Hi! Welcome to “What’s Your Story,” the every other Tuesday space where I invite YOU to participate in the writing. Thank you to everyone who participated in Your Hometown Story! Thirteen great stories are available to read there now. For each episode, I offer a writing prompt. In 200 words or less, YOU get to practice telling YOUR story.
I just realized that the word that I meant to say is SERENDIPITY!
Last Tuesday in “A Body of Work,” I shared an amazing story of serendipity. (See “Father Abraham”) In brief, on Feb. 12, I stumbled across an old recording of my song celebrating Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. I googled “Lincoln’s birthday” to find that Lincoln was born on… you guessed it… Feb 12. 😳 In 200 words or less (word counter), tell us your serendipity story.
Have you ever experienced a string of events that happen by chance in an uncanny way? Has the timing or the unfolding of reality ever caused you to shake your head in disbelief. Tell us your story. NOTE TO MOM: Please tell usthe story of meeting dad. It’s serendipity at it’s finest.
Tip of the Week: You don’t have to be a “writer” or a good speller to participate in this activity. Just speak your truth… typos and all. ❤️
Keep it 200 words or less. Be honest. Have fun. Leave your contribution in the comments. I’ll go first.
When it comes to musical instruments entering my life, I've had good luck. I might even say that some of these musical matches were made in heaven. Take the khaen for instance - that celestial mouth organ from Laos and NE Thailand. Of all people, somehow the khaen ended up in my hands.
It was 2004, Ohio's bicentennial year. I had just written a song that sings the 88 counties of Ohio in geographical order. I was notating the song and I needed help with some of the challenging rhythms. I called my musician friend David Badagnani and he invited me over to work on the song. At the time, David was house sitting for Dr. Terry Miller, an ethnomusicologist in Kent who lives half the year in Thailand. As we were working on the song, I noticed a very interesting looking bamboo musical instrument in the corner. I picked it up, covered a few holes, blew a few harmonica rhythms into it and my life was changed forever.
In 2007, I travelled with Dr. Miller to remote villages of NE Thailand to meet the makers of the melodious khaen. Today, I'm the most renowned khaen player in the world. (200 words exactly :)
Feb 22, 2022·edited Feb 22, 2022Liked by Hal Walker
I was 28 and had just left New York City. I had been living in a 3-story Brooklyn walk-up, above Saul and Lydia, an older couple who had lived there FOREVER. Abe was my housemate. He was a nice enough guy. I moved in because we both loved the artist Brian Hunt. One day he got pissed off because I left my dirty underwear in the bathroom, and he punched a hole in the wall. That’s when I left New York.
The next summer I traveled to Alaska alone. I got on the ferry in Seattle and rode it to Ketchikan. On the ferry I befriended a woman who was also traveling alone. She was living in Brooklyn. I said “oh I just moved away from Brooklyn.” She said “cool. Where’d you live?” I said “cobble hill.” She said “No kidding?! I live in cobble hill.” I said “Really? What street?” She said “Douglass St.” I said “No way. I lived on Douglass St. Which number?” She said “83.” And my jaw dropped to the floor. “Are you serious?!?!?! I lived at 83 Douglass St!!!” Then her jaw dropped too, and said “wait. What floor?” And I said “2nd floor.” “Above Saul and Lydia?” “Saul and Lydia!! Aren’t they the best?!” “Is there still the hole in the wall where my housemate Abe punched it?” “The hole in the wall! Yes! I put art over it!”
We became fast friends and spent the summer together gutting fish.
SERENDIPITY! For the last week and a half I've been referring to the Father Abraham story as being an amazing example of synchronicity. I wrote about it, I talked about it and I posted about it. I even looked the word up once and admittedly was a little confused by the definition, but I stuck with the word anyway. This morning, I sent an email out to 400 people asking them to write about their own stories of synchronicity.
But then a few minutes ago, a little light bulb went off in my head. "Serendipity." It was all serendipity, not synchronicity! So is the life of a content creator. Sometimes we get the word wrong.
I'd love to hear your stories of SERENDIPITY. It's "the ocurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way." (Also still accepting stories of Synchronicity. :)
Feb 23, 2022·edited Feb 23, 2022Liked by Hal Walker
My mom always wanted to be a CPA. In those days, professional women were either nurses or teachers so her parents gave her those two choices.
