Just as musicians, cast members, orchestra members, singers, choruses, athletes, teams of any sport, prepare for upcoming concerts, recitals, plays, games, or matches, I’ve always tried to properly prepare myself to teach a class, coach a practice or sporting event, umpire a ballgame, execute plans or activities related to job or interests, even undergo a medical procedure. I try to get myself in the proper frame of mind to go to ballgames, to share a TV game with my fellow Browns Backers of Jamestown, NY, or attend any play, concert, sporting event in indoor venues, in stadiums, or on the lawns of many outdoor arenas we’ve been to over the years. As mentioned before, Sally and I are again preparing to join fellow Parrotheads from all over the country, twice this summer, to hear Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefers. One of Buffett’s performed songs (though he did not pen it), once again plays into today’s Voice from the Bullpen narrative.

Jimmy Buffett recorded, and often performs, a John Fogerty written song about the enjoyment of sitting around and sharing tales of the past, stories that can be shared by so many who were, and are, a part of his life, reliving some great times spent. Some of the lyrics of Fogerty’s song titled, “Stories We Could Tell” include the following:

“…All the stories we could tell

If it all blows up and goes to hell

I wish that we could sit upon the bed in some hotel

And listen to the stories we could tell.”

And later in the song, the lyrics were tweaked a bit to sing,

“…All the stories he could tell

And I bet you it still rings like a bell

I wish that we could sit upon the bed in some hotel

And listen to the stories it could tell.”

In a couple of years, my high school class of 1971 at Jamestown High School, will be celebrating our graduation’s 50th anniversary, and just as we’ve done at all the reunions I’ve attended, stories will be shared, most of them beginning with “Do you remember when…?” Many of these stories will be the same ones we shared at our 45th reunion, and all the way back to our five-year reunion in 1976.

It’s the same when you gather with friends for dinner, holiday parties, weddings, funerals, birthday parties, anytime you get to sit with family and/or friends and celebrate, or just have coffee or lunch. The stories always seem to creep into the conversations.

The specialness and meaningfulness of the conversations we’ve at these celebrations, center around the memories we share in those stories. It’s like sharing a couple pages out of our unwritten life story, and then re-reading them every time we gather with those same people over and over again.

This column has often shared some of my stories with anyone who has read these near ten years, it’s been part of the Post Journal. Many have met my family and some of my friends through this column, something I’m so glad has happened. My family and friends are very special to me, as are many peoples to them, and I’m fortunate, being a part of this forum, to be able to share mine, and let others know how just how much they mean to me and what special people they are.

The people from our past, the memories of our school days, the growing up part of our lives, our social times with family and friends, our memories of work, play, our happy times, our sad times, are the stories we’d be telling if we were sitting on that bed in some hotel, or anywhere else, or any other time, where and when we gather(ed.) (Sharing them at the gatherings mentioned where we are present is a whole lot better that hoping someone is sharing them just before they lower us in the ground.)

All of those shared anecdotes of our past, all of those special times we remember, all of those ups, downs, ins, outs, peaks, and valleys of our lives, that are put into stories, and result in laughter, tears, high-fives, hugs, etc., tell others, but especially us, that our lives have had meaning and fulfillment. And that’s the reason I like to share mine.

1950’s author, writer, sometimes television personality, and noted radio personality, Jean Shepherd, was once quoted as saying, “You can tell a story about anything, but the only stories that have any fidelity, any feeling, are stories that either did happen to you, or conceivably, could have happened to you.”

Maybe that’s the reason people tell those stories at parties with so much passion, so much energy, and so much emotion. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t matter that we/they have told the story what seems like a gazillion times before, the feeling is that it bears repeating again, just in case there may be one new person in the room who hasn’t heard it before. Maybe it is in the words of the quote above that validates our stories, that gives them that fidelity, and that passion in how we tell them. Maybe it’s because the stories happened to us, or conceivably could have happened to someone listening to our stories.

It is no secret that I’m an overaged Jimmy Buffett groupie. I like his music. I like his stories that he has set to that music. His lyrics help me help myself and others. On his radio station, Radio Margaritaville (Sirius-XM), between songs they sometimes play soundbites from interviews with Jimmy Buffett, and in one of those, he mentions a conversation he had with his friend, noted author, Shel Silverstein, and the gist of it was that Buffett was asking him about writing and Silverstein told him to get a group of friends together, share a bottle of wine while everyone is talking, and then type it up. My interpretation of that is that the group, while sharing the wine and maybe loosening up a bit, would be sharing story after story after story, and when it’s done, if you are a songwriter, you might have dozens of sets of stories (lyrics) you could put to music.

I am not a musician. I try to sing, mostly in the front seat of my car with no one with me, or maybe just Sally, riding with me. I can’t hit the high notes anymore, but if it’s in the right key I might not sound too bad. I’ll do Karaoke from time to time, but haven’t soloed yet, for two reasons. One, if there are more than one person singing, others might not be able to figure out which one, or ones, are off key, and two, karaoke is often times done in places that serve alcoholic beverages, so many of the listeners might not even know, or care, if someone is singing off key, if you get my drift.

So not being too able to put my stories to music and share them that way, and having this opportunity to share my thoughts and words through this forum, I tell my stories through the pen, or more specifically, the keyboard, and my one index finger on each hand.

I hope, and wish, that all of you find the opportunities, and avenues, to tell all of your wonderful and amazing stories, however you can. I hope, too, if you might be a character in any of my tales, or I in any of yours, that each time we share them they’ll still ring like a bell, and we can imagine sitting on that bed in some hotel, listening to, and enjoying again, the stories we can tell.