TELL YOUR STORIES: Build it and they will come

WHAT ARE YOUR STORIES?  I was going to wait until the influx of your stories came spontaneously flooding in. Then, the plan was to set up a special link just for your tales. The idea that we are bigger and better when we come together is ancient. Building community. Not just Vivi and each reader. But the reader with the reader. A web of connection where you connect with others. We each have our stories.

So far they haven’t poured in. Many have privately shared with me and a few publicly alluded to their family’s experiences. 

I just have to wait. What if I invited you and no one came? No one wants to have a party where no one shows up. Embarrassing! 😱

Well, what the heck. That’s not my style. I’m usually the first one on the dance floor (not my preference, but it’s torture sitting to good music). So here goes. As Hillel says, “…if not now, when?”

This all means…I am inviting you to share. Your family stories, your stories of how you relate to your roots, your stories of how your family passes on culture. Any story.

I’ve created a tab for you.  TELL “YOUR STORIES“.   The length doesn’t matter. Short – one or two sentences, or longer stories – several paragraphs up to 600 words.  I’ll throw two questions out now to get the party started. Feel free to answer either one, or come up with something on your own.

If I receive just ONE story back? Then that one story is the one to tell. Many? Beautiful – we’ll go with it. Or if it’s just my stories, that suffices.


1. What is one thing you remember about a grandparent (or family member) that makes you smile or laugh?

2. What is one meaningful lesson or experience you remember about a grandparent (or any family friend or member)?

I’ll go first.

I remember my bubbe Yetta made amazing chicken fricassee. It was my favorite meal. I don’t know how she made it, but I think (and readers can correct me if I am wrong) it had chicken’s feet, chicken necks, meatballs, and pippicks. I never knew what the pippicks were. The sauce was thick and red. Kind of a cross between thick gravy and marinara sauce. We always dipped bread in the sauce to make sure we got it all. Delicious! I’d sit with the “tv dinner” tray she’d set up in her little Bronx apartment and be in heaven.

Somewhere, someplace, I have a quasi recipe. I will dig it up and share when I find it. But beware. It’s grandma’s recipe so it goes something like, “cut up lots of carrots, lots of onions, add ketchup”. No measurements. Just bubbe’s love. 

Do you have a memory or story you’d like to share? If so, would you please go to the “YOUR STORIES” link: at the top of the blog?  You can share your stories in the comments section there. I’d love to hear!

Tag you’re it. :). ©

Love, Vivi

😍 Do you know someone who might like to tell a story? I’d love it if you’d share this post with them!

Hillel says, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, who am I? If not now, when?” Ethics of the Fathers, 1:14 Quoted here from 

BLOG TITLE adapted from: If You Build It, He Will Come – Field of Dreams Movie CLIP (1989)

Photo by S O C I A L . C U T@socialcu

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