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Thursday, April 14, 2005
Everybody Has a Story
I recently came across this link.
Does anyone know if CBS still runs this news segment? I haven't seen it. Regardless, I think it makes a good point:
Ordinary people have stories worth sharing! As the title of the show says, Everyone Has a Story.
I'm not so sure I would have agreed with the above claims until just a few years ago (I'll blog more about that soon).
Anyway, here's the scoop I found on the TV segment for CBS News:
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Everybody Has a Story – CBS TV Show
http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/hartman/main500155.shtml
(CBS) Every two weeks someone throws a dart at a map of America. CBS News correspondent Steve Hartman goes wherever it sticks, flips through the local phone book, and picks a name at random. He then does a story on someone at that house (assuming they’re willing, of course).
It doesn’t matter who they are or what they have to say. This is strictly first come, first served. No one is eliminated for any reason and every story gets on the air. The result – unique and wildly unpredictable television.
After meeting a family and convincing them that he really isn’t selling anything, Steve and his cameraman Les Rose usually spend about 2 days with their subjects. Much of the first day is spent trying to figure out the person’s “story”. The second day is mostly shooting and interviewing. Before leaving, the subject of the story throws the dart (backwards and over the shoulder to prevent aiming) sending them on their next adventure.
Since starting this project in 1998, Steve has profiled nearly 100 people from Maine to Miami -- from the Oregon coast to the Arizona desert. His youngest subject was a 5-year-old boy from Tennessee who likes to float balloons to his grandma in heaven. His oldest was an 87-year-old woman from Louisiana who still does her son’s laundry.
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Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Amistad "Lesson" Unpacked
“Now, what you don’t know and, as far as I can tell, haven’t bothered in the least to discover is WHO they are,” said President Adams.
( . . . Continued from previous posts )
Amistad, a 1997 Steven Spielberg production, is one of my favorites. In this scene with John Quincy Adams (Anthony Hopkins) and Theodore Joadson (Morgan Freeman), Adams gives Joadson an important “lesson” which contained a kernel of legal advice yet was mostly a wise commentary on the nature of human character. It is a lesson worth studying.
Sage advice often brings a reverent response and Joadson hangs on every word the brilliant Adams gives him. Known as “Old Man Eloquent” by his colleagues in the House of Representatives, Adams skillfully presents what years of courtroom experience and international diplomacy had taught him.
What exactly is the point of his lesson to Joadson? What is his advice? Truly, the lesson is profound and speaks truthfully of life inside and outside the courtroom.
Adams tells us: Like nothing else, an individual’s story powerfully describes his or her personal worth and significance. When a story is given a personal face, it becomes powerful.
Note how Adams helps Joadson discover this truth in the movie: Joadson himself had a story – an amazing story of escape, survival and beyond. Yet, in the course of being wrapped up in his profession, he often forgot his own personal story for the larger scope of abolishing slavery. Understanding his own story was so applicable to helping the courts understand the plight of the Africans, yet this point eluded him. Adams helped him see that his story was incredibly much more than the summation of his credentials.
Adams asked Joadson if he would dare to sum up his life as simply “a Georgian?” He pushed Joadson to consider how he would describe his life. To communicate the significance of his life, would he simply list his credentials – perhaps his family genealogy, his academic achievements or maybe his job title or job description? “NO! What is your STORY?” Adams asked.
( . . . Continued from previous posts )
Amistad, a 1997 Steven Spielberg production, is one of my favorites. In this scene with John Quincy Adams (Anthony Hopkins) and Theodore Joadson (Morgan Freeman), Adams gives Joadson an important “lesson” which contained a kernel of legal advice yet was mostly a wise commentary on the nature of human character. It is a lesson worth studying.
Sage advice often brings a reverent response and Joadson hangs on every word the brilliant Adams gives him. Known as “Old Man Eloquent” by his colleagues in the House of Representatives, Adams skillfully presents what years of courtroom experience and international diplomacy had taught him.
What exactly is the point of his lesson to Joadson? What is his advice? Truly, the lesson is profound and speaks truthfully of life inside and outside the courtroom.
Adams tells us: Like nothing else, an individual’s story powerfully describes his or her personal worth and significance. When a story is given a personal face, it becomes powerful.
