I’ve thought a lot about my role as a storyteller recently. I once wrote about how I discovered it could captivate an audience. My students let me practice on them. But the truth is, I’d been identified as a storyteller long before that. In middle school, a friend once compared me to Rose from The Golden Girls because of the way I talked. Instead of “Back in St. Olaf…” my stories usually began with something like “At basketball camp…” or “At cheerleading camp…” or “One summer

What I did have, though, was an unexpected survival strategy: storytelling.

I continue to revisit favorite songs, artists, and concerts—walking myself back through the chapters of my life where music was always playing in the background. Those reflections have sparked long, nostalgic conversations with friends as we compare the eras and experiences that soundtracked our lives.