Stories

Stories don't exist until they are told....
Over the last few months I have had the fun of editing transcripts of interviews for the Barmera Library Oral History Project. This mean reading the stories of real people in our community, some of whom are still alive and others who have died. The interviews were originally oral and I sometimes refer to the recordings to clarify parts of the transcript which are unreal. And so I hear the voice of women and men describing their experiences, their stories.
The wonders of Google have  enabled me to put together some of the pieces that are missing or unclear eg the varieties of grapes that used to be grown in earlier days, the names of the first principal of the local high school, famous for being a league football player.
Each story details the background story of the person - their parents, where they were born, what brought them to the area, what role they payed in work life, home life and during events such as the Depression, the wars and, the 1956 flood, what school was like, what the town was like and so on.
The stories have many similarities  - hard work, hard times good times. But each is unique. I listen to the voices and fall in love with each of them, marvel at their resilience, love the turn of phrase that marks their conversation.
Just recently we celebrated Easter and I marvelled yet again at the stories of those who encountered the risen Christ. The reaction of each of them - Mary Magdalene in the garden, the couple on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus, and many others - was to tell their story. They ran back to the others to say,'We have seen him.' What if they hadn't?
What if the stories of the Barmera people were not recorded, what if families don't tell the stories of life and love and faith.
A story only exists when it is told....