Fresh Ground Stories Seattle Storytelling Meetup Group

I'm standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at the last thing you want to see. Water on the floor. Lots of it. Like an inch at least, which seems impossible since the bathroom isn't an inch lower than the living room. But there it is. A tiny lake in my tiny bathroom. A few feet away, I see a stream of water coming out of the toilet tank. I have no idea how long it's been draining, but it's clearly been a while.

I run to the toilet to turn off the water and prepare myself for step #2. Going into the basement. I splash out of the bathroom, squish to the kitchen, and run down the stairs to the basement, where water is pouring out of the ceiling.

I am the least handy person in the world. I can build a lot of things: an argument, a pillow fort, a wall around my heart. But I can’t build or fix anything regarding a house. So all I know as I look out across this sunken sea is that I can't afford to hire someone to fix this, and that a lot of my guy friends would be able to repair all this in a weekend.

Just then, my phone rings. I see it's my buddy Ruben, who I've known for 20 years and who also happens to be my insurance agent. I pick it up and say, “Hey, I'm doing the backstroke in my basement. I think I might have to file a claim.”

Thirty minutes later, Ruben’s at my door with a ShopVac. In the meantime, my friend Zac called to see if I want to go to dinner, and I tell him I can't cause I'm bass fishing in the basement. Twenty minutes later, he's over with a ShopVac. While he sets up his Suck-O-Matic, Ruben goes upstairs, removes the toilet, and throws it in the front yard. Then he comes downstairs and says, “Go to Home Depot and get a toilet. Me and Zac will take care of Lake Currington.”

Zac and Ruben have never met each other, but now they're brothers in flood mitigation. Neither of them mentions that they know more about what's happening to my house than I do. When I tell Ruben I don't know how to install a toilet, he says he knows and that's why he's going to do it.

So I buy a toilet. Ruben installs it. Zac walks up and down the stairs to my basement, tossing buckets of water into the front yard. It's 9 pm. The toilet exploded around 5. They've been here three hours and have no plans to leave. And nobody mentions that if it wasn't for them, I'd still be waiting for a $200/hour plumber to come by.

It's been two years since that happened, and neither of my buddies has ever mentioned how helpless I was that night. They've never teased me about not knowing a ShopVac from a TicTac. And they haven't criticized me for buying an 80-year-old house when all I’ve ever lived in is apartments with landlords to take care of things. The gift they gave me that night wasn't home repair, it was dignity.

Come out on the 19th and tell a story about a tiny act that someone did for you that changed things. Was it an act of kindness just when you needed it? Was it a helping hand at the right moment from someone who had no idea what it meant to you? Maybe it's just a neighbor who always says hi and makes you feel welcome.

Remember, all stories need to have something at stake. Ask yourself what obstacle you're trying to overcome in this story and go from there.

Practice your story out loud on as many people as possible and time yourself when you’re doing it. Please don’t get onstage if you haven’t practiced your story. The audience is giving you their time and attention. It’s not fair to them if you get up there and try to wing it.

All stories have to be under 8 minutes. Stories can be as short as you want, but not over 8 minutes. Stories also have to be clean in both language and content. Send me an email if you have any questions about that.