She chose teaching and wound up with a job on Eastern Long Island which was far from home and which made her miserable.
Her roommate, who was also a teacher, had a brother who would frequently visit his sister, and after a while became more interested in visiting his sister's roommate, and they eventually married and became my parents!
How I met my husband: he said "hello" and so did I right before I ducked into the AAA to buy a ticket home to CA (needed a cheap fare as I was a student and the fare was for a trip not far in the future). He got in his car and drove to another city nearby to perform some errands but couldn't get me out of his mind. He turned around after 10 or 15 minutes to see if he'd be lucky enough to still find me there. It was half an hour later and I was JUST coming out. (I was in there so long because the AAA said the cheapy airline I wanted to use to book the ticket had understaffed customer service and would keep them waiting on the phone for a half hour--I was willing to wait so they allowed me to use their phone and wait for the company to answer.) I was coming out and he was reaching for the door. I waited for him to go in but instead it soon became apparent that he was there just to talk to me! After several cute and clumsy attempt to introduce himself, he finally found the grace to tell me he would love to have dinner. The rest is history ❤️ (35 years and three kids later…)
A certain girl had a grandfather who was extremely religious. The granddaughter went to church every Sunday but she was not pious. Often the grandfather would ask her to play his favorite hymns on the piano (“Rock of Ages,’ “In the Garden,” and sometimes, “ Among My Souvenirs.”) while he closed his eyes and listened. Several times, the grandfather would tell the girl that he was praying for her…that she would meet and marry a minister of the gospel. (Fast forward….) On a cold evening on St. Patrick’s Day, the girl and her friends entered a Chicago bar to celebrate with a drink. Later a young man asked the girl if he could buy her a glass of green beer and join her in the booth. Walking home together, the young man amused her by dancing a Scottish Jig. (By which the girl became smittened). When they reached her apartment they made a date to attend the symphony the following week. As the young man exited, he told her he had a confession. "I am a Presbyterian minister…is that okay with you?”❤️
I was on a date at an Italian restaurant in Evanston IL. The Godfather was playing on a TV. I drove myself home, still thinking about the movie. I was distracted thinking and didn’t see the stoplight turn green so I didn’t drive forward. Suddenly a car drove past me going extremely fast. If I had driven when the light changed, he would have hit me broadside on my door and I might not have lived.
I was driving up Topanga Canyon Road from the ocean ( I lived in the LA area.). It was totally dark, no lights around. On my right was a fish restaurant that I had been to. They always had funny, clever quotes on their sign. I slowed down to see what they had posted. Suddenly a family (all wearing dark clothes…) ran across the road in front of my car. If it wasn’t for that sign, I would have killed them all.
Back in 2000 I was held at gunpoint in my home by a man who thought he was robbing the meth lab across the street. That’s a whole other story. Yes, it was terrifying. “Where are the drugs?? Where’s the money?!” he demanded, cornering me with a sawed-off shot gun. His face was fully exposed. He realized this mistake and lifted his t-shirt to cover the lower half of his face. Too late, I had seen, and would never forget, that face. I pleaded with him & convinced him he had the wrong house. He left me laying face down on my kitchen floor & just walked out the door. I was miraculously unharmed. The police couldn’t do much. Here’s where it gets weird. Eight years later, I’m in court for a traffic ticket. I’m sitting in the waiting area and notice a man nearby talking loudly on a cell phone. First, I hear the familiar voice. When he turns, I recognize that unmistakable face. I feel a sweaty surge of raw panic. I make my way outside and sit in my car with the air on to calm down. Within moments , he appears again, pacing back and forth, smoking and talking on his phone- RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CAR. I contemplate sliding the shift into drive, stomping the gas pedal and running him down right there in the parking lot. I felt certain this was happening for a reason. This was my chance, after all these years, to get him back, to have some kind of justice. He stops, looks toward me, and takes a long drag off the cigarette. I stare back, frozen. He tosses the cigarette, crushes it with his foot & walks back into the building, oblivious to my private drama. I felt huge relief. Right there, in that parking lot, I realized what I really wanted was to THANK him. Thank you for not harming me 8 years ago. You made a choice that day. Thank you for walking away.
Brighton , UK - Regency coastal town .. the San Fran of the UK .
