I found a one page article in the February 16, 2009 issue of Newsweek. In it, the author Ann Banks wrote:
“If my grandmother Blanche were around to read the headlines today, I know just what story she would tell” in the mid-1920’s, at the height of the Florida land rush, she was working in a real-estate office in Palm Beach. Times were flush and sales were booming. This exuberance was on display in the showy mosaic map of Florida embedded in the office floor.
To highlight Palm Beach, the artist had cemented in a shiny silver dollar. Before long, the speculative bubble burst, helped along by a hurricane. One morning my grandmother and her colleagues arrived at the office to discover that someone had chiseled the silver dollar right out of the floor. Times were hard.
Blanche ended up losing her house, her car and all the money she had saved for my father’s educations. Those things, though, she seldom mentioned. Instead, she told me about the stolen silver dollar. It comforted my grandmother, I believe, by reminder her that in her misfortune she was far from alone.
I was raised on Depression stories; this was only one of many told around our dinner table. Hearing them again and a gain, I became fascinated by the role that stories play during hard times—the way they seem to strengthen people, offering a bulwark against loneliness and feelings of personal failure…”
She wrapped up her article with the sentiment, “We need again to imagine a future that is meaningful in the face of difficult circumstances. Listening to each other’s stories may grand us a sense of common purpose that money can’t buy.”
Behold the power of writing. Ficly-teers, tell us your stories. Draw us in, and help us relate to your experience in this crazy world. Imagine that brighter future. Or imagine the dark future that haunts your dreams. Write. Tell your story. Come together.