If you remember nothing of what I said, I may as well have said nothing.

I’ve been a storyteller my whole life. Some of my earliest memories are of sharing tales—not as dry recountings of facts, but as a way to entertain, connect, and sometimes make sense of the chaos of life. Over the years, these stories have found their way into my talks, lessons, performances, and even the large-scale art my wife and I create with our team. They are shaped and refined through the reactions of the people listening, watching, or participating.

People often ask me if the stories I tell about my life are true. The best answer I can give is this: I tell them as I remember them. However, I know memory is a fluid thing, shaped as much by emotion and perspective as by the events themselves. And when a story is told repeatedly, it naturally evolves. I like to think of these changes, not as distortions, but as a form of “reality enhancement.” It’s about focusing on what makes the story resonate—whether that’s humor, surprise, or meaning.

As truthful as I aim to be, I make no claim that my stories are historical records. They’re meant to be enjoyed, laughed at, and—on rare occasions—learned from. The stories feel true in the ways that matter. Storytelling, at its core, isn’t about rigid facts; it’s about connection. It’s about finding the moments that spark a laugh, a gasp, or a new perspective. And if the details shift over time, it’s not to deceive but to hone the heart of the story.

I’ve come to see stories as shared experiences. If you recall a detail differently than I do, so much the better—it gives us a chance to explore those differences and connect on another level. For me, the magic lies in the conversation and the memories that storytelling evokes. As I reflect on my journey as a storyteller, I realize that storytelling has been a constant companion, shaping not just how I communicate, but how I see the world. It’s not just about the stories I tell; it’s about the ones I hear in return. 

So, when you read one of my stories, know that it isn’t meant to be taken as a literal account of history. It’s meant to entertain, to inspire, and every so often, to leave you with a thought or perspective that lingers a little longer. 

1 thought on “If you remember nothing of what I said, I may as well have said nothing.”

  1. As with all great storytellers, you recognize that memory may be faulty, and even if you remember everything from your own perspective, another person will have seen the same event differently. This is a wonderful point of view, one that respects both your actual experience and your creative sensibility.

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