Losing the opportunity to hear a loved one’s story can be a haunting regret…
but it doesn’t have to be.
My Story
A few years ago my father-in-law calls me over to his office for a meeting. By his “office” I mean a little alcove in the hallway that he managed to carve out for himself. I affectionally call their rambling ranch the United Nations of Dunwoody because our family represents at least five countries, seven languages and three religions. So it was there, sitting on one of those black puffy card table chairs that he kept near his desk for just these occasions that he shared his wish.
My father-in-law had recently spent a scary week in the hospital and now that he was at home recovering… still in pjs… he had a specific request. He asked me to tell his legacy story. He had these big plans to use his life lessons to build an archive of stories for the family. There was some real Godfather-ness in his plan, all on the up and up of course. But he had a vision and I was tasked with taking 88 years and turning it into 8 meaningful minutes that were meant to last beyond even my lifetime.
But I’m a Filmmaker
The filmmaker in me jumped at this chance. My father-in-law was my mentor and friend and I wanted his story to be the best story I had ever told. But I left his house white knuckled. Even as a filmmaker I was overwhelmed, a little scared and really had no idea where to start.
I could break down a physical script, but this wasn’t written anywhere. Should I write it first and then film it? Should I just record and figure it out later? What does legacy even mean?
Around this time I had received a book from a friend’s father called, “And the Moral of the Story Is“. It was a book full of his stories all told around the idea of lived values. It made me get really curious about my father in laws’ values and how they offered guidance but I was also interested in how they had evolved over the course of his lifetime.
After two months of conversations that for some reason it didn’t occur to me to record. And after two months of pushing film dates until he felt better. And after two months of not know where to start, but failing to realize I was already deep into the process of story finding. He passed away…
For now, this is where his story ends.
But it is where our story begins.
In all these conversations my father-in-law would often get excited and tell me, “you know this could be a good business for you“. At the time I was too busy to take it seriously. But now after all these years of studying story, of learning the dynamics of family communication and finally finding a bit of peace with my regret, I created Wild Spruce Media.
That day, my father-in-law didn’t just ask me to tell his story. He uncovered my deep desire not to let our knowledge and wisdom pass away. To not let our stories die with us.
You know I often talk about how when Rome fell We (the royal We) lost the recipe for concrete. And it would hundreds and hundreds of years before that technology would be rediscovered. If we are losing stories on a global level can you image the stories we are losing in our own families?
Look, I know how difficult it is to walk in the shoes of “should have”, “wished I”, “if only”… because I’ve walked down a lot of roads in them. And they have lead me right here to help you tell your legacy story.