Note how Adams helps Joadson discover this truth in the movie: Joadson himself had a story – an amazing story of escape, survival and beyond. Yet, in the course of being wrapped up in his profession, he often forgot his own personal story for the larger scope of abolishing slavery. Understanding his own story was so applicable to helping the courts understand the plight of the Africans, yet this point eluded him. Adams helped him see that his story was incredibly much more than the summation of his credentials.
Adams asked Joadson if he would dare to sum up his life as simply “a Georgian?” He pushed Joadson to consider how he would describe his life. To communicate the significance of his life, would he simply list his credentials – perhaps his family genealogy, his academic achievements or maybe his job title or job description? “NO! What is your STORY?” Adams asked.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Significance of Personal Stories - Part 3
(Continued from part 1 and part 2)
Adams’ responses to his pleas for advice seemed veiled in meaning, yet now Joadson saw that this was the President’s method of teaching. He wanted Joadson to discover it on his own. “Yes. What is their story?” Joadson thought. “I’m sure I can imagine some of it. . . . Theirs must be a story of suffering and horror. . . Yet I don’t want to push their story away – I want to know it! . . . Their story informs my personal story like no other . . . My story is their story! . . . Ah, if only the court could imagine and see just a fraction of their true story . . .”
From that point on, Joadson knew what he needed to do. He needed to tell their story! He needed to prove to the court much more than a country of origin for the Amistad slaves. He needed to prove the Amistad slaves were individual human beings – each with a unique story. “A person’s official credentials can only gain entry into a country, but a story will gain entry into the heart of individuals and a nation,” Joadson said to himself.
Joadson’s mind raced with ideas and he made several – too many – mental notes as to how he would inform the Amistad legal counsel about the advice gleaned from Adams. Finally, Joadson shut off the tidal wave of his thoughts, realizing he should voice a response to the lesson he had just received.
“I understand your point, sir. You speak the truth. I do not know their story. . . . But I will learn it. And know it by heart. . . . Their story is indeed the key. Yes, yes, their story proves their human character,” Joadson nodded as he unlocked his thoughts before the President. “Their story validates their dignity.”
“I’m much obliged for your time, sir. And, it has been an honor . . . I’m indeed grateful for your advice, Mr. President,” Joadson said.
Joadson left on the train the next morning, confident of the new direction for the case. He smiled the most contented smile he had produced in a long time.
Adams’ responses to his pleas for advice seemed veiled in meaning, yet now Joadson saw that this was the President’s method of teaching. He wanted Joadson to discover it on his own. “Yes. What is their story?” Joadson thought. “I’m sure I can imagine some of it. . . . Theirs must be a story of suffering and horror. . . Yet I don’t want to push their story away – I want to know it! . . . Their story informs my personal story like no other . . . My story is their story! . . . Ah, if only the court could imagine and see just a fraction of their true story . . .”
From that point on, Joadson knew what he needed to do. He needed to tell their story! He needed to prove to the court much more than a country of origin for the Amistad slaves. He needed to prove the Amistad slaves were individual human beings – each with a unique story. “A person’s official credentials can only gain entry into a country, but a story will gain entry into the heart of individuals and a nation,” Joadson said to himself.
Joadson’s mind raced with ideas and he made several – too many – mental notes as to how he would inform the Amistad legal counsel about the advice gleaned from Adams. Finally, Joadson shut off the tidal wave of his thoughts, realizing he should voice a response to the lesson he had just received.
“I understand your point, sir. You speak the truth. I do not know their story. . . . But I will learn it. And know it by heart. . . . Their story is indeed the key. Yes, yes, their story proves their human character,” Joadson nodded as he unlocked his thoughts before the President. “Their story validates their dignity.”
“I’m much obliged for your time, sir. And, it has been an honor . . . I’m indeed grateful for your advice, Mr. President,” Joadson said.
