I Gave Rainn Wilson a Candle…Then We Hit Record

I gave Rainn Wilson a Root Candle, some Medina merch, then we hit record.

I was worried about this conversation, but not for the reasons you might think.

Before we get there, let me get this out of the way. This conversation drops in May on my 7 Minute Stories feed as part of The Storytelling University bonus series. If you want to catch it, head to 7minutestoriespod.com and follow the show so you get notified when it goes live.

Okay, so there were three reasons I was worried. First, I wasn’t sure if Rainn Wilson was vegan (I thought I had read this in an interview somewhere), and I had just packed a bag full of Malley’s chocolate. I’ve seen my friend and producer Ken Wendt do this whenever he sends gifts to clients outside of Ohio. So I copied him and then took it a step further, leaning into the Medina vibe.

And that’s the second reason I was nervous. I wasn’t sure if giving someone a candle before an interview was weird. And I had just stuffed this gift bag with Root Candles, a Medina Gazebo mug and a bunch of other Medina merch. What if he had a weird allergy? Giving gifts of any sort is so difficult.

And third, I felt terrible because my wife Cori is a huge fan, and she couldn’t be there. She was home sick with a terrible cold.

I didn’t really come to Rainn Wilson through “The Office.” Cori did. She loved it and told me all about the series. All about him. What I connected with was his more recent conversational work on his podcast “Soul Boom,” a show featuring conversations around spirituality, meaning and what it actually means to be human. That’s what pulled me in. That’s how this whole thing happened.

Our teams connected and found a window the day after he gave a talk at Bowling Green State University, my alma mater. So now I’m back on campus, unexpectedly, years later. We’re set up in a hotel I used to drive past as a student but had never stepped inside – one meeting room, one door, right next to the pool and sauna, with no working temperature control.

As my friend and producer Ken Wendt and I start setting up the mics, the room is already a sauna. Perfect. Then I get a text and see Rainn Wilson in the lobby with his team. I’m standing there, pointing at a map of Ohio like I’m pitching something. “See this? This is Medina.” I’m explaining how the county looks like a staircase compared to the rest.

We meet. As we walk down the hallway, I say, “Just a heads up, the room’s basically a sauna.” He smiles. We’re both a little shaky. Three coffees each will do that. Already something in common.

We sit down. Before we start, I slide him the bag of gifts – Malley’s chocolate, a Medina mug, a Root Candle. I tell him about Medina, the square, what it feels like to grow up here and live here. He says, “Next time I’m through, I’ll have to visit.” I’m hoping to take him up on that.

Then I get to it. “I hope you’re not vegan.” He smiles. “I’m not.” Relief. I tell him Cori is heartbroken she couldn’t be there. He says, “Tell her I’ll see her around the bend.”

We do the conversation. And somewhere along the way, none of the other stuff matters anymore. Not the room. Not the heat. We both seemed hyper-focused and present – the coffee helped. Then we had an awesome conversation about the art of storytelling.

It flew by, we said our goodbyes. Rainn was off to Notre Dame for another event and I had to eat because I was starving. Afterward, Ken and I packed up and headed to Campus Pollyeyes, the place with the best cheese and chicken breadsticks in the world.

We only had a few minutes to eat because Ken had to jump on a call, so we took it to go. So there I am, sitting in my car in a college town restaurant, eating breadsticks while Ken’s on Zoom in the parking lot. Back at my alma mater – a full-circle kind of day.

I walked in worried about chocolate, candles and getting everything right. And walked out grateful for the conversation, the art of storytelling, my friends and my hometown I can’t stop talking about.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

The Taco Bell envelope that showed up this week

This past week, someone mailed me an envelope full of Taco Bell hot sauce packets…

By the time it reached my house, they had exploded. Soaked. Sticky. A complete mess.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t malicious. We could make out just enough of the note before the rest was covered in sauce. “Thank you for the stories.” It was a nice gesture. No harm, no foul.

But I have to ask. Was it you, dear reader? Nonetheless, I wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t the first time. And there’s a reason for that. We’ll get to that in less than a minute.

Thinking back, I believe there was only one Taco Bell in Medina when I was growing up – right off Route 42, near Drug Mart. If I remember correctly, it briefly became a Blimpie before that experiment quietly ended, and Taco Bell eventually settled into its current spot down the road (please write in if I have this one wrong). Nonetheless, today we have a few of them around town.

But back then, for a kid growing up in Medina in the ’90s, it wasn’t just a place. It was a destination. It wasn’t about the chain brand. It was about what that place held – late nights, cheap food, small-town life, conversations with friends, the quiet foundation where nostalgic memories form without you realizing it.

For me, it started even younger. I remember I was 10 years old, playing city league soccer, when my grandfather made me a deal. One taco for every goal you score. So I went out and scored as many as I could – one Saturday morning, 13 goals. Because of the tacos. But really, because it meant extra time with him.

Years later, I told a story titled “Taco Bell: An American Portrait” on my podcast, 7 Minute Stories. It wasn’t about the brand. It was about what that place held – late nights, cheap food, small-town life, the quiet foundation where memories form without you realizing it.

After that episode, something unexpected started happening. People began sending me things. Photos. Messages. Notes from drive-thrus at 2 a.m. And sometimes, envelopes filled with hot sauce packets.

One message stuck with me. Someone I had never met sent a photo of a Taco Bell order in the passenger seat of their car. Next to it was another order, untouched, sitting in an empty seat – a seat where their friend used to sit before an untimely passing. They had gone through the drive-thru, ordered their friend’s favorite meal and placed it there out of habit.

