The Stories We Remember All Our Lives

On Sunday, I attended Comic Con Holland. It had been a decade since I last went to a fan convention, due to severe illness and then severe anxiety. But there was a special person attending related to my personal stories and so I had a very special reason to have a stern talk with my health anxiety about it.

That special person was Richard Dean Anderson, known as MacGyver and Jack O’Neill from Stargate.

The very special reason to go was my dad.

Childhood Memories

Some of my earliest memories are of watching TV with my dad. My mind shows me flashes of R2, C3PO, Captain Picard and grunting teddybears wearing aprons (Ewoks!).

I was fascinated by what I saw and my imagination went into overdrive.

Another early memory is of my older sister running into the living room, grabbing the remote and putting the volume up higher and higher because MacGyver was coming on and its theme tune was her favourite.

Meanwhile my imagination continued to grow every time I saw Leia or Captain Janeway on the screen.

(Side note: I swear to this day that seeing so many incredible women do awesome things on TV while I was growing up had an amazing effect: I never once in my life felt that there were things I couldn’t do because I was a woman. Yay sci-fi!)

I was hooked on science fiction from then on, thanks to my dad.

So when I was 10 and a new sci-fi show was announced with Anderson as the lead, we had to watch it.

Every Wednesday at 5PM Stargate came on Dutch telly. The show was there during my formative years. It was there while I first got ill. It was there when my friends ghosted me after a decade and I only had fictional friends left.

Going Virtual

And it was still on the air when my mum suggested, after a couple years at uni where I still had trouble finding kindred spirits and always felt different, that I should try to find new friends online, forums having their golden age at that time.

Enter GateWorld, an online space where ‘Gaters’ would come together to chat about our favourite show. It became a place where I made friends for life.

Friendships that were deepened through attending fan conventions of the show together. It was where I first met ‘RDA’ as we affectionately call Anderson. I have a lovely ten-year-old picture to show for it!

But my dad, who had introduced me to this world, had never travelled with me. These conventions were abroad and I went with friends.

I always hoped I could take him one day. But illness got in the way, big time. Then anxiety, big time.

But then, I finally got slightly better. And better yet still.

A Memory For Life

Then last December, I happened to stumble across the announcement that Richard Dean Anderson was coming to the Netherlands, where I live. However, it was still on the other end of the country, and with my track record of migraines and anxiety I was not sure I’d be able to go.

And the last thing I wanted was to disappoint my dad last minute by not being able to go.

But I knew what it would mean to him if we went and he would get to meet his hero there, the one whose stories helped him bond further with his daughters.

So I knew I had to kick my anxiety to the kerb as much as I’d be able to and hope for my headaches to behave.

Did they? Sort of. I got a bad headache, yes. I did get anxiety as well. But I managed to control both, thankfully.

However, all that mattered to me that day was my dad’s happiness.

And boy was he!

After seeing actors from The Mandalorian and Indiana Jones being wonderful, meeting a beeping and rolling BB-8, and already feeling the joy that stories can bring so vividly myself, seeing my dad clap eyes on RDA was something else.

Dad simply stood and stared as the man himself took ages to chat with his fans while autographing pics and DVDs. And I mean ages! Later on stage – with my dad standing at the front, as I sat in the stands further back with my mum – Anderson apologised for having people wait so long in his line, but he wanted to make sure that these otherwise fleeting moments were instead full of attention and joy. I mean…!

And then my dad got his moment.

He and I got our picture taken with the myth, the man, the legend himself. And he was so lovely. And my dad so grateful, he wouldn’t let go of his hand while thanking him repeatedly for this moment in time, with his daughter and his hero.

The power of stories goes so much further and deeper than having a few words on the page. They comfort us, they teach us, heal us and entertain us.

They help us bond to other people who may become your closest friends.

Or they create an ever deeper bond in one that already exists.

What story will you remember all your life?

Which stories have meant so much to you that they (still) affect your daily life?

Hit the comment section below and tell me about them!

by Sandra Postma | Your Story Mentor