The Night Someone Told a Story and the Street Changed a Little | A Neighborly Tip
The Night Someone Told a Story and the Street Changed a Little | A Neighborly Tip Photo by Erika Fletcher (@joyshotsphotos) I noticed something at the first storytelling night I attended — nobody checked their phone. Not once. There were maybe fourteen of us crowded into a neighbor's living room, mismatched chairs pulled from three different houses, and a woman named Gloria was telling us about the time she got on the wrong bus in 1987 and ended up at a funeral for a man she'd never met. She stayed for the whole thing. She said it felt rude to leave. Everyone laughed, but gently, the way you laugh when something is also a little bit true about yourself. I think that was the moment I understood what storytelling nights are actually for — and it isn't entertainment. There's a particular kind of loneliness that can settle into a neighborhood where people are perfectly polite but don't really know each other. We wave. We hold the elevator. We say "cra...