And I’ll be honest, despite the magic of that moment, I still find myself asking the same questions. Am I doing enough? How do I reach more people with my stories? What does success even look like?

I used to think it was recognition – awards, numbers. Now I think it may be something else.

It’s an envelope that shows up at your door, covered in exploded hot sauce, sent by someone you’ve never met, trying to say thank you. Because something you made reminded them of something they almost forgot.

And in that moment, you realize the story was never really yours. It just started with you. But it ended with them.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

The Woman in the Back Pew | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

The Woman in the Back Pew

I used to be afraid of her.

Not in a rational way – in the way a kid is afraid of something they don’t understand.
-
Like so many stories growing up, this one started in Medina and inside the church with the red doors.

Most of you know it. Maybe you’re a member. Maybe you just drive by or know someone who attends: St. Paul’s Episcopal Church.

It’s where I was baptized, where I went to church until I was a teenager. I think my parents chose it because it felt like a compromise between Catholic and Methodist.

Either way, it was formative in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time.
-
And this story happened behind those red doors.

Every Sunday, we’d walk into church late – my brother and I dragging our feet, my mom trying her best to hold it all together. We’d slip into the back, doing that quiet walk to our pew, trying not to draw attention.
And every time, we’d pass her. She sat in the same spot, back corner, always there.

Older than old – the kind of old where people stop counting.

As I walked by, she would reach out, her hand trembling, motioning for me to come closer.

It scared me, so I never did.

I kept my head down and moved past her as fast as I could.

-
At the time, my parents had just divorced. I was angry in ways I didn’t know how to name yet. Everything felt like something being done to me.

Including this.

So I avoided her.

Until one day, I mentioned it to my mom on the drive home.

She said, “Did you ever think maybe she just wants to say hi?”

I hadn’t. Not once.

The next Sunday, we came in late again – same walk, same corner.

She reached out, and this time, I did too.

Her hand was soft and unsteady in mine. She pulled me in just a little and said, “God bless you. Every Sunday I see you, you remind me of my son.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just nodded.

Then she added, “He passed away very young.”

For a moment, as I looked at her, I could almost see it – not just who she was, but who she had been, and who she was still holding onto.

After that, I stopped every Sunday.

A handshake. A hello. Nothing big, but it became something I looked forward to.

And then one Sunday, I came back. She wasn’t there.

I turned around during the service. An empty pew.

I saw her name in the bulletin.

She had passed.

On the drive home, my mom said, “It’s too bad about our friend, huh?”

I said, “Yeah.”

And then, after a second, I added, “But I think she’s OK.”

My mom asked why.

I said, “I think she went to go visit her son.”

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

The meteor over Medina | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

Have you ever had a meteor explode in the sky over the city, even the home, where you live?


Just weeks ago, if I asked you that, the answer would have been different. But for so many of us here in Medina, the answer now is yes.


Before I even get into what happened, I have to admit something. I had a strange, and honestly absurd, thought. Did I somehow bring this into existence?


Because as many of you read a few weeks ago, I shared a story about another meteor encounter I had almost exactly a year ago. At the time, that one felt close. This one was closer.


And I am sure I was not the only one looking out into the backyard, thinking about grabbing a metal detector and seeing if I could find a piece of space.


Like so many of you, around 9 a.m. on March 17, I was going about a completely ordinary morning.


I was standing in my kitchen thinking about what story I wanted to tell this week and how much hazelnut creamer I wanted in my espresso.


Then came the sonic boom (cue Guile from Street Fighter II, if you know, you know).


The windows rattled. Phones lit up. Messages started coming in. Did you hear that? Did you see it?

For a moment, I thought a plane was going down overhead.


What actually happened...

A meteor entered Earth’s atmosphere over northern Ohio, moving roughly 45,000 miles per hour. It was about 6 feet wide and weighed around 7 tons. It broke apart high above us, releasing energy equivalent to about 250 tons of TNT.

People heard it across multiple states.


Later, I looked at a projected map of where fragments might have landed. It covered Medina County. Not too far from my backyard.


And through all of this, I kept coming back to something that did not quite sit right.


We have watches that monitor our hearts in real time. Bank alerts that trigger in milliseconds. Satellites mapping galaxies. Phones that recognize our faces. We can see black holes, track oxygen levels and get notified when our food is on the way.

But a meteor moving faster than the speed of sound approached our planet, entered our atmosphere, and we got nothing? No alert? No warning?

Just a boom. Luckily, one that stayed in the sky above.


It made me realize how easily I confuse awareness with control.


Because systems work. Technology works. Most days, things unfold the way I expect them to. And over time, that begins to feel like control.


But it is not.


It never was.


We learned about this in grade school, right? One day, you are a dinosaur walking the earth like you own it. The next day, you're gone.


That is usually where the thought stops. The fragility of it all. How quickly things can fall apart.


But standing there that morning, with the echo of that moment still lingering, I found myself thinking about the fire in the sky a little differently.


Because if something that rare and unexpected can happen out of nowhere, then maybe that truth is not limited to the things that go wrong.


Maybe it also means the improbable can happen for good. That it already has. And that in all the chaos and unknowns, the story may not end the way so many of us fear.


It is strange to think that a fire in the sky, something so sudden and so powerful, left me something behind that was a little quieter.


A pause.


And, unexpectedly, a little bit of hope.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

I tried to prove my pediatrician wrong (and accidentally learned something else) | