Action in Uncertainty - Strength When You Need it Most
“Strength When You Need it Most” is part of a larger collection of stories produced to explore a powerful personality typing system called the Enneagram. David co-created this story with his teaching partner Meredith Markow who has been trained in the Enneagram through www.enneagraminstitute.com.
Though David does introduce the Enneagram and in particular the Type 8, he focuses on a storytelling life hack central to the How to Story process: seeing our audience as they are, rather than how you want them to be, or fear them to be. The storytelling tool in this episode is how to respond.
In this story, the central character uses the phrase “Don’t fear the fire and have your hammer ready”. What this means is that change is inevitable so don’t fear it. Fire brings change - that is what fire does. It changes things. So expect change and be ready. And being ready isn’t about being prepared - it’s about seeing things as they are in that moment and responding. THIS is a key ingredient to good storytelling.
The narrator of the story benefits from this advice as he tries to find a job in architecture during the height of the Great Depression. It is a story of resilience and true courage and it offers an effective strategy based on the gifts of the Enneagram Type 8.
[01:12] Introduction
[07:55] Join us for a free five day workshop
[09:34] Audio Story - Dry Gables, Strength When You Need it Most
Action in Uncertainty - Strength When you Need it Most
Full transcript
When I saw my Uncle Johann, I knew I needed to focus on him. I remember standing next to him as he inspected his forge. The roof was gone and many of his suppliers were ruined. And there was this hole in one of the walls. It was bad. I remember asking him something like, is it going to be okay? His response surprised me. He said, I don't concern myself with questions like that. Things change, that much I know. In my trade, fire brings the change. So I know not to fear the fire. JB you can't fear the fire. You can only have your hammer ready to strike. Strength is knowing when to strike, and now is the time.
Okay, this is from a story that my teaching partner Meredith and I wrote together. Meredith Markow is certified in golly, a whole bunch of stuff. Um, really cool stuff, including this powerful and relational personality typing system called the Enneagram. Some of you might be familiar with that. Years ago, the two of us created an imaginary town, a fictional town in a series of stories called Dry Gables. And it was about its nine founding members. And those members represented ways of exploring the Enneagram, gave listeners kind of a map and a bunch of examples of the kind of behavior that you might find from these nine Enneagram types. And we wrote a bunch of Dry Gable stories, you can listen to them over at Sparkle Stories. And then we delivered a series of tutorials on how these stories worked and how working with the Enneagram worked because it's, it's a genius modality.
Truly, Meredith really knows what she's talking about. And for this, the purposes of this podcast, it's really best that you go over to the Enneagram institute, www.enneagraminstitute.com and learn more about the Enneagram there. That's where she was trained. So we wrote a bunch of these kids stories featuring a character based on each type. And more recently we wrote nine stories specifically for you, for adults that did the same thing. And over time, we're going to share each of these stories here on this podcast and we'll unpack some of the wisdoms, uh, some of the wisdom and gifts of each of the types here. Um, this story for the type eight, uh, the type eight is sometimes called the Protector or the Challenger. This story is about the character, the type eight character Johann, and he is Dry Gables Town blacksmith. I love these characters. Meredith and I adore these characters so much.
And I want to say right now a little bit about the story and the storytelling tactic that we used in it before you listen. So first of all, the Enneagram, you will learn about the type eight in this story a little bit. And for those of you who deeply relate to the character Johann, you might wanna learn more about that type. You might find that you operate out of the type eight in the Enneagram. And again, I'm not gonna say too much about this because I'm not trained and the complexity of this is legitimate. So once again, best check that out on enneagraminstitute.com, where Meredith was trained, to find out more specifically about how the Enneagram works and, and more about the types. But what I have to say here is that this story illustrates an actual storytelling kind of life hack that has helped me over and over again in my storytelling and in my life.
And you've likely heard aspects of this before, but maybe not in this way. So Johann, the main character of this story has this phrase that he shares with our narrator, JB. And he says, “Don't fear the fire and have your hammer ready”. This is advice to his nephew. So what this means is that change is inevitable. Things are always changing, so don't fear it. Fire brings change. Don't fear the fire. It changes things. Fire changes things. So expect change and then be ready with your hammer. And being ready isn't about being prepared. It's about seeing things as they are in that moment and then responding appropriately. This truly is a key ingredient to good storytelling.