I was living in a seafront apartment with great views . The relationship I was in was a bit like the sea , turbulent .
I was bored that evening I wanted some adventure . I opened the sash window and could hear distance pumping music on the beach . Ever the raver I left a note and took to the night sky . Wooooo a beach party . Somewhere in the midst of it all I met John, a Yorkshire man , living in LA, back to visit. We hit it off, a big connection.
No infidelity.
Sunrise, said boyfriend came looking for me . I scribbled a note and gave it to John with my e mail address .
We mailed each other on and off for 7 yrs . Him in LA , I here . He then moved back to the UK to Brighton . One wk end my plans had been cancelled and so I found myself saying hey John fancy a visit ..
This was the start of a 5 yr romance with an engagement too .
Sadly we broke it wasn't mean to last forever .. but I'll always have love in my heart for him .. for showing and sharing in magical times and creative adventures ..
I recently wrote an article about a serendipitous experience in my life that lead to the writing of my first book. Here's the first part of the story:
I’ve always said — I don’t know who I would be today had I not left the US in 1984, and lived in Taiwan and Mainland China for over 20 years!
The learning of a new language established a new worldview in my American mind. A worldview that supports me to see life from a different cultural-linguistic perspective. It not only led me to achieve a lifelong desire to learn another language and culture to the level of that of my American one, but I gained a universe-view! The Chinese, more aptly, refer to their “big view” as a universe-view—a millennial-year awareness reaching beyond the clouds.
In this, my first book, premier in The Heart Of China series, I share my experience with mindfulness mediation, a practice I learned from my teacher, 空海法师 the Venerable Kong Hai, a Buddhist monk in Taiwan.
But how I came to know him was ‘serendipitous.’ In Chinese, it would be called, “缘分 yuán fèn,” referring to a meeting that seems based in a universal planning—like the meeting of old friends. In English, the meaning of serendipitous falls in line with yuan fen, but applies differently. ...
I had a Norwegian pen pal in my early years, Olav Helge Angell Nordeng. Our correspondence was irregular, with long pauses, but one of us would finally start it up again. But he had moved several times after he graduated, and I didn’t know his current address. After we moved, he didn’t know my address either. I thought about this every so often, but I couldn’t think of an easy way to solve it, so I just dropped it. But oddly enough, after a while these thoughts came more often and more insistently. I became convinced that if I didn’t make contact soon, the chance would be gone forever. I finally wrote to his childhood address, which I had written so often that I knew it by heart. For a long time, nothing. Then a blue aerogram from Norway! Olav explained to me that his mother had died, and he had come back to his old home town (Gjøvik) to settle her estate. The people who lived in his childhood dwelling had passed the letter to him. It was fortunate that I had written when I did, because he had no reason to go back to Gjøvik again.
When it comes to musical instruments entering my life, I've had good luck. I might even say that some of these musical matches were made in heaven. Take the khaen for instance - that celestial mouth organ from Laos and NE Thailand. Of all people, somehow the khaen ended up in my hands.
It was 2004, Ohio's bicentennial year. I had just written a song that sings the 88 counties of Ohio in geographical order. I was notating the song and I needed help with some of the challenging rhythms. I called my musician friend David Badagnani and he invited me over to work on the song. At the time, David was house sitting for Dr. Terry Miller, an ethnomusicologist in Kent who lives half the year in Thailand. As we were working on the song, I noticed a very interesting looking bamboo musical instrument in the corner. I picked it up, covered a few holes, blew a few harmonica rhythms into it and my life was changed forever.
In 2007, I travelled with Dr. Miller to remote villages of NE Thailand to meet the makers of the melodious khaen. Today, I'm the most renowned khaen player in the world. (200 words exactly :)
I was 28 and had just left New York City. I had been living in a 3-story Brooklyn walk-up, above Saul and Lydia, an older couple who had lived there FOREVER. Abe was my housemate. He was a nice enough guy. I moved in because we both loved the artist Brian Hunt. One day he got pissed off because I left my dirty underwear in the bathroom, and he punched a hole in the wall. That’s when I left New York.
