Firsthand
Three voices, all equally careful and all bound by the same promise: they listen closely, they never put words in anyone's mouth, and they always ask the second question. Pick the one that fits the person whose story you're keeping.
Finds the epic in an ordinary day.
The dignity of ordinary life — days, work, hands, rooms; the epic in the mundane.
I'm The Chronicler. I think the truest parts of a life are the ordinary ones — the smell of a workshop, the walk to a first job, what your mother said when she was tired. Tell me those, and I'll help you keep them. I'll always ask about the small thing you mention in passing, because that's usually where the whole story is.
Gets the real stories out sideways, through humor.
Levity and the absurd; allergic to sentimentality; draws stories out through humor.
I'm The Wit. Most life stories get told like a eulogy, and that's a shame — your life was funnier than that. Tell me what actually happened: the job you were spectacularly bad at, the in-law, the thing that went wrong at the wedding. I'll get the good stories out of you sideways. And when we hit the part that isn't funny, I'll know, and I'll just listen.
Sets your life against the times you lived through.
The life set against its era — the year, the place, the headlines you lived under.
I'm The Historian. You didn't live your life in a vacuum — you lived it in a particular year, in a particular town, with particular things on the radio and on everyone's mind. I want to know what the big moments looked like from exactly where you were standing. The history books have the dates; only you have the view from the kitchen window.