“Me” enough for my own story

The first storyteller who taught me the value of stories was my Taiwanese immigrant mother. Her lessons and advice always came couched in a long-winded story or parable or anecdote rather than as a simple, straightforward admonishment, delivered in an “are you listening?” tone that demanded her audience’s attention more forcefully than the most skilled orators. I’m telling you, Rome’s best senators had nothing on my mother. As an impatient teenager, I perfected the art of the eye-roll thanks to ...