So if you wanna teach a lesson, if you wanna give advice, if you want to tell a story that brings some wisdom, I believe you need to first meet the listener. Before you say anything, meet them where they are and see what's actually happening. Rather than entering into it, hoping that the situation is as you want it to be. Storytellers, real storytellers know this because storytelling is actually very practical. It's actually very easy to lose a listener. So a good storyteller knows that they will lose the audience when they speak from a place of, I know better than you. It just doesn't work. But what does work from my experience is to adjust to the current moment, everything. Speak from that place, and then you pay attention to their reaction, and then you attune to what's happening and you keep doing this. This is the fire. This is the constant complexity of being in a room with people. Things change. Don't fear that. Don't avoid what is happening and focus on what you think should be happening or how you think people should behave. Meet them where they are. And then you can use your hammer. Then you can bring the support and wisdom of the story because the listener knows that you have seen them and they will listen to you. They'll know that you're speaking from a place of empathy and understanding rather than like a consultant that's just coming in with some canned information.
So, this is what Johann does, and then it's what JB does in the story. Instead of getting soaked in all the what ifs, what could happen or what should happen, which is something that we all tend to do, let's face it. Instead of getting overwhelmed with the fear of the worst possible outcomes, Johann sees the situation for what it is and then responds. It's actually the simpler thing to do when you think about it's, it's quite elegant. And it's good storytelling in my experience. It's also a really fun way to spend your day.
Hey the story is in just a few seconds but I wanted to let you know that due to the very big interest and response on social media, we now have a free 5 day workshop for you that will help you develop a connection with any audience by working with your voice - your vocality. It's all about the four directions and their associated hidden power. Fairies! Trolls! Dragons! Mermaids! Up, down, forward and back. This is at the foundation of the kind of storytelling that we do at How to Story.
So it's free. You can go at your own pace and it’s going to give you a basic understanding of what we consider storytelling and story listening. There are guided exercises that include body and energy awareness. As well as a basic understanding of the fairy world. It's super easy to follow and truly, it can be applied to every part of your life.
So you can go to our website howtostory.org to get the workshop guide and follow the short video tutorials. Then you’ll also be the first to hear about community events and upcoming classes for children and adults - those tend to sell out pretty quickly. And really there are so many resources for anyone looking for storytelling tips, looking for stories to listen to or read, and looking to practice with others. Alright here is the story.
JB Bauer, Dry Gables, Strength When You Need it Most
Greetings, friends, my name is John Bernard Bauer, and I have a story to tell you. It's a story about my life, it’s true, with all its ups and downs, moments of beauty and indeed tragedy. But this is ultimately a story about how my upbringing in Dry Gables, South Dakota made me the person that I am today.
Now, unless you are a collector of vintage coffee table books on traditional building techniques employed in modern architecture, the name John Bernard or JB Bauer is probably unfamiliar to you. It's true that I've written and provided photographs for a number of books about the master stone masons who built the cathedrals and most enduring bridges or Native American trusses, and how they influenced the modern skyscrapers of our biggest cities. Suffice it to say that such familiarity with my experience and passion is not at all necessary for the story I wish to tell you. No, this is more a story about, well, how moments in our past can help us with the trials and tribulations we currently face. How old stories, if you will, can help us shape our new ones.
The bulk of this story takes place during a time well known to most of you, what would eventually be called the Great Depression in America. And specifically for me, my professional changes during the years of 1929 and 1930. It was a pivotal time for me, one that had its fair share of existential fear, but also moments of revelation and resilience. And it's that latter part that I want to focus on before we get into the nitty gritty of what happened. That latter part, the revelation and resilience, well, I can trace that directly back to my hometown of Dry Gables and the most remarkable and uniquely gifted people who made me the man that I am.
So a quick word about Dry Gables, the name. Even though it has been misspelled for many years as D R Y, it's actually the German word for three. And gables are referring to points. So Dry Gables was called Three Points because it was located near the intersection of three rivers in South Dakota. Three families founded the town. There were the Bauers, a sturdy family of makers and builders. The Hertzs, a big hearted group of people wishing to lend a hand. And then the Denkin family, consisting of the detail-oriented folks who hold the bigger picture. Nine founders, each very different, as I said, and truly the nine people who have influenced me more than anyone else. I was born in Dry Gables and I grew up there and learned many, many stories about my dear friends and family. And I'll tell you what, those stories have been a lifeline, treasure chest, wisdom and support over the years. Yes, I consider myself a very lucky man.
So with that in mind, let's move to the events of 1929 in America. And for me, when I was a junior architect to one of the biggest architectural firms in the great city of Chicago, Illinois. Being a junior architect was filled with potential for me, even though I did not love the position. I did not have my own projects nor did I have the chance to make any significant impact on the existing projects that crossed my path. I was more of an assistant, if anything. But I was also regularly promised a glowing future if I just stuck with the work given to me. Now, more importantly, I was married by then to my dear Suzanne and our first child Eliza was only four months old. It was a very exciting time. It was full of promise, as I said, that is until it no longer was. Now, there were warning signs.
