl

This past Tuesday, eight-year-old, Miss O was working on a school project and announced “Volcanoes are boring.”

I harumphed thinking about all the beautiful, scenic, and climbable volcanoes in our vicinity. “I love volcanoes,” I said.

She shot back, “I bet you could make volcanoes interesting.

So at bedtime that night, I told her and four-year-old Mr. D. about when I was 11-years-old and living in Spokane, Washington. We were driving home from church on a Sunday afternoon in May, 1980. We stopped to talk with a neighbor who told us that Mt. St. Helens had erupted. Mt. St. Helens was on the opposite side of the state from us. The eruption blew the top 1,300 feet and the north side of the mountain off. We nodded with interest and went about our day as usual thinking it had no bearing on us.

As we drove home from a playdate four hours later, the sunny May sky turned gun metal gray and ash started falling. We carefully drove home with our windshield wipers pushing the dusty pile off our windshield.

In Spokane where it snows usually from October through March, school is never canceled because of weather. But after Mt. St. Helens blew, they told us to stay indoors, and school was canceled for a week. Everyone tried to figure out what to do with Mt. St. Helens ash. We collected it to polish silverware. Others used it to make ceramics. My friend, Jiffy and I used it to build sand (ash?) castles. When we drove across the state on vacation that summer, we stopped on several occasions to watch impressive ash dust devils form in fields across the state.

Then I told my kids about how, in the year 2000, twenty years after it erupted it, I climbed Mt. St. Helens for the first time. It’s hard to get permits to climb in the summer. The park service limits traffic to help the flora to grow back. [And here I may have embellished a little side story imagining how excited the scientists were when they discovered the first flow to grow back after the eruption. “Look, look, the first tiny flower has come back to St. Helens!!”]

In order to bypass the permit lottery process my friend, Jill, and I climbed in the late spring when the traffic is low so it’s easy to get a permit. We climbed up 6,000 feet on a sunny April Saturday to look over the rim. Even though it wasn’t very high (any more) was a long one-day climb.

The view over the rim of Mt. St. Helens to the little pot-belly lava dome in the top center.

And the rim? Well, it was fascinating to look over the edge into gaping hole below with a little pot-belly lava dome in the middle. And then to have a sense of surreal shock that nothing was below us.

The rim of Mt. St. Helens 20 years after the top and half the mountain blew off.

For as exhilarating as it is to stand on a mountain top, it’s a little dizzying to stand on only half of one.

This bedtime story session was on Tuesday night. By Wednesday afternoon, Miss O was telling me facts about volcanoes. “Mom, did you know there are three types of volcanoes?

I didn’t even try to hide my glee.

This theme shows up for me again and again. When we share our stories – it matters. Our authentic voice telling our experiences are more than just a bedtime story. It’s the passing on of energy, passion, and warmth.

(photos in this post are mine – the featured photo is my favorite volcano, Mt. Rainier)

And speaking of authentic stories, Vicki and I talk with writer and blogger, Cheryl Oreglia on our podcast today about her experience at the San Francisco Writer’s conference. She sells us the idea that not only are we the only one to tell our stories – we might be obligated to. It’s such a great episode. Please tune in by searching for (and subscribing to) Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocketcasts

Or click through to the show notes Episode 61: The Writers Conference with Cheryl Oreglia for the link to listen on Anchor on whatever device you are using.

44 thoughts on “Stories Matter

  1. Stories bring it to life! Telling them can be hard work–as a writer, I feel that all the time–but it’s so satisfying when you get a positive response and feel that sense of accomplishment.

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  2. I am as taken with stories as you are, Wynne. Unfortunately, none of mine involve a volcano. I wonder if your kids will follow in your footsteps upward?

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  3. Wow! You’re makng me think back to my own stories. I don’t have any fantastic volcano stories—nor would I be likely to climb up to the top of one to peer into the lava pit of one—but I love your tale! Thanks for doing that for me—and for sharing!

