I have considered writing the story of my life for a long time. But something held me back. There are a lot of reasons why people, myself included, procrastinate. We all have our own reasons for putting things off. You could be lacking in self-confidence and unable to start things for fear of failure. Or you could be lazy and have difficulty finishing things.

But my justification for procrastinating is not any of those. My reason is that since I was a young child, I loved telling people stories of my daily experiences. As a child, most of my experiences were similar to other children my age. So, at some point, at a subconscious level, I decided that I would embellish my stories. You know, tweak it here, tweak it there. Make it a little more interesting, more spellbinding. Take the mundane experience up a notch. That’s not so bad. I never considered it to be lying. I considered it to be similar to creative writing. I never thought of it as a lie. Or if it was a lie, it was only a white lie. In other words a harmless lie. But, my ultimate goal was to entertain people by telling them interesting and funny stories to make them laugh.

I told most of my “stories” to my family at dinnertime. At first, my parents seemed to believe every word that spilled out of my mouth. My siblings were not quite so easily led astray. They would sit at the dinner table quietly with a look of disbelief on their faces. And at the end of one of my tales, they would either laugh or say something to the effect of, “what you got to be kidding? And they would start laughing. My father would say, “oh brother, you must have really kissed that blarney stone. That was a good one, and then he laughed and laughed and laughed. Which means he thought I was exaggerating.

Well, to be perfectly honest, I did have a tendency to exaggerate. But, then, doesn’t every writer have that proclivity? And I didn’t just share my stories at the dinner table., I told them to my friends, their parents, all our neighbors, and strangers on the street waiting for the bus. I loved a captive audience. I would start by saying, “hello, how are you. And then I would say, “oh, you know what happened to me?” And off I would go.

Sometimes, I really got carried away with myself and didn’t know when to stop. And the people would eventually try to escape by saying, “oh, here comes my bus, nice talking to you, little girl or I have to be going. I’ll be late for work. One older man that waited on the corner of Main Street at the bus stop always said the same thing. “ I have to go. I have a dentist’s appointment. I’m having a tooth pulled.” The day he said that for the last time that I talked to him, I said, “I’m surprised you have any teeth left to get pulled out.” I knew I had met my match that day, and I didn’t stop and regale him with any of my stories after that. I just waved as I rode by on my second-hand bike.

And then, one day, when I came home, we all sat down to eat dinner. All my siblings were there for once. I was thrilled I rarely had the opportuning to tell a story to both my parents and all of my siblings at once. I sat quietly for a few minutes. I was trying to decide what story I should tell everyone. We were all sitting quietly, waiting for our Irish Stew to cool down. My mother cooked it all day because she wanted it to be thoroughly cooked and hot when she served it. We could all tell it was scalding hot because the steam was rising up over our bowls in unison. So, as I sat there contemplating the tale I would tell, it came to me in a flash.

After everyone settled down and started eating dinner, I said, “guess what I saw today walking down Main Street. My oldest sister said, “ “oh no, here she goes again, with her stories. Does she really think any of us believe these stories. She has a wild imagination, that’s for sure. My father looked at me and said, “go ahead and tell the story. What or who did you see?”

I looked at my father and said, “well, I was walking past that vegetable store next to the bar across the street from the school parking lot. And I saw a woman who was wearing a long, red velvet coat. And a big hat on top of her head with a chicken sitting on it. And it was clucking away. And she had a basket over her arm, and it was full of chicken eggs.”

Everyone at the dinner table stared at me, and then suddenly, they all started laughing. I looked at my mother and father, and then I started crying really loud. “my brother said, well, that’s the biggest whopper she ever told. That even beats the story she told about the old man. She said that he had a bowtie around his forehead and wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks. And he got off the bus at main street and went into the bakery, and came out with a huge box of donuts.”

My father said, “OK, stop laughing. She has an active imagination and likes telling stories. She isn’t lying.”

My mother said, “ stop laughing and finish your dinner. She looked at me with a weird expression on her face. And that made me start crying even louder. Then I got up and ran out the run to the bathroom I didn’t come out until I didn’t hear any of them talking anymore, and it sounded like dinner was over.

But that incident didn’t deter me from telling my stories. I just decided that I would have to broaden my audience beyond people waiting at the bus stop and my family at dinner. So, I thought about it for a long, long time. And then it came to me. I would start visiting the old people’s homes and telling them stories. I was certain that they would love having a young visitor who spent time with them and told them some tall tales. So, the first thing the next day, I rode my bike down Route 73 and across the highway to visit the old people.

I parked my bike outside the front of the building and walked through the front door to a desk where a lady was sitting. She said, “ can I help you, young lady?” I looked at her, and then I looked all around, and I didn’t see any ladies, so I figured she must be talking to me. I had never been called a young lady before, and I was either called by my name or “hey, kid.”

