Gather 'Round And Sit A Spell

Sittin' and talkin'. Chairs are wonderful contrivances. They allow a measure of relaxation that stops short of unconsciousness and provide relief from the awkward act of shifting from foot to foot (or the urge to lean on things that might tip over). Plus, there is no greater place for the imagination to roam. Folks have told stories and listened to them from chairs long before the days of high technology made communication easier and faster and almost completely void of character.

Back in the day, being invited to "sit a spell" around the General Store potbellied stove was a sign of respect, belonging and acceptance; an invitation made not to prompt the shoveling of hype down people's throats nor to subject listeners to boast after boast. Folks who insisted on doing so were politely thanked and subsequently ignored... or quietly asked to move along. Long silences were common and to be expected; where everyone just stared into the distance watching pipe smoke drift into the rafters and listened to flies buzzing at the windowpanes. Trade was conducted almost as an afterthought and people would come and go as news was shared about families or poly-tishuns. Problems were solved and help was pledged through the dusty light without the need for contracts or handshakes. And as the afternoon pushed on stories were told of days gone by... sometimes time and time again. Either there was a point to the story or there wasn't. Everyone listened just the same. Results were never measured by the number of reposts, shares or likes but with the nod of the head, a simple "Ayuh" or a chuckle and a "reminded-me-of" story of their own.

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The time-out chair. As a kid in grade school I had a teacher called Mr. Pickles. He was a cool guy but one day I yelped loudly after he asked the class to feel the end of a Jack Pine needle in a science lesson, and for some reason he had me sit in a chair in the corner as punishment. This was only the second time I was made to sit facing the corner in my life, seeing as how my parents either didn't believe in "time outs" or didn't have an empty corner that I would fit into. The first time happened years earlier when, as a small fry, I was visiting the elderly neighbors next door. The Simpsons (no, not those Simpsons) had a swinging door between their kitchen and dining room – a remarkable invention to a young, red-blooded tyke and, I was told, one that came with a do-not-swing order that defied the logic of having a swinging door in the first place. After all, why else would it exist? I don't think they were accustomed to having young, energetic children around. As I remember I was never invited back. Perhaps they learned their lesson. They can have their dumb ol' swinging door anyhow.

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Chairs in a circle. I began my career working for an animation company as part of a large crew (large because at that time everything was all hand-drawn and painted on acetate cells, which were laid over watercolor backgrounds and shot one frame at a time). The final production crunch involved extra shifts and hastily assembled desks in a previously empty basement next door for extra painters. One night the power went out during a storm and while everyone waited for it to be restored they gathered their chairs around the light of a single flashlight – found in someone's car. Ultimately, the ghost stories began. Lee, friend and the son of the owner, told the story of waking up one night when he was a kid and seeing the image of a woman from the waist up, dressed in what he could tell was a flowing gown, hovering over the foot of his younger brother's bed. She wasn't doing anything, just floating there quietly gazing down at his brother. This appearance was repeated on subsequent nights. Always the same woman, always the same benevolent gaze. After a period of very little sleep and not sure whether to be scared or not, Lee finally shared the experience with his family who, being a family who was quite open about these things, decided that this woman was his brother's guardian angel – watching over him. Reassured, Lee lost little sleep after that. It freaked out his little brother for a while though.

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Gather 'round. Storytelling is an ancient craft, used for passing along tales, history, culture and information from generation to generation long before the written word existed. It is said that the craft is the most powerful communication tool still today. A story engages us, increases our ability to remember facts and makes it easier to think things through. Plus, it's great fun watching people sit on the edge of their chairs waiting for the story to unfold.

Find yourself politely thanked and subsequently ignored? Perhaps if we're looking for ways of being more effective when we take our chairs around the potbellied stove of the modern world, it might be an idea to take some pointers from days gone by.