Looking back, of course, it was difficult to get a job in the late twenties, which was why I felt very lucky to have the junior architect position that I had. But many people were already struggling to find work before the stock market crashed in 1929. There were questionable investments made by the firm and by many of their clients. I heard people I trusted talk about how borrowing that much money wasn't very smart. And then I heard other people talk about how everyone was doing it. And if we wanted to keep up, well, we needed to do it too. Now, many of you know what happened. From 1925 to 1929, stock prices went up and up and up, a seeming boom. But it was all borrowed. People could only make money if the price went up, which it did until it didn't. On October 24th, 1929, commonly known as Black Thursday, stocks began to free fall.
There was widespread panic, and a week later, over $30 million had vanished from the stock market. Production stopped, and then construction stopped. And by 1930, almost a quarter of the Chicago labor market was without a job. Hmm, it was bad. But at this point, I still had a job. My duties expanded, and I was now doing things that interns used to do, but I did what my direct manager told me to do. Keep it all close to the nose, John. Don't get noticed. And you might just hold onto a position here. He told me to stay out of view. To do what needed to be done, but stay small, unnoticed, invisible.
I did my best, even though this was not at all who I was raised to be. My family and friends in Dry Gables would never want me to play it safe, to play it small, to try to be invisible. This went up against everything I stood for, but I was scared. I had a wife and I had a daughter that depended on me. We needed that paycheck. So I did keep it small. But it wasn't even a year before I lost my job too. It was late in the year and the temperature was about to drop. We barely had any savings and the city of Chicago was already overloaded with helping the thousands and thousands of unemployed citizens in need of food and in some cases shelter. I feared we would soon join them. I felt the panic. The panic took over.
And I'm not proud of how I handled the next few months. I focused on what could be all the ways that things could get worse. I looked at our dwindling resources and could only imagine the most dire result. I was not a source of strength and reassurance to my family. I did not calm them when they most needed calm from me. No, I didn't. I was fearful and full of anxiety. That is, until I remembered something my uncle Johann told me. Something he often told me, don't fear the fire and have your hammer ready.
My uncle Johann was the town's blacksmith, and he was so much more than that to the community. In many ways he was the driving force of change and stability or of protection or really anything where there was a driving force. He was a driving force. And he had these things he would say that either came from his youth in Germany or from his trade. Often his little sayings had something to do with making things or hitting things or melting things or bending something to his will. But it was this saying, don't fear the fire and have your hammer ready, that gave me the strength I needed most. I remember one instance in particular when I, oh, I must have been nine or ten years old and the town sustained a terrible storm. Incredible winds with sleet and could even be hail. I can't quite remember exactly, but I know there was a lot of damage to many of the buildings.
And what I can remember was that my father, Wilhelm, the town planner, was completely overwhelmed with all the damage that needed repairing. And I remember EB Hertz, the mayor going from person to person and trying to reassure them that he would lead us out of this challenge. But it was clear to me that he had no idea where to start. Now I remember, both Lisl Hertz, the town nurse and Seamus O'Connor, her husband and my teacher were both somehow blaming themselves for what had happened and were almost frozen with emotion. But when I saw my uncle Johann, I knew I needed to focus on him. I remember standing next to him as he inspected his forge. The roof was gone and many of his supplies were ruined. And there was this hole in one of the walls. It was bad. I remember asking him something like, is it going to be okay? And his response surprised me. He said, “I don't concern myself with questions like that. Things change that much I know. In my trade, fire brings the change. So I know not to fear the fire. JB, you can't fear the fire. You can only have your hammer ready to strike. Strength is knowing when to strike, and now is the time”.
Now, I did not understand him then, but I did understand him later. He was telling me not to concern myself with what could happen one way or another, not to get lost in all the what ifs. He was telling me not to fear what is inevitable, change. Instead, he wanted me to be ready for whatever came and to strike when the time was right. And that now was the time to strike. And that was what we did back then. When I was a kid, I could see that he didn't bother with worry or overwhelm. He got to work. And I helped him. In that strength, his strength, it helped me move into action. Then it helped all of Dry Gables move into action. And we repaired the town. Well, this was what I needed after I lost my job as junior architect. And when I didn't seem to have any prospects for employment.
I was surrounded by bad news. There was no work, the possibility of losing our home, of running out of food. I was like Lisl and Seamus long ago, frozen with self-judgment. How could I have let this happen? How could I let my family down like this? But remembering my uncle Johann kept me from sinking into overwhelm and self-pity. And instead, I grabbed my hammer. Change had come I told myself, so what was I going to do about it? Well, the first thing I did was something my school teacher, Seamus always recommended I do when I had a question with no answer, I went for a walk. I did my best to immerse myself and the landscape of row houses and street cars, taking in the images and sights and smells. And well, it worked. I lost myself in the moment. And then I saw some men with tools walking into an open field, and I saw a great pile of stone in the middle of that field.
