“I think it never stopped amazing him. It went like this: When producers would come into his office to pitch a segment, if they started telling him about an issue, or a law that needed to be changed, or a scam that was making the rounds, he would put up his hand to stop them and he’d say, ‘Tell me a story.’ Don was certain that these four words were what kept 60 Minutes at the top of the ratings for decades.”
Are you telling a story? Is your audience listening?
Though she never explicitly said so, my mother, a product of the Great Depression and World War II, viewed books as a luxury and reading as a privilege, and her actions spoke volumes. When I was growing up, our house was filled with thousands of books – and Mom treasured each one, revered for both their physical and literary value. Reading was one of Mom’s favorite pastimes, and she did her best to instill a passion for reading in my three siblings and me. Good-natured, but consistent, my mother’s response to any of our childhood complaints of boredom was, “Go read a book.” And with our own children a generation later, she was similarly unwavering: reading was a chance to become lost in a story, to spark our imaginations or have a virtual adventure that might open our eyes, our hearts, or our minds. Decades later, books remain a preferred gift for my siblings and me, a perfect way to acknowledge a special occasion or milestone event, a treasure to keep and to share.
Are you telling a story? Do you share it with purpose and passion? Will it evoke a response?
Nearly 50 years ago, economist Milton Friedman clearly and firmly argued that the sole purpose of business was to generate profit for shareholders. In stark contrast, earlier this year, Larry Fink, CEO of BlackRock Investments, the largest money management firm in the world with more than $6 trillion assets under management, sent a letter to chief executive officers of the world’s largest, most successful public companies informing them that they and their organizations have a responsibility beyond increased profitability – an obligation to pursue a purpose that also addresses our collective social, economic and environmental needs. Long a fierce proponent of sustainable growth, Fink asserts in his 2017 correspondence, “…the public expectations of your company have never been greater. Society is demanding that companies, both public and private, serve a social purpose. To prosper over time, every company must not only deliver financial performance, but also show how it makes a positive contribution to society.” Though the impact of Fink’s message, delivered with humility and conviction, is not yet known, it is prompting an important discussion that has the potential to benefit companies as well as their employees, customers, shareholders and communities.
Are you telling a story? Is it timely and relevant?
Valeria Luiselli is a young, critically acclaimed Mexican novelist and essayist who grew up in South Africa and now lives in the United States. Her latest book is Tell Me How It Ends, An Essay in Forty Questions. Elegantly written, this work is a personal and poignant narrative about the physical and bureaucratic challenges faced by tens of thousands of undocumented children from Central America as they make the treacherous journey from their home countries of El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala across the Mexico border in search of freedom, safety and U.S. citizenship. As a volunteer interpreter for an immigration court in New York City, Luiselli is tasked with asking the children 40 questions on the immigration intake questionnaire in Spanish and translating their responses, attempting to tell the story of their young lives that may determine their fate. In the course of Luiselli’s work, her five-year-old daughter hears some of the children’s stories and begs, with the natural innocence and persistence of a child, “Tell me how it ends, Mamma.” Though Luiselli is unable to provide the clarity or certainty of a happy ending that her daughter demands, her story and the stories of the children she helps highlight the reality and urgency of our American responsibility to the spirit of Emma Lazarus’ most famous words. In the end, Luiselli offers a glimmer of hope – a small, but committed group of students at Hofstra University who determine to help the most fortunate of the young Central American refugees … those who are permitted to stay.
Are you telling a story? Is it authentic to who you are and what you believe?
As I read Valeria Luiselli’s essay … and listen to daily news, I am deeply troubled. Appalled and sickened by the rising wave of bigotry and our leaders’ response. Weighed down by stories of injustice, dishonesty, corruption and ignorance. Frightened by the threats we face – from foreign powers, climate change and one another.
But, I am also hopeful … as I read and hear stories of activism and resistance – the sanctuary cities, the increasing number of women and millennials who are running for office, the Hofstra students helping young refugees and the BlackRock letter that demands greater corporate contribution to society.
As a young adult, I learned that while my mom loved to read, she rarely read a book from beginning to end – especially if the plot included significant moments of tension (which, of course, most good stories do). Instead, when she reached the point in the story approaching its climax, she would flip to the end of the book to read how the story resolved before continuing with the chapters in chronological order.
I believe we are approaching that point in America’s story – after significant moments of tension, many of us yearn for the comfort of knowing how our current story will resolve. In the midst of our nation’s unfolding story, we are drawn to the power of authentic stories, told by purpose-driven organizations and individuals who show us the resilience of the human spirit. And that might be even better than knowing how it’s going to end.