Everyone loves a good story. Particularly one that will make you laugh. Somehow, in today’s world, the art of story-telling, isn’t what it used to be. There is nothing more engaging at a dinner party than a good story. And, as my wife accuses me of quite often, you don’t need to let a few facts get in the way of a good story.
January 26, 2020 would have been my father’s 100th birthday. He was an excellent story teller and the master of the clever one-liner. Dad was a college professor and dean. My father had a doctorate in rhetoric, the written and spoken word. (His smart-ass son once teased him by saying he had a doctorate in BS). His passion was the art of communication and at the cornerstone of his belief was one of the best ways to communicate with people is to tell them a story. A piece of me believes one reason he enjoyed teaching was that it guaranteed him a captive audience for his stories.
My father used to claim that we are part Jewish. My grandfather’s aunt, whose name was Selma Diamond, was his sponsor that helped him to emigrate from Ireland to the United States at the turn of the 20th century. My father told the story that his brother, who was catholic priest, had to come home from the monastery in prewar Germany because of this Jewish ancestry. What a story it is to say I had an uncle who was a Catholic priest on the Jewish side of our family.
Before my dad passed away, I did an oral history where I documented several of his stories. After he died, I went to visit my uncle who was then retired and living in a monastery at Villanova University in Philadelphia. My uncle, who we called Rev, (Short for Reverend) read the story about our Jewish ancestry and his having to come home from Germany and he asked me: “Who told you that?”. I told him that my father, his brother Ed had told me the story. To which he complained: “I didn’t come because I was Jewish. I was a Catholic priest. I came home because it was time to come home”.
Since then I have asked my mother (97) and other relatives about my father’s story. It is true that my grandfather had an aunt named Selma Diamond from Brooklyn who might have been Jewish, but she may have been an aunt through marriage. Recently my son Brian has taken a DNA test. He may not have Jewish markers in his DNA, but you know what, he is a good story teller, and his sister Jennifer has a clever wit, just like their grandfather.
(Brian on the Swilken Bridge in St. Andrews Scotland)
Jennifer with her “pose” at the after-party on her wedding day
A good story that people can connect with will always be a hit at a supper club dinner party. Throw in a little humor and a bottle of good wine and you will have good evening.
Dad passed away 25 years ago, but his stories, and humor, live on. Yes his son loves to tell a good story and now his grandchildren and soon his great grandchildren will be telling those same stories and one liners. Let’s just hope, they don’t let a few facts get in the way of a good story.
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