The Stories We Live
After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.
– Philip Pullman
It’s a perfect fall day in Portland, the kind I remember from childhood, crackly, cool air and long shadows cast by a motherly sun. It’s the kind of day that smacks of some unknown new beginning, some yet to be discovered possibilities, so many stories yet to be told. When you live in Portland, you know that the damp and gray is just around the corner, waiting to pounce, so you savor days like these. It’s a survival tactic, or perhaps a sanity tactic.
Like many, if not most, of us who were around on September 11, 2001, I’ve been mulling over my own story from that day, the way it seemed as though the announcer was speaking a foreign language through my car radio as I drove to PSU that morning, the way it didn’t seem real until I went to work at Starbucks and was told that we were closing down for fear that we might fall prey to additional attacks, the way a cold beer felt in my hand in the middle of the day at a bar across the street, my eyes glued to the large-screen TV. Our collective shock morphed into our collective grief morphed into our collective story – an “I remember where I was when” story.
In my line of work, I hear and read a lot of stories: Funny stories, heart-breaking stories, stories that inspire and fascinate me, stories that vex me and propel me into action. That’s what we at Analogy hope to capture in our pages, those stories that give a glimpse into the lives we live, lives that can change forever in an instant, lives that persist through the mundane and exceptional alike.