“I would like to visit the old people every day and tell them stories. They’re very good stories. And I know they would love to hear them.”

She looked at me and the biggest smile I ever saw spread across her face. “When would you like to start?”

“Well, there’s no time like the present. That’s what my mother always says.” She laughed out loud after I said that. Just wait a few moments while I call one of the aides to come up front and show you around. And you can decide if you want to talk to one person at a time or everyone at the same time.”

“Well, I think I’ll tell one person at a time. And see how it goes over. And if they all like my stories, I’’ tell them all at once. What do you say?”

I say, ‘outstanding.” And then she called someone’s name over the loudspeaker. And I stood at the desk and looked around until a woman came over to me and said, “Hello, my name is Miss Hartman. I heard that you would like to tell our residents some stories. What is your name?” They are going to love that. Some of them hardly have any family or friends that come to visit them. And they rarely see young people.”

“ Oh, everyone calls me Sissy. Why don’t their families come to visit them?”

“Well, for the most part, they have outlived their mates and family members, or sometimes they live far away or don’t take the time to visit them. They get lonely. However, we have a lot of activities for them. They miss seeing people from the outside.”

“Outside.” Aren’t they allowed to go outside?”

“Oh, of course, they can go outside. I meant that they seldom come to visit them. So, it just so happens that most of the people are in the dining room eating lunch. And so, off we went to a big room with a lot of round tables spread out across the whole place. And there were four people at each table, and there was a lot of chatter from all the people talking. I noticed it was mostly old ladies and an old man here or there.

Then she said, “let’s go up to the front of the room, and I’ll make an announcement about you and how you like to tell stories to people. You can come up and stand next to me, and then I will introduce you to them. How’s that?” I was surprised that she wanted my opinion, “ I said, that’s great.” She smiled down at me. Let’s do it. So, I followed her up to the front of the room, and she called out,” Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement. Can you quiet down for just a moment, please?”

They all quieted down. You could have heard a pin drop. This young lady, whose name is Sissy, is going to start coming here and telling us some stories. She is a storyteller. And she said she could tell stories to everyone at once or come to your rooms and tell one person at a time. What do you think?”

And then, all of a sudden, everyone was clapping and stamping their feet, and someone yelled out, “tell a story now. Please.”

Miss Hartman looked at me with a big smile on her face, “Well, Sissy, it looks like you have a captive audience. Do you have a story you would like to tell right now?”

“Yes, I have a story about my neighbor, Mrs. Collins. She lives down the street from me, two doors down. She loves cats, and she has a long fenced-in area in her backyard that runs the length from front to back. And the cats have a door in the basement that they can go through to the cat run. She has over thirty cats. I like to visit them almost every day. They like to be scratched and talked to. I know all their names. And she has a big white dog with black spots, and his name is Rudy. He barks a lot.

And sometimes, one of her cats escapes out of the pen and gets in a big fight with the neighbor’s cats. They roll around and scream at one another so fast that you can’t even see them clearly. So, they all have scars on them from fighting with other cats, mostly Strottles, who loves to fight. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. And all the people started clapping and yelling, “tell another one.”

So, I said, “sure, well, let me think. Oh, I know I’ll tell you about what happened to me last Halloween.” And they all started clapping again. Well, first of all, my mother made me a costume. And it was a hot dog, with a roll with mustard on it. And I was in the Halloween parade. At first, everyone laughed at my costume, but I won the first prize because it was such an original costume. Since most of the other kids were dressed as ghosts or witches, a princess, or pirates. Then after the parade, we all started going around town with our pillowcases and knocking on everyone’s door and saying,” trick or treat.”

And I stayed out really late and ate so much candy I thought I might get sick. When my pillowcase was so full, I took it home and emptied it and then went out again on the other end of town and got it filled up again.’

Everyone started clapping and laughing. One old guy got up and said, “Hey, I used to do the same thing, and a lot of other people said the same thing. Al, the old ladies, and the men started talking to one another and telling them about their Halloween experiences, and everyone was laughing and smiling at each other.

Ms. Hart looked over at me at said, Sissy, I think that it would be just wonderful if you came all the time and talked to our residents. It looks like you helped bring back some of their good childhood memories and made them happy. Would you like to come and visit them?”

“Yes, I would love that. Especially visiting the old people that don’t get any visitors.”

Then Miss Hartman said, “may I have your attention, please? Would anyone like to have Sissy come back again and visit? And then everyone stood up and clapped their hands. And that was the beginning of me coming to visit the old people and realizing that they were just like me, only with wrinkles and gray hair. And making new friends every time I went to visit them. And it was one of the best experiences of my life.

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