Just Hurry Up and Listen

By Chuck Ayers
I am certainly not a trained historian. But lately when I chat with elderly men or women and engage them in conversation about their early growing up experiences, I attempt to follow their personal chronicles with great interest. This is surely aided by my little pocket digital recorder. I have recently been able to harvest an abundance of colorful history from senior town's folks. And, usually the most unsuspecting common and humble person generally has the most interesting story to tell, people who often shy away from talking about themselves. People from the back streets of society. People such as: Farmers plowing with mules, oil field workers missing fingers, farmer's wives cooking with wood burning stoves, or immigrant mill workers, for the most part, have the richest accounts of life. All who had carried the weight while carving out hard earned history.
Almost all these ordinary people have captivating stories. A spoken life's narrative Otherwise known as oral history. A verbal history seeming to be the mortar that bonds together the larger brick house of history.
Once an older person begins recounting his or her past, I usually have a tendency to ask too many questions born out of curiosity. However, I am learning to just let them naturally pour out their fountain of memories like an Oklahoma gusher. But, I want to know everything. I feel we have limited time to explore their rich experiences. So many people to talk to. Many questions to ask. So little time left in their lives. And most importantly, so much we amateur oral historians can learn.
What I like about oral history is the emotion and honesty heard in the speaker's voice. You know they've been there and experienced history up close and personal. Hands-on living history. They have a convincing sincere tone. Most matter of fact but no big deal. And, to them, it was just another experience filed away in to their deep well of memories.
These "Salt of the earth" people sometimes had incredible Experiences and for the moment, forgotten. Buried away until someone like myself goes in the goldmine of his or her memory to extracts a priceless experiential nugget. Usually an experience that seems worlds away from our own experience. A spoken capsule of history that sometimes aids in connecting the historical dots from the past to the present.

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