Gentin describes the experience:
"My friend runs an assisted living residence not far from where I live. When she called to say she had a mitzvah (a good deed) for me that was 'right up my alley,' I was wary, to put it mildly. She explained that she was running an event where the residents would play a game encouraging them to share, open mic style, stories from their lives. My friend knows I write — essays, memoir pieces, a novel. I tell stories.
'Will you come?' she asked.
I wanted to say no. As my children will tell you, with the rare exception of a Shabbat round of Scrabble or Bananagrams, I don’t play games. Maybe I’m uptight, or just no fun, but games are not my thing. The idea of helping to facilitate an octogenarian quiz show was not high on my list."
She continues later in the article, "The stories of the residents, though brief, are filled with gratitude and pathos. One woman says that she is heartbroken to have been forced to leave her home, but others are clearly thriving. And there is much humor. One woman is asked to describe something she wishes she were good at but isn’t. She admits that she can’t come up with anything, and asks if she can list the things she does well. Another agrees to play the game, but when she gets the microphone, refuses to answer the question on the card.
She has another story to tell.
Back in my seat, I feel that rush that comes with being vulnerable, and then finding acceptance. We’re family now.
Telling our stories is life affirming. Telling our stories is critical. Our stories are what we will always have left."
Read more about Reyna's experience here.
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