I finished telling the story, just as I had told it for the past thirty years; but this time my cousin looked at me and said, “we were taking bets on whether you would tell that story. You always do, so you get the rubber duck.”

The rubber duck was the reference to the TV show,“You Bet Your Life“, a famous radio and TV show with Groucho Marx that ran from the late 1940’s to the early 1960’s. On the show was a rubber duck wearing glasses and a mustache just like Groucho’s. Before a contestant came onto the show, the audience would be told a “secret word,” which was a common, everyday word, such as car, clock or can opener. Groucho would then start interviewing the contestant and would often introduce a topic in which the word would be appropriate — and the audience would be rooting for the person to stumble across it. Then, if the contestant happened to say the secret word, the duck would fall from the ceiling with a prize attached to its dilapidated body (If you are interested in watching old episodes, Youtube has a number of the episodes for free!.

I’ve told my story the same way for many years, but in the last telling I was embarrassed by the response I received. Together, we used to joke about people who only had 10 stories, which you would hear again and again. Here I am… I had become that joke, and this made me explore what I was trying to communicate by the telling of the story.

My cousin and I are 5 months apart, and until we were three we lived in the same house, “playpen mates,” as my uncle tells the story.  Even after our parents moved to separate homes we spent a lot of time together. Not daily, but holidays, holiday preparation, birthdays, and, often, vacations. We were like brother and sister; the only children of our parents - until we were nine and my aunt had another child. We had many stories worth telling, but the story that I always happen to tell occurred many years later, when I began living with my cousin again, to complete my final year of high school.

Even though we had been far apart for many years - not only in miles, but also in connection - I felt strongly about my cousin.  I looked up to and admired him; he was smart, funny, athletic, and seemed to know exactly what he wanted and where he was going. I, on the other hand, was completely opposite. He was the Valedictorian - I barely made it through.  He was the star center on the basketball team - I sat on the bench.  As I tell the story, my claim to fame was actually just being his cousin, and although no one actually knew my name, they very much admired my connection to him - especially the swooning girls (did I mention he was good looking too?).

Instead of directly telling him how much it meant for me to be his cousin, how I admired him and loved being accepted by him and a part of his world, I instead chose to speak about his one flaw (which in fact was not his fault at all).  He was all of what I described and more, and did all of this….. but with the worst attire ever.  I don’t know why, but for some reason getting pants that were the proper length for my 6’3” cousin was *not* in my aunts’ radar.  When others would have crumbled at the mere idea, my cousin traveled the halls of our school with high water poly plaid pants, seemingly unaffected by this fashion faux pas. (In modern day, he is very stylish - now that he buys his own clothes).

…….. And here he goes again teaching me a life lesson - to be clear about what I am trying to say, and to expand my story repertoire.  He was and is awesome, and I wish that I could see him more often.

Understanding the needs of our guests at the Stanford Terrace Inn is based on our ability to listen to the story our guests are telling.  We pride ourselves, in this Palo Alto Hotel, to respond as best we can, to make our guests’ experience a positive one that they will remember.  Maybe someday, we can be part of your repertoire of stories.

Peace,
Barbara