It was a warmer-than-usual March evening on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I'd just rushed from the subway, over two avenues, up 10 flights in perhaps the slowest elevator in all of Manhattan, and into a meeting with my Toastmasters group, West Side Talkers.
As usual, I'd arrived just as things were getting started, and as I quickly got myself seated and sorted, I looked over and saw Isaak Gelbinovich sitting at the top of the U-shaped table setup and smiled.
It's always a pleasure to hear Isaak, professional speaker, author, and Distinguished Toastmaster (top honors in the Toastmasters world) share his stories.
Stories of emigrating from Georgia (the country, not the state, he'd always clarify with a wink). Stories of learning to speak English, about his family, his adventures as a driving instructor, and his successes (and sometimes failures) in public speaking competitions. Stories that were somehow always as touching as they were humorous.1
As he'd done during many of our meetings, Isaak got up to give the public speaking tip of the night, which started with these three words:
Tell your story.
Unexpected Gifts
I later learned that Isaak wasn't supposed to give the public speaking tip that night. He and our founder, Lewis, used to take turns with that part of the agenda, and Isaak had just given the presentation tip at our February meeting. But Isaak felt compelled to speak on that March evening, so Lewis agreed to a last-minute agenda change.
And what a blessing, because what we didn't know that night was that it would be the last time Isaak would attend one of our meetings. The last time, he would impart his wisdom to our group. He sadly and unexpectedly passed away just a few weeks later.
They say no one truly dies until their name is said for the last time. So, to keep Isaak's spirit, memory, his light, alive, I share not just his name but the sage advice he shared with us that night.
Tell Your Story
This wasn't the first time I'd heard Isaak share this particular tip, but for some reason, his explanation and reasoning behind it really hit home that night. It stayed with me after the meeting, and it was the first thing that came to mind when I heard the sad news about his passing.
He was always encouraging others to share their stories. He loved hearing them as much as he loved sharing his own.
Why should we tell our stories? According to Isaak:
It's your story, so it's easier to tell.
Whether you avoid public speaking whenever possible, are brand new to it, or are at an expert level like Isaak, you've likely experienced the horror of getting up to speak and having all your words leave your brain. No matter how hard you prepare or how many hours you practice—making sure all the facts and figures are memorized—something happens when you feel and see all eyes on you. You go blank.
But if it's your story, you don't have to worry about memorizing anything. You just get to tell it. So, as Isaak would often remind us, if words fail you, then all you have to do is take a breath and simply remember.
Stories are what connect us.
Think about the last time someone shared a personal story with you. Even if that person's experience was completely unfamiliar to you, your mind likely started searching for similarities in your own. Times that you, too, felt the way the speaker did — excited, scared, joyous, frustrated, confused, etc.
I have no point of reference for what it must have felt like to emigrate to the United States in 1980, speaking no English. But when Isaak shared his stories about that time in his life, they brought up memories of times when I felt out of place or was starting something new.
Our experiences might be vastly different, but we are so similar at our core. Our stories bridge the (unnecessary) divide and create common bonds that help us understand one another (even when we don't speak the same language).
Your Story Matters
I'll add a third reason (somehow, I don't think Isaak will mind): you should share your story because you're the only one who can.
Only you can tell your story from your unique perspective. Only you can share the experience as you remember it—the sights, sounds, smells, feelings, and energy.
And these stories matter because you matter.
As my friend
shared in You are the Author of Your Own Adventure:No matter what your life looks like, you have stories that matter to the world.
You have valuable stories that matter to yourself, your community, and to the world beyond. Don't sit around and let other people tell the stories of who you are, what you stand for, and what your lived experiences have been.
Isaak knew the power of telling our stories. While his advice was focused on helping us improve our public speaking skills, it goes beyond any stage.
You matter. Your stories matter. Please tell them.
Isaak, it was a privilege and a gift to know you. Thank you for your advice, your encouragement, your humor, and your stories. I will do my best to honor your memory by continuing to share my own.
What's your story? What are the stories you want to tell? Don't worry; you don't have to get up in front of an audience to tell them.2 Share your stories with friends. Share them in an Instagram post. Share them in a journal or scrapbook. But please do share them.
And stay tuned for part two (coming in the next few days), where I'll share a tool and some prompts to help you unlock and share stories about what sparks you.
Isaak knew how to make a room laugh. Here’s just one example:
I’ve always been petrified of speaking in public; I still get unbelievable nerves whenever I’m “on stage,” but joining Toastmasters and West Side Talkers, in particular, has been such a gift. I’ve been introduced to many wonderful people, like Isaak, and have gotten much more comfortable sharing my own stories.
All the feels. I'm so glad you felt compelled to share this, and I love that you're keeping Isaak's stories alive. <3
What a beautiful tribute, Maghan. And I appreciate the encouragement to share my stories. It will help me in getting past my fears to open up a bit more and not be so reluctant to put my personal experiences out there into the world, as scary as that might be.