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  4. Ya know, when you’re sharing your stories with your kids…in your lowkey, “I know stuff but I’m not gonna overload you” way, I wanna snuggle in, too. “Passing on energy, passion, warmth”. Wow. And can Miss O lay down the details for me about the three different types of volcanoes? And last – are you sure we’re friends? My idea of an adventure is a bonfire…making s’mores…extra chocolate. Volcanoes? Mountains? Not worthy. 😜

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    1. Thank you for your wonderfully kinda words. Well, from Miss O – active, dormant and extinct. And you know what I found when I was looking up my facts to make sure? Everest is not a volcano. The Himalaya were formed when the tectonic plates clashed and they have volcanic rock as part of their make-up – but they aren’t volcanoes.

      Making s’mores is an adventure in and of itself. Burned marshmallows, sticky fingers, and time by the fire – all great elements of a story, right? 🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤

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  5. Love this perspective on storytelling and authenticity. I gotta write this down and share it anytime a corp leader wants to use gobblygook jargon instead of a personal story or when I doubt the value of own stories. A great lesson. “When we share our stories – it matters. Our authentic voice telling our experiences are more than just a bedtime story. It’s the passing on of energy, passion, and warmth.”

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  6. “When we share our stories – it matters.” It sounds so simplistic, but it’s really so profound, whether getting kids excited about learning, sharing lessons learned, or even just working through the messy stuff ourselves. What a great reminder, Wynne. Thank you!

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  7. Yes, absolutely our stories matter and I loved this one! Living in New England when Mount Helen’s blew, it was a news story for us. Certainly a big one, but I had no idea about the ash – wow! And I love Miss O’s new enthusiasm.

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    1. I’m so glad you liked this story even though you weren’t living on this coast at the time. It was interesting how all the ash spread northeast. Seemed like Ellensburg, Moses Lake and Yakima got a ton.

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  8. With your first quote from your daughter about volcanos being boring, I thought of Mt. Saint Helens. I was at the UW and a hostess at the Tally Ho at the University Towers Hotel and people came in talking about the eruption. The world was a different place when I left work! I agree that stories matter and are most effective with an authentic voice.

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  9. Mt. St. Helens blew the day before my 20th birthday and it was devastating to the community my parents resided in, Chehalis, WA. The sun disappeared for days and the landscape was covered in ash. It was biblical. I love how you used an epic story to intrigue and entice your daughters interest in a school project. That’s brilliant. And thanks for the shout out about the podcast! Hugs, C

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    1. It was biblical — such a great way to put it, Cheryl! And yes, I can imagine how devastating it must have been for Chehalis. What a memorable event!

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  10. I love this! Yes, stories bring the mundane things to life, things we might otherwise overlook. Stories also help us to connect more personally, to see ourselves in similar situations, or even to find the courage to walk in another’s footsteps. Stories, they’re vital!

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  11. Miss O was correct: you did make volcanoes interesting. Your description of stuff done with the Mt. St. Helens ash was eye-opening! For most of us, it was a fascinating news story. But for you guys, it was a huge shift in your days! A great story 🌞

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  12. It does matter when we tell our stories, and you saw first-hand proof of it, Wynne. Delightful!. I still recall flying over Mt. St. Helens when it was first beginning to erupt (anything but boring!). How cool you were able to climb it later.

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    1. Whoa – what a spectacular vantage point you had, Mitch! Holy smokes (pun not intended but now making me smile). Thanks for chiming in, Mitch!

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  13. Your story reminded me of the time we visited the active volcano on the Big Island of Hawaii. There were cracks on the ground, and you could see the glowing lava underneath moving. Volcanoes are cool and scary. Great post, Wynne.

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  14. This is such an intriguing viewpoint – “When we share our stories – it matters. Our authentic voice telling our experiences are more than just a bedtime story. It’s the passing on of energy, passion, and warmth.” You are such an amazing mother!💖

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  15. What a beautiful story both of your childhood and adult experiences with Mt St Helen but also of widening Miss O’s perspective and eyes. Actions speak louder than words and you turned her into a volcano enthusiast!

    I agree that stories are wonderful traditions to share with each other and there is something wonderful and lasting about them.

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  16. I love how your story inspired her to change her mind on boring volcanoes! Storytellers are a priceless treasure and leave more of an impact than they know! 💞💞💞

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