the finder of stories
There’s something meaningful about asking a question. It says you believe the voice speaking is worth listening to. It means you expect there’s something beautiful still waiting to be given.
I didn’t know what questions to ask when I was younger. I walked past people who had stories to tell—and I didn’t know how to sit with them long enough to ask.
But now, I do.
“I’m not the keeper of these stories. I’m the finder.”
I’m the one who scrolls through city directories, census records, birth certificates, newspaper clippings, and school yearbooks like I’m flipping through a family photo album.
What started as curiosity has become a calling. Every single person speaks. Living or dead. And the stories they carry? They are fabulous.
I call it time travel.
Whenever I dive into research. I don’t just look things up—I go there.
I’ve never seen a photo of Mrs. Elnora Loftin.
But I can see her in my spirit: A young woman, standing in the doorway of the newly-constructed “Midland Colored School” in 1931, holding back nerves and stepping forward in strength.
I recently created a social media post to share my book, Everyday Trina. That post is really about more than my book, and it is a quote I revisited today while composing this blog.
“Stop walking by that book. How many days have you stared at its cover? Open the book. Be captivated by its pages. What am I saying? Stop walking by people. They are much more than their cover. Open their book; strike up a conversation. Be mesmerized and blessed by their beautiful life.”
As I write each profile for my new book about the educators of Carver High School, I’m not just telling history. I’m opening people’s books.
So if you’re carrying a question in your heart—or a name you’ve never said out loud—don’t be afraid to look closer. To listen harder. To dig deeper.
Because the past isn’t finished. It’s waiting to be found.
And some of us were born to be finders.