Stories Are the New Handshake
They're how we say hello, prove we're harmless, and bond in an age of distance
Shaking hands with Captain Kirk
I couldn’t pinch myself because my fingers were currently busy shaking the hand of the one-and-only, flesh-and-blood, Captain Kirk. My only evidence that this was really happening came from the warmth and care of the commander’s grip.
At the age of 13 I had grown up watching the action adventures of Captain Kirk and his crew on the Star Trek Enterprise. I had also been working as a child actor for a professional dinner theater in downtown Milwaukee. I had recently completed the run of a previous show, and when the playhouse decided to hire William Shatner to direct and star in its next production, I got invited to audition for the only child’s role in the play.
Mr. Shatner himself flew to town for the casting, but as it turned out, I had grown too much in the elapsed months to suit the part. I should have been disappointed, but I didn’t register the misfortune because . . . well . . . I was shaking Captain Kirk’s hand.
The purpose of a handshake
Handshakes have been around a long time. Some say as far back as 5th century BC in Greece as a way of communicating the desire for peace and proving the absence of weapons.
A real-life handshake literally conveys the warmth of one person to another, puts us close enough to breathe each other’s air, experience the skin of each other’s labor, and to catch the subtle clues of another person’s essential disposition — which in Mr. Shatner’s case was charm.
You can’t shake hands with someone without feeling the profundity and the vulnerability we all have in common.
So shaking hands human-to-human with the captain as a starry-eyed kid felt like a pretty big deal.
But when was the last time you shook someone’s hand?
We now live in an age of remote collaboration and digitized trust. Handshakes have been replaced by vast distances, zoom introductions, and virus protocols. Now we need a new handshake; another way to bond over our co-existence and to experience the flesh-and-blood dignity of one another.
Shared personal stories, I suggest, are the new handshake; conveying the inimitable character of another person — like human touch — but without the need for physical proximity. We need that touch, just like we need to be exchanging our stories now more than ever.
If I were to admit that I wet the bed until age 10 because I was too scared to get up and walk down eight feet of dark hallway at night, you and I would both relax a little. Sharing something like that would eliminate the need for either of us to pretend to be something we’re not. And yes, I’m admitting it.
If I told you that I’m a socially anxious introvert — someone who is confident as a professional speaker onstage but who routinely ducks out of social gatherings to retreat alone — you’d empathize if you also feel awkward in crowds.
With authentic storytelling you too can set others at ease and be an invitation for them to be themselves.
The doctor who helped me to say good-bye
We adopted three ferrets almost ten years ago at the request of my son, whose delight and love for them is surely part of the reason they’ve surpassed their life expectancy.
I cared for the ferrets while he was recently away with my wife. Beforehand, we discussed the fact that one of them, Julio, had been chronically lethargic, seeming confused, and was likely near the end of his life. Sure enough, in the middle of their trip, I found Julio collapsed in pain on the floor of the cage.
Forty-eight hours of trying to find an available small animal specialist finally led me to a veterinary clinic with him wrapped in a towel.
Entering the clinic, I was met by an intern who led me to a private waiting room. After consulting with the doctor about Julio’s age and symptoms, it became clear that the most compassionate course of action was to put him down.
Julio had been basically unconscious for days. As they carried him away for euthanasia, I felt numb from the constant worry — ready for the stress to end. Instead of being informed that it was over, however, the doctor returned with Julio wrapped in a blanket. Apparently, low blood sugar had been part of his problem, among other complications.
“I gave him some glucagon,” she explained, “so he could be more present and alert with you before the final injection.”
She paused and looked at me with the utmost compassion.
“My cat got hit by a car when I was a kid. The worst part was taking her to the vet and not having the chance to fully feel those last moments of good-bye.”
She tenderly laid Julio in my lap and departed, but I could barely see him through the flood of tears that burst forth.
How did she know?
I had been holding it together as best I could, somehow assuming that there was no room for human emotion here in this place of business. And yet the doctor’s care and simple personal story gave me permission to allow my feelings to rise up and to say farewell.
Without that demonstration of humanness I would not have had the chance to stroke Julio’s sweet head one last time — to tell him how much he was loved and how much joy he had brought to our family.
Your stories matter more than you know
Your authentic personal stories matter more than you know. They will make someone laugh, cry, understand, forgive, return to love, or let go in a moment that matters.
Your life shared will help someone who is struggling, confused, or not feeling sure if they have permission to experience the full impact of their own situation or feelings.
Your stories will be the handshake you offer to someone who is meeting you for the first time — a signal that you come in peace, that you mean no harm, that you are human like them, and that you exist as an invitation to hear truth spoken by others.
And your stories will help you do your job, because the demand for being human at work is only going to grow.
It’s nice to meet you
As a speaker and author I tell a lot of stories, and usually from a distance. But humans transcend the need for shared space in the magic of shared story. Instead of shaking hands, we get to embrace in spirit, bonding in the grip of human experience, and meet, perhaps not eye-to-eye, but I-to-I, in an essential way.
Stories are the new way we say hello, prove that we’re harmless, and bond in an age of distance. Wherever in the world you may be, it’s my desire to meet in that place where human values, joys, sorrows, struggles, and dreams appear unique on the surface but find commonality in their depth.
With storytelling.
If you have a personal story of your own to share I’d love to hear it. Feel free to tell it or link to it in the comments.
You made me picture the day when my parents will lose our 16 year old dash hound. My brother moved out recently, which means this old dog is the last “child” living at home. The last sign of how everything used to be. It’s gonna be a devastating day.
Your article was a pleasure Rick, it took me on a journey. Consider my hand shaken.
Great post Rick. Think you may like this one from Seth Godin I just came across today - https://seths.blog/2006/04/ode_how_to_tell/