The Conversation After a Story
Reflections on "The Last to Know"
There’s a reason you haven’t seen a new post in the past 3 weeks. It isn’t because I didn’t have anything to share. I was creating an original 12-15 minute storytelling performance for a Juneteenth program that I expected to take a few days. It was my first venture into historical storytelling. It became an obsession lasting weeks. Here’s what happened:
After telling the story, I took a quick unsteady bow holding the back of a chair. The audience smiled and applauded. Some took photos during the performance and a few recorded video. My hand tightly gripped the printout even though I knew the story I was sharing by heart. I invited the audience to join me onstage to view the display table of artifacts that supported, The Last to Know.
I wasn’t sure if anyone would come up to the stage, my knee was feeling stable enough to walk around the table as I held on.
A family approached and asked about the book, Opal Lee and What It Means to Be Free by Alice Faye Duncan. The mom begins reading a few pages and Dad took a picture of the book’s cover.
A boy about 9 years old hops on the stage over the front. He inspects the images laying on the table. He asked how old was Major General Gordon Granger when he led Union troops to Galveston? I had no idea. I suggest,“how about we explore that question together?” I tap a few words in my phone and show the youngster. “He was 43 years old. He looks so old,” he responds loudly and others began to laugh.
Audience members and other guests, passing by, who didn’t see the performance are coming to the table studying photographs, asking questions about my pocket U.S. Constitution turned to the Thirteenth Amendment, and looking at the big map of Texas. They promised to return for the 1 p.m. second performance. Two families return settling in on a front row bench twenty minutes early. Some don’t return. It is a busy day bustling with other activities and programming.
I began to realize historical storytelling is not just about the past. It is about connection. “What did I learn that surprised me?” was a frequent question. There were about a dozen people milling around the stage. I am gingerly walking, interacting with them, even my once-angry knee is cooperating.
Families are waiting to flip through the Opal Lee book. While they wait, I remind them the 99-year-old civil rights icon is still alive, still advocating for her community, and planning to celebrate her 100th birthday this October. I tell them that in 2024 she was a awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom explaining to the younger children why it is an honor.
Without looking at the book, a mom tells her children, “Opal Lee was a teacher, like I am.” The smile they give their mother makes me forget about the unsteady knee (physical therapy starts soon).
It makes me not feel as guilty for missing my blogging schedule.
It makes the weeks of research worth it.
Because in that moment, I realized something.
The Last to Know was never really about Major General Gordon Granger.
Or Galveston.
It was about connection.
A little boy wondering how old a general was.
A teacher seeing herself in Opal Lee.
Families waiting patiently to share a children’s book.
Audience members returning early for a second performance.
People gathering around a table because they wanted to understand the story more deeply.
The performance ended when I spoke the final words:
“And that’s why we celebrate.”
The story didn’t end there.
The conversations, questions, and connections continued.
That may have been the most important lesson of all.
History is not really about the past.
It’s about people.
And when we tell their stories well, we discover something unexpected:
There is always someone willing to come closer and listen.
Thank you Brenda! I finally subscribed to your Substack!🌹 Excellent Job💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💜💜💜👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽🌹
I wish you could post a video version. I'm sure it was wonderful and interesting!