My ol’ man has recently crossed the LOD for “Operation De-clutter,” and has been sharing with us paraphernalia he has uncovered regarding our extended family line. As he uncovers them, collectively we are trying to piece together their lives and experiences, mostly through the bits of evidence left behind. Growing up I remember hearing bits and pieces of certain events which inevitably became larger than life stories in my child’s eye. Recognizing this bias, in our attempt to understand our roots we are left with only black & white images, administrative documents and a few letters written by friends we had never known.
The other day, my father came across a “Report of Separation; Honorable Discharge” for my Great Uncle Art whom I’d never met. What we knew already is that he served as a combat photographer in the US Army during WWII and was one of the first to stumble across the atrocities of the Nazi Concentration Camps. Though he passed prior to my birth, I remember as a young child, putting together a school project on the great war. My grandparents, upon hearing as much, handed me an envelope of the photo’s Art took upon entering that wretched camp. I recall the gaunt bodies, seemingly walking skeleton’s, staring blankly back into the camera and the stacks of dead women and children, mouths agape towards the fruitless sky. These images alone opened my eyes to the cruel realities of this world and yet left me wondering even more. Those walking skeleton’s black eyes only hinted at something strikingly horrendous. The only known thoughts of my Great Uncle’s was that this was something that needed to be captured for the annals of history. Perhaps in this case, none more needed to be said. Yet perhaps if we had talked, we may have learned something more.
There’s a lot of my family history that I don’t know and like most, I’ve only personally met a few generations deep and that was as a young kid too dumb to ask questions. What I do know is surface level; that those generations had a tough life. The Great Depression and World Wars on the larger spectrum, hard work and hunger or even a young sibling’s death on a more personal level. Maybe it’s because of the exhaustion from it all, both physical and emotional, that no one wanted to talk. Or maybe it’s because they simply assumed we wouldn’t understand nor care, having never experienced anything remotely close to it. Let’s face it, we’ve got it pretty great as Americans today and yet many feel overwhelmingly “oppressed” because someone just made an assumption about their gender identity (gasp). But I wouldn’t understand any of that because I’m a “white guy” and as MTV pointed out, I’ve got some things to “do a little better” here in 2017. Quite frankly, because of this and a thousand other reasons, I don’t want to talk to people either. Nonetheless, story telling remains a part of our DNA, shaping our future and who we are. Whether you realize it or not, much of our day is spent telling stories, if not about ourselves than about someone else either professionally or even in the form of gossip.
Studies suggest that stories truly serve a purpose in our evolutionary design. I think of how many times I’ve told my boys to be careful when they’re using a knife as a substitute tool. When I approach them and say, “If that knife slips right now, due to the position of your left arm, you will stab it,” I am quickly told “Ya dad I got it. I’ll be careful.” But if I instead walked up to them and said, “You know, during a training exercise I was at in Bridgeport, I was up late prepping my gear for an early morning patrol. I was adding a magazine pouch to my flak jacket and was using a knife to feed the pouch straps through the gear. I had my left arm exactly where yours is now. It slipped and I stuck that 4-inch blade straight into my forearm. Here’s the scar.” Their eyes widen…and they move their arm.
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It is well known that stories were integral throughout history to pass on history and lessons, well before any form of documentation came into existence. Many argue that we’ve lost the art of it. But the idea of storytelling hasn’t necessarily gone away. As I mentioned, it’s part of our DNA. But in most cases, in our modern society, with modern technology, it’s still missing that certain something. Recently I updated my Facebook app and a new feature appeared. Right at the top, it says “Your Story,” screaming to be clicked on. Click and you will see that you can send pictures or videos to certain friends or “add to your story.” Admittedly, I haven’t tried it. I haven’t done so because just like the pictures from my Great Uncle Art and those discharge papers, it still leaves the recipient guessing as to who you really are. How many of you veterans or even non-veterans have lost a close friend to suicide, and you are simply stunned? Their Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter told a different story. You see nothing but smiling faces, pranks, and possibly a clear disdain for one particular political party. But again, it’s nothing but pictures in a shoebox and a few papers. And suddenly you realize that we all completely missed the real story; perhaps were even manipulated by the story presented to us. You begin to wonder, what was he thinking when he took that picture in the sands of Iraq holding that rifle? Was he scared? Or is the reason he just posted that photo just a week earlier simply because it was the only time in his life that he felt something worthwhile?
A 2014 article from The Atlantic states that “stories can be a way for humans to feel that we have control over the world. They allow people to see patterns where there is chaos, meaning where there is randomness. Humans are inclined to see narratives where there are none because it can afford meaning to our lives – a form of existential problem solving.” I would argue that this is true in both hearing stories and sharing your own. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that can be found on an Instagram or Facebook feature alone.
As The Atlantic points out, “perhaps the real reason that we tell stories…is because humans WANT to be a part of a shared history.” At Sheepdog Strong, we want to harness the power of storytelling and publish yours. If you are serving or have served in the military, law-enforcement, or first responder communities, we would like to share your story. In addition, once per month we will select one author and donate $100 to a nonprofit charity of his or her choice. If you’re a terrible writer, no worries. We’ll clean it up for you. Go to www.sheepdogstrong.com or email me at alpha@sheepdogstrong.com for more information. And perhaps in doing so, we will forever be more than a shoebox full of papers and pictures.
-Tony
Founder / Sheepdog Strong
Sheepdog Strong 