#253: Memories of Magic

One way I've tried to keep my dad's spirit alive is by pushing myself to exhibit his bold presence wherever I go. The memories that bring a huge smile to my face actually are ones that involved strangers... I always admired him for the conversations he'd strike up with the locals in foreign cities, even if he didn't quite speak their language. Or how he'd make the vendor at Costco burst out laughing while trying a cheese sample. Or how he'd act like he personally knew every person who was in line behind us at any store. I loved his openness and willingness to connect with just about anyone who looked his way... or didn't. After reading Corey's blog, I'd like to think his Grandpop and my dad would have been friends, and have left the earth a bit brighter through their genuine curiosity and natural engagement with others. 

-Amanda

Memories of Magic

When I was young, I idolized my Grandpop’s ability to speak with anyone, anywhere, about anything. His curiosity about the questions he had always seemed to win compared to the social worry of putting himself out there and connecting with a new human. It didn’t even seem to be a factor for him, which was quite remarkable to teenager-Corey. He’d speak with policemen, passers by, store clerks, and even engage telemarketers in diversions from their sales script. It was the gift of gab, his inner curiosity; and to me it was like magic.

As I grew up and left for college, I realized there were lots of people I wanted to talk with, and no scarcity of questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t quite know how to make my own magic. I started to pretend I was Grandpop, and imagined how he would engage with someone. Slowly, a model of his method for how to speak with anyone slowly started to formulate: clear question, identify the audience, interrupt, speak, follow-up, and farewell. It seems simple when laid out like that, but at first, I had to practice each phase (and make lots of mistakes!) until I felt an amateur comprehension of the format in full. 

It started to feel like each conversation, each interaction, had components that needed to be included in certain measurements, and in a certain order, for the best outcome. And it would vary a little according to the audience’s tastes, but not too much. Kind of like cooking a meal. 

You know, you probably want to grease the pan with a “hello!” and start a sauté of some “how’s it going?” before you get to the main cook of your “what do YOU think about what’s happening with the big renovation down the street?”. 

It wasn’t until after my Grandpop had passed that I noticed some hints of my own mastery coming through: a willingness to approach and talk with people I didn’t know, a greater curiosity about my surroundings (giving me access to situational questions), and a reduction of wrapping my self-worth up with holding a “successful” conversation. In a way, it felt more important to me to continue his practice of connecting with people now that he was no longer here to do it himself. I suppose it’s my way of honoring my memory of him, and the marvel I felt for his magnetism.

“When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready... The teacher will Disappear.” - the Tao Te Ching