The next summer I traveled to Alaska alone. I got on the ferry in Seattle and rode it to Ketchikan. On the ferry I befriended a woman who was also traveling alone. She was living in Brooklyn. I said “oh I just moved away from Brooklyn.” She said “cool. Where’d you live?” I said “cobble hill.” She said “No kidding?! I live in cobble hill.” I said “Really? What street?” She said “Douglass St.” I said “No way. I lived on Douglass St. Which number?” She said “83.” And my jaw dropped to the floor. “Are you serious?!?!?! I lived at 83 Douglass St!!!” Then her jaw dropped too, and said “wait. What floor?” And I said “2nd floor.” “Above Saul and Lydia?” “Saul and Lydia!! Aren’t they the best?!” “Is there still the hole in the wall where my housemate Abe punched it?” “The hole in the wall! Yes! I put art over it!”
We became fast friends and spent the summer together gutting fish.
SERENDIPITY! For the last week and a half I've been referring to the Father Abraham story as being an amazing example of synchronicity. I wrote about it, I talked about it and I posted about it. I even looked the word up once and admittedly was a little confused by the definition, but I stuck with the word anyway. This morning, I sent an email out to 400 people asking them to write about their own stories of synchronicity.
But then a few minutes ago, a little light bulb went off in my head. "Serendipity." It was all serendipity, not synchronicity! So is the life of a content creator. Sometimes we get the word wrong.
I'd love to hear your stories of SERENDIPITY. It's "the ocurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way." (Also still accepting stories of Synchronicity. :)
My mom always wanted to be a CPA. In those days, professional women were either nurses or teachers so her parents gave her those two choices.
She chose teaching and wound up with a job on Eastern Long Island which was far from home and which made her miserable.
Her roommate, who was also a teacher, had a brother who would frequently visit his sister, and after a while became more interested in visiting his sister's roommate, and they eventually married and became my parents!
And that's how I got here.
How I met my husband: he said "hello" and so did I right before I ducked into the AAA to buy a ticket home to CA (needed a cheap fare as I was a student and the fare was for a trip not far in the future). He got in his car and drove to another city nearby to perform some errands but couldn't get me out of his mind. He turned around after 10 or 15 minutes to see if he'd be lucky enough to still find me there. It was half an hour later and I was JUST coming out. (I was in there so long because the AAA said the cheapy airline I wanted to use to book the ticket had understaffed customer service and would keep them waiting on the phone for a half hour--I was willing to wait so they allowed me to use their phone and wait for the company to answer.) I was coming out and he was reaching for the door. I waited for him to go in but instead it soon became apparent that he was there just to talk to me! After several cute and clumsy attempt to introduce himself, he finally found the grace to tell me he would love to have dinner. The rest is history ❤️ (35 years and three kids later…)
A certain girl had a grandfather who was extremely religious. The granddaughter went to church every Sunday but she was not pious. Often the grandfather would ask her to play his favorite hymns on the piano (“Rock of Ages,’ “In the Garden,” and sometimes, “ Among My Souvenirs.”) while he closed his eyes and listened. Several times, the grandfather would tell the girl that he was praying for her…that she would meet and marry a minister of the gospel. (Fast forward….) On a cold evening on St. Patrick’s Day, the girl and her friends entered a Chicago bar to celebrate with a drink. Later a young man asked the girl if he could buy her a glass of green beer and join her in the booth. Walking home together, the young man amused her by dancing a Scottish Jig. (By which the girl became smittened). When they reached her apartment they made a date to attend the symphony the following week. As the young man exited, he told her he had a confession. "I am a Presbyterian minister…is that okay with you?”❤️
I don’t know if these are good examples.
I was on a date at an Italian restaurant in Evanston IL. The Godfather was playing on a TV. I drove myself home, still thinking about the movie. I was distracted thinking and didn’t see the stoplight turn green so I didn’t drive forward. Suddenly a car drove past me going extremely fast. If I had driven when the light changed, he would have hit me broadside on my door and I might not have lived.
I was driving up Topanga Canyon Road from the ocean ( I lived in the LA area.). It was totally dark, no lights around. On my right was a fish restaurant that I had been to. They always had funny, clever quotes on their sign. I slowed down to see what they had posted. Suddenly a family (all wearing dark clothes…) ran across the road in front of my car. If it wasn’t for that sign, I would have killed them all.
