Everyone talks about how odd their family is, but after meeting my family, people always say the same thing:
“WOW, you weren’t kidding!”

I was raised by the most eclectic collection of wonderful humans: immigrants who landed in New York, my people were short, sturdy, organized, over-exaggerators, the perfect foundation for a producer and comedic storyteller.

We would gather together with family, friends, and community every Sunday for dinner and when the eating was done (usually after several hours), the stories would begin. Funny anecdotes from a recent adventure or tales of people long since passed, every voice was welcome. You didn’t need to agree with the interpretation, the intent, or the message behind the story; you needed only, simply, to bear witness to the experience.

The evenings always ended in the same way: after the last story had been told, my grandfather would pull off the napkin he had tucked into his shirt collar, throw it on the table, and declare, “Well, it doesn’t get any better than that!”

When people ask, “What is the big deal with storytelling?” my answer is always the same. Stories remind us that we are not alone. They connect us to each other and define who we are, where we have been, and where we hope to go. Long after we leave our place at the table, the stories of our triumphs, failures, fears and hopes, will live on in the stories told by others.

I am eternally grateful to my community, past and present, and the AMAZING stories you have so willingly shared.

I guess my grandfather was right. “It doesn’t get any better than that.”

I can’t wait to hear your story!