They were building something, it was clear. They were all masons working with stone. And the moment I recognized what was happening, I felt the blood course through my veins. You see, I was also a mason. I knew stone. It was my early training in Dry Gables. My uncle and father both taught me the trade when I worked with masons from other towns until I was the best stone worker in Dry Gables. And I loved it. I was good at it. Since I left Dry Gables to go to the University, I hadn't had a chance to work with stone. And standing there, the edge of the open field, my hands were aching for it. They ached to touch the stone and spin it until the three points of the stone were found. And then the stone would be set in relation to the wall. It was a deeply satisfying experience, working with stone. And before I knew it, I joined the workers on site, without asking. I just, I just got to work. I wasn't worried about payment or getting a job. I just wanted to work. I wanted to do something. And I had my hammer, as my uncle would say, and I was striking.
I remember it was a lovely day. I remember feeling able, feeling strong. I felt full of life just working. I stayed several hours before I realized that such time passed and my wife would be worried. So I thanked the men for the opportunity. And one of them, the foreman, asked if I had time to help again tomorrow. He said he couldn't pay much, but he could pay some. Well without hesitation, I agreed. I went home and reported what happened. And my wife was rightly wary of me spending time working for low pay setting stone instead of trying to find a better paying job in my chosen field of architecture. And it was a good point, but the life I felt, the vitality and strength, I felt it was real. I knew it was the right move, even though searching for an architect's job was the sensible thing to do.
So we made a deal. I would set stone for a week and then we would reevaluate. And I did. And this week was glorious. I can't remember how much money I made. Not much I'm sure. But the work was beautiful. Hard work, tiring work. But the strength was there, the vitality was there. I was tired and yet filled with energy at the same time. Like it was moving through me, and I was making something, creating something. By week's end, the supervisors could see my skills and they, they promoted me. I still wasn't making much, but it was better than nothing. And I was happy. My wife could see that. And when we did the math, we realized the small paycheck would help us get by at least in the short term. Well, I worked there for three months until the rock work part of the project was complete, and the stone frame of the new Foster Park Recreation Center was in place.
After that, I was sent to oversee the stone work on a fountain project. And after that, I got a lead foreman position on a city project for the New Deal WPA or Works Progress Administration. It was a bridge, a very big bridge that would take Lakeshore Drive over the Chicago River. The bridge would likely take five to eight years to complete. And there was a fair amount of stonework involved. So I got the job, and at first I focused on the stonework. But it just so happened that the engineers had decided on building a bascule bridge or the kind that could be drawn up to let large ships pass by. Well, as luck would have it, our town's newspaper man, Max Denkin, had proposed building a bascule bridge over the Cheyenne River in South Dakota. And he knew everything there was to know about how to best engineer them.
That was Max. He never did anything lightly. If he was going to learn about something, he learned everything about it. And since I helped him two times a week at his press, I ended up learning about bascule bridges as well. I had my hammer, you see. And when the engineers gathered to discuss the plan, I chose to strike. I gave them my opinion on how to balance the gear system using a technique my father developed and the engineers listened. They brought me in. Again, no additional pay. I was still getting a foreman salary, but they could see that I had more to give. They could see my strength. They could see I had my hammer ready.
Well inspired again from my school teacher. Seamus. I took to photographing the projects I worked on initially, just because I thought they were beautiful. But then as a form of documentation. My first collection of photographs was of the State Street subway project in Chicago. It was also a public works project. And publishing my photographs became a part of the entire project. I was then sent to other projects to photograph and write about them. I was sent to San Antonio, Texas to cover the Riverwalk project, and then on to Charleston, South Carolina to document the Dock Street Theater and then the Hoover Dam in Nevada. I published a book for each one. And by 1945, I had found my new profession. Not as an architect as I thought, but as an author and photographer.
Now, I don't want to belittle the pain and suffering that people endured during the Great Depression. It was terrible. It was just terrible. But speaking from my own experience, I have to say that I'm grateful for the change that came to me and my life. Losing my job seemed at first like a harbinger of death. Indeed, inspired by my uncle's strength and resilience, it became an invitation to a new and more authentic life.
The How to Story theme music was produced by Javon Phelps. The story music is by Angus Sewell McCann. Today's story was edited by my co-teacher over at How to Story, Meredith Markow. And the How to Story Podcast is produced by me, David Sewell McCann and Marjorie Shik. We hope to hear from you and we'll catch you next week.