Back in 2000 I was held at gunpoint in my home by a man who thought he was robbing the meth lab across the street. That’s a whole other story. Yes, it was terrifying. “Where are the drugs?? Where’s the money?!” he demanded, cornering me with a sawed-off shot gun. His face was fully exposed. He realized this mistake and lifted his t-shirt to cover the lower half of his face. Too late, I had seen, and would never forget, that face. I pleaded with him & convinced him he had the wrong house. He left me laying face down on my kitchen floor & just walked out the door. I was miraculously unharmed. The police couldn’t do much. Here’s where it gets weird. Eight years later, I’m in court for a traffic ticket. I’m sitting in the waiting area and notice a man nearby talking loudly on a cell phone. First, I hear the familiar voice. When he turns, I recognize that unmistakable face. I feel a sweaty surge of raw panic. I make my way outside and sit in my car with the air on to calm down. Within moments , he appears again, pacing back and forth, smoking and talking on his phone- RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CAR. I contemplate sliding the shift into drive, stomping the gas pedal and running him down right there in the parking lot. I felt certain this was happening for a reason. This was my chance, after all these years, to get him back, to have some kind of justice. He stops, looks toward me, and takes a long drag off the cigarette. I stare back, frozen. He tosses the cigarette, crushes it with his foot & walks back into the building, oblivious to my private drama. I felt huge relief. Right there, in that parking lot, I realized what I really wanted was to THANK him. Thank you for not harming me 8 years ago. You made a choice that day. Thank you for walking away.
Brighton , UK - Regency coastal town .. the San Fran of the UK .
I was living in a seafront apartment with great views . The relationship I was in was a bit like the sea , turbulent .
I was bored that evening I wanted some adventure . I opened the sash window and could hear distance pumping music on the beach . Ever the raver I left a note and took to the night sky . Wooooo a beach party . Somewhere in the midst of it all I met John, a Yorkshire man , living in LA, back to visit. We hit it off, a big connection.
No infidelity.
Sunrise, said boyfriend came looking for me . I scribbled a note and gave it to John with my e mail address .
We mailed each other on and off for 7 yrs . Him in LA , I here . He then moved back to the UK to Brighton . One wk end my plans had been cancelled and so I found myself saying hey John fancy a visit ..
This was the start of a 5 yr romance with an engagement too .
Sadly we broke it wasn't mean to last forever .. but I'll always have love in my heart for him .. for showing and sharing in magical times and creative adventures ..
We had a great ride .
Be blessed John XX 🙏
I recently wrote an article about a serendipitous experience in my life that lead to the writing of my first book. Here's the first part of the story:
I’ve always said — I don’t know who I would be today had I not left the US in 1984, and lived in Taiwan and Mainland China for over 20 years!
The learning of a new language established a new worldview in my American mind. A worldview that supports me to see life from a different cultural-linguistic perspective. It not only led me to achieve a lifelong desire to learn another language and culture to the level of that of my American one, but I gained a universe-view! The Chinese, more aptly, refer to their “big view” as a universe-view—a millennial-year awareness reaching beyond the clouds.
In this, my first book, premier in The Heart Of China series, I share my experience with mindfulness mediation, a practice I learned from my teacher, 空海法师 the Venerable Kong Hai, a Buddhist monk in Taiwan.
But how I came to know him was ‘serendipitous.’ In Chinese, it would be called, “缘分 yuán fèn,” referring to a meeting that seems based in a universal planning—like the meeting of old friends. In English, the meaning of serendipitous falls in line with yuan fen, but applies differently. ...
You can read the whole story here: https://bit.ly/3JpJkg1
I had a Norwegian pen pal in my early years, Olav Helge Angell Nordeng. Our correspondence was irregular, with long pauses, but one of us would finally start it up again. But he had moved several times after he graduated, and I didn’t know his current address. After we moved, he didn’t know my address either. I thought about this every so often, but I couldn’t think of an easy way to solve it, so I just dropped it. But oddly enough, after a while these thoughts came more often and more insistently. I became convinced that if I didn’t make contact soon, the chance would be gone forever. I finally wrote to his childhood address, which I had written so often that I knew it by heart. For a long time, nothing. Then a blue aerogram from Norway! Olav explained to me that his mother had died, and he had come back to his old home town (Gjøvik) to settle her estate. The people who lived in his childhood dwelling had passed the letter to him. It was fortunate that I had written when I did, because he had no reason to go back to Gjøvik again.
I cut it down but it's still over ! Forgive me pleaaase