An Interview with Your Family

Introduction: How I came to write this book Thanksgiving weekend with my family is usually a noisy affair. The kitchen is filled with the sounds of my mom and grandmother banging pots and pans as they prepare the turkey, stuffing, gravy, sweet potatoes and dozens of other dishes for the big dinner. From the living room comes the high-pitched scream of the referee’s whistle as my father and grandfather focus intensely on televised football games. In the background, my sister and I sit tapping away on computer keyboards or pecking out text messages on our phones.

However, the Thanksgiving of 2008, I broke this family tradition to request one-on-one time with my dad to interview him about his life. And so, one afternoon that weekend, my family left the house to let me focus on him.

As I set up the camera and adjusted the lighting in the room, I could tell my dad was nervous. He was also curious about what questions I would ask. He knew I had been interviewing my maternal grandparents, but he hadn’t read any of the questions I was asking them or heard any of the stories that I had been collecting. I think he also understood the significance of this interview, since his health was poor. He had been fighting cancer for over eight years. Recently, his prognosis had gotten much worse.

Now that we were finally alone together, I was frustrated with myself. Why had I waited until his health deteriorated to this point before I interviewed him? I had been home many times throughout his various treatments and had multiple opportunities to talk to him. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? His disease was progressing so rapidly, I felt guilty, anxious and rushed. What if I didn’t have enough time to ask all of my questions? It didn’t help that I had been living in denial, refusing to come to terms with the seriousness of his illness.

For the past decade, I had kept a journal specifically for recording the stories of my maternal grandparents. From these informal interviews had grown a list of questions that I wanted to ask other family members. It almost seemed inevitable that I would interview my family one day: I had been engaging publically with people since the age of 15, when I wrote, directed, and starred in a weekly news program while still in high school. In college I had a radio show, did a stint as a mobile wedding DJ and worked for a while as a stand-up comedian. I like to engage people. Not surprisingly, my adult career is based on interviewing clients to understand their business needs.

So it felt natural for me to interview my grandparents, and it was a process I enjoyed. However, with my father, I was raising the stakes. He would be the first family member I interviewed on camera. I was excited—the visual format seemed to promise so much more immediacy than notes jotted down in a journal. My interviewing technique was taking a leap forward; my father could tell his stories in his own way. He could be himself. I was excited to think that I could go back and listen to his voice, watch his gestures, look at his face whenever I wanted.

I was grateful that all of the questions were prepped and ready—I could tell the interview would be emotional. I took the questions out and sat facing my ailing father. I started by asking about his childhood, realizing about halfway through that this interview might be one of the last deep conversations we would have. It might even be the only way my future children would know who their grandfather was.

Fighting back tears, I refocused on my dad. He was talking about how as a child he would wake up early every Sunday morning before the rest of his family to make himself breakfast and walk to church. Religion wasn’t important to his parents and his sister, but it meant a lot to him. I also learned about how hard his parents were on his sister, and how badly he felt about that.

Two hours passed like two minutes. The rest of my family returned home just as my dad started to get tired. Our intimate conversation came to a close. We wrapped with a hug and a kiss. The time felt close and precious.

Everyone’s family could benefit from spending time together in active conversation. Why wait until a mother or a father, a sister, brother, aunt or uncle is in hospice care, like I did? Why regret what you didn’t say or didn’t ask? Although my father and I had loved each other—as my grandfather and I had, too—we had spent more time alone with each other hidden behind newspapers, TV shows, books, Sudoku games, Facebook, etc. than talking to each other about our lives. Unfortunately, that is something I can no longer change. The good news is that the stories he did share with me are mine forever. They belong to my whole family, even to the kids I plan to have. The big thing, as I learned, is not to wait. With this book, I have developed an easy step-by-step guide based on questions that I’ve asked my family—or intend to ask them. It is designed for everyone to use, even kids. The questions can be tailored to suit your particular needs and circumstances, whether they are more fun or more formal. And if your experience is anything like mine, you will be amazed by what you don’t know—and grateful that you have the chance to ask.

The questions are easy to follow and yield fascinating results. In fact, asking questions helps your family to reveal all the surprising, ordinary, beautiful, tragic, exciting, motivating, loving, and inspiring stories they have to share. It opens the door to worlds that you might have known nothing about. And the stories just keep coming.

Get ready to laugh, cry and be surprised. Enjoy the process of asking and enjoy the process of listening. These memories are a gift for you and for future generations to enjoy. Now you have the key to unlock these amazing treasures.