I joined Toastmasters to become a better storyteller. I’ve long felt insecure in my storytelling. Most of my stories take so many tangents that both my listener and I get lost in a maze of interminable plot holes, no doubt because I shared too many details. 

As a child, I always wanted to be an author. Although I haven’t written my own stories in a long time, that childhood passion finds light in another way today. The most peaceful part of my week is reading stories aloud to residents in memory care. Every Friday afternoon, I read short stories––true stories––from Chicken Soup for the Soul. My listeners are people living with dementia, the after effects of strokes, brain injuries, and other memory-related challenges. 

If you know someone who has experienced memory loss, you’ll know it’s not something that one expects, or plans for. It is a baffling reality for many families. I can only imagine it as if living life in limbo; sometimes scary, sometimes lovely, sometimes lucid. I’ve witnessed residents go through all three.

I started going because it reminded me of spending time with my grandparents, who are long gone. Now, after a year and a half, I’ve grown close to some regular listeners, including Jay, and Jay’s wife, Em. She visits him every single day.

We’ve lost a few friends along the way—such is life in memory care. The closer I got to Em and Jay, I eventually began to realize that our Friday afternoons would not be the same when Jay inevitably left us. I had hoped that wouldn’t be for some time. Last week, Jay moved on, surrounded by Em and his loving family. It was sudden, and not sudden. 

This week, I wondered if I should start phasing out my visits. Would it make a difference if I stopped reading? There are plenty of volunteers who play music and do crafts with the residents. While some of the residents do recognize me and know that I’m there to read, I wondered if the stories made an impact. 

On Friday, I punched in the code, and got my answer. As I walked in, I saw Ben sitting alone in the cafeteria. I said, “Hi, Ben! How are you today?” Ben is close to nonverbal now, so I didn’t expect a reply, but tha’ts normal. I said, “I’m going to read stories. Would you like to join me?”

To my surprise, Ben replied, “Yeah, where will you be?”

It was the first time I’d heard him speak. Not only that, but he got up and walked with me to the reading area, answering my questions along the way. Ben spoke and engaged in the pursuit of hearing stories. 

Reading was lovely, and I had a captive audience. It is always intriguing how my regulars can seem lost in their own thoughts at the beginning, but after an hour, they listen with rapt attention. Eye contact, smiling, and commentary are common responses by the end of an hour of listening. It’s awesome.

On my way out, I ran into Beth, another regular listener who is always good for a chat. She didn’t seem like herself that day, so I asked for the second time if she was okay.

She told me, “I love listening to the stories. They help me understand what’s happening. They remind me of my life. Sometimes, it makes me sad.” 

I said, “I’m so sorry to make you sad,” and she said, “No, no! Please keep coming. We love the stories.” 

Well, I had my answer. There is a quote from celebrated Brazilian author Paulo Coehlo that says,

“The power of storytelling is exactly this: to bridge the gaps where everything else has crumbled.” 

Memory is a strange and elusive aspect of our consciousness. While we may never know how the stories we tell affect others, I know now that they can have a life-affirming impact on us all.

*Names have been changed to protect individuals’ privacy.

Fun fact: Paulo Coelho’s last name means “rabbit” in Portuguese.

If you are looking to improve public speaking, storytelling, and presentation skills, I recommend checking out Toastmasters International.