I was twenty-two when I lost my mum to cancer and still a student with a part-time job. She was a single parent and a massive fighter. A couple of weeks before she died, she started to become very insistent on one unusual thing - pickling vegetables. Any Balkan/Eastern European friends here would know what I am talking about. Mandatory jars of pickled tomatoes, gherkins, peppers, cauliflower and carrots, and the king of them all - Ajvar (roasted red peppers sauce) would decorate the basement or the kitchen cupboards. Usually, people would work on these at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn to prepare for the winter. There are many explanations, but in the Balkan context, it was a good way to prepare for the harsh winters and an effective way to stock food supplies.
My family did not normally do this as it required a lot of preparation and logistics, including sacks of peppers and fresh produce. However, that 2008 summer was different. My mum became obsessed with it. She even asked next-door neighbours and relatives for help even though she could not do much because of her illness. It was a very sad and stressful period; my thoughts were in all directions but not in pickling food. I even had a fight with her that what she was doing had no point and didn’t make any sense.
Many years later, I do get her. While the aggressiveness of the cancer was changing her physical appearance, her motherhood instincts became really strong and noticeable. Knowing that she was not going to make it and nearing the end, all she wanted was to ensure I would have enough food to go through the winter so that I would not starve. The neighbours and relatives, I think, understood this and helped her prepare a few dozen jars of pickled food. She died on the first day of September fifteen years ago.
Her mental preoccupation with making sure that I would be fed and survive that winter was highly exacerbated by her illness. Still, deeply inside her, with this gesture, she was able to show how much she loved and cared for me. I witnessed first-hand her parental love and instincts.
This personal story is a good introduction to this week’s writing about the role storytelling plays in the intergenerational transmission of values and how you can recognise this process, be proactive, and acknowledge this gift.
We’ve all been there. Social and family gatherings where a family member starts to share stories from their past. Our loved one is eager and enthusiastic about their story, willing to tell us all about it. The only problem is, we’ve heard this story before, probably many times before.
The other problem, of course, is that whenever we hear any of these stories, we make a conscious decision not to pay enough attention to *actually listen* to the story, and we either don’t remember the story at all after a while, or remember just small fragments of it.
Repeated storytelling can, for some people, be an alarm about the health of their loved ones. This is because the main concern is whether, by repeating the same stories, we somehow fear what we think might be their forgetfulness.
The repeated storytelling sparked the interest of a group of researchers in Canada from Queen’s University to try and understand this phenomenon better.
The research findings, published in September of last year, incorporate interviews with caregivers who have been in these situations and analysed the stories they’ve been repeatedly told by their loved ones. They analysed 126 stories from 13 participants.
The main takeaway is that there are roughly ten stories that are constantly being repeated. The other main finding is that these stories all carry highly important and sometimes encrypted messages that, if understood correctly, can translate into values and meanings being shared through storytelling. This allows the storytellers to feel that their legacy will be remembered and transmitted to other generations. It also helps your loved ones consolidate their identity and be assured they will be remembered.
The research also suggests that the biggest percentage of the stories being told over and over again comes from the second and third decades of the storyteller’s life. This is thought to be so because, in our 20s or 30s, we make probably the most crucial decisions about our lives. The underlying themes of the stories analysed reflected global events and values that took place and were typical for the beginning and mid-twentieth century.
Although many decades later, quite a few people easily relate to this, and not much has changed. Global events still play a vital role in shaping our daily lives (take Covid as a prime example). The “future me” would also look and reflect on the big decisions I’ve made in my 30s, like deciding to spend five years on a PhD and moving to the UK.
Another important consideration about storytelling from the research is that our personal stories are not sitting idle in the back of our brains, waiting to be activated. They are rather constantly formed, constructed-deconstructed, shaped and influenced by internal and external factors.
People tell stories for eight specific reasons:
consolidate identity;
solve problems in the present or future;
deal with old hurts or conflicts from the past;
maintain a connection with absent loved ones;
teach or inform others; to participate in social conversations,
prepare for death, and to reduce boredom.
The researchers from Queen’s University working on the topic confirmed some of these expectations. The biggest number of stories they analysed had the underlying theme of identity reinforcement and the need to instruct or educate. Identity reinforcement is integral to telling the truth about who we are and what we stand for.
The second reason for telling stories was the educational component, which fits with this more general notion of parenting, something always there regardless of the age of the children or the parents. This, according to the paper, could also strengthen the fabric of the relationships in the family.
The paper also outlines a set of recommendations to caregivers, which would be helpful to everyone in a situation where they hear one of the ten stories.
1. The authors call for a change in the approach when we are presented with repeated storytelling. Instead of telling the person that we have heard this story before, one should listen more carefully to what is in the story that they are trying to transmit to us in the form of values and experiences. This can be achieved by temporarily detaching oneself from all the factual information given in the story and becoming an active listeners interested in the substance of the story.
2. By now, you would probably have a vague idea about several repeated stories you’ve heard from your loved ones over time. Start by identifying the ten stories and observing your loved one’s emotional responses when they are storytelling.
3. The next task would be pinpointing their role in the story. The research shows that this is where the encrypted intergenerational message you are supposed to uncover is situated.
4. And lastly, make sure you write the stories and the messages you hear from your loved ones. That way, you are preserving their legacy.
Storytelling is a prominent feature in memoir writing. Writing memoirs and biographies is essentially one big storyline of someone’s life or important episodes of that life. It brings their stories to life because it involves a range of emotions and personal experiences to preserve their legacy by transmitting their life lessons and values to their loved ones. This can be a highly self-reflective exercise for some as it allows them to explore the past and perhaps gain a greater self-awareness of themselves, the people around them and their decisions throughout life. Such a deep reflection also allows for a greater level of empathy with the readers of the memoir.
Thanks for reading, AB
Loved reading Andreja’s piece? Why not buy him a coffee. It’s a great way to say cheers.
Photo by little plant on Unsplash
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