Joadson left on the train the next morning, confident of the new direction for the case. He smiled the most contented smile he had produced in a long time.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Significance of Personal Stories – Part 2
This is my own reconstruction of a particular scene from Amistad, which has remained fresh in my mind as an illustration of significance:
1839 - Quincy, Massachusetts
( Continued from Part 1 )
. . . Joadson had come to visit Mr. Adams at home to seek advice on a legal case. On trial were twenty-some-odd African slaves found shipwrecked on the Long Island coast, some six months after putting to sea as cargo aboard a Spanish vessel named La Amistad. During the voyage, the slaves broke their chains and murdered all the crew except two. The trial sought to settle the fate of the slaves, claimed by the Spaniards to be of Cuban origin – and therefore rightfully belonging to them (in 1839 slaves could be legally sold in Cuba). Joadson, and others, sought to prove to the court that these were in fact African natives captured illegally. To prove so would release the slaves and send a powerful statement to American black market slave traders that continued shipment of Africans would not be tolerated. So far, the court seemed to be more concerned with placating the agitations of the Spaniards and others who screamed injustice at the thought of releasing murderers. Even if the defense’s evidence proved the plaintiffs to be African, the prosecution presented the case as a picture of the currently divided American sentiment towards slavery in 1839: partially condoned by majority, condemned by a conservative yet marginalized minority.
. . . Finally, the answer came. “NO! Mr. Joadson, you’re an ex-slave who has devoted his life to the abolitionist movement with many trials and hardships along the way I imagine. Now, THAT is your story, isn’t it?” Mr. Joadson nodded as he began to understand the lesson.
“You have proved WHAT the slaves are, Mr. Joadson, . . . they’re Africans! Congratulations! But what you don’t know and haven’t bothered in the least to discover is WHO they are. . . . Right?”
A smile crept onto Joadson’s face much like a spider approaches the delicate edge of her web. At last, he began to see the key. “Ahh. He was listening!” Joadson thought to himself as excitement kindled inside his chest.
Moments earlier, he had started to wonder if he was wasting his time, explaining the case to the old man mumbling and pacing in front of the fireplace. Although Joadson knew well from public record that Adams agreed with some abolitionist philosophy, the President had seemed as slow as molasses to attach any personal interest to the case.
Even after directly posing the question, “Mr. President, if it was you handling the case, what would you do?” Adams’ response seemed veiled: He plodded over to his armchair, lit his pipe as he sat down, and tersely replied, “I’ve learned through many years of trial and error that, in the courtroom, whoever tells the best story . . . wins! In very unlawyer-like fashion, I offer you that scrap of wisdom free of charge!”
(To be continued)
1839 - Quincy, Massachusetts
( Continued from Part 1 )
. . . Joadson had come to visit Mr. Adams at home to seek advice on a legal case. On trial were twenty-some-odd African slaves found shipwrecked on the Long Island coast, some six months after putting to sea as cargo aboard a Spanish vessel named La Amistad. During the voyage, the slaves broke their chains and murdered all the crew except two. The trial sought to settle the fate of the slaves, claimed by the Spaniards to be of Cuban origin – and therefore rightfully belonging to them (in 1839 slaves could be legally sold in Cuba). Joadson, and others, sought to prove to the court that these were in fact African natives captured illegally. To prove so would release the slaves and send a powerful statement to American black market slave traders that continued shipment of Africans would not be tolerated. So far, the court seemed to be more concerned with placating the agitations of the Spaniards and others who screamed injustice at the thought of releasing murderers. Even if the defense’s evidence proved the plaintiffs to be African, the prosecution presented the case as a picture of the currently divided American sentiment towards slavery in 1839: partially condoned by majority, condemned by a conservative yet marginalized minority.
. . . Finally, the answer came. “NO! Mr. Joadson, you’re an ex-slave who has devoted his life to the abolitionist movement with many trials and hardships along the way I imagine. Now, THAT is your story, isn’t it?” Mr. Joadson nodded as he began to understand the lesson.
“You have proved WHAT the slaves are, Mr. Joadson, . . . they’re Africans! Congratulations! But what you don’t know and haven’t bothered in the least to discover is WHO they are. . . . Right?”
A smile crept onto Joadson’s face much like a spider approaches the delicate edge of her web. At last, he began to see the key. “Ahh. He was listening!” Joadson thought to himself as excitement kindled inside his chest.
Moments earlier, he had started to wonder if he was wasting his time, explaining the case to the old man mumbling and pacing in front of the fireplace. Although Joadson knew well from public record that Adams agreed with some abolitionist philosophy, the President had seemed as slow as molasses to attach any personal interest to the case.
Even after directly posing the question, “Mr. President, if it was you handling the case, what would you do?” Adams’ response seemed veiled: He plodded over to his armchair, lit his pipe as he sat down, and tersely replied, “I’ve learned through many years of trial and error that, in the courtroom, whoever tells the best story . . . wins! In very unlawyer-like fashion, I offer you that scrap of wisdom free of charge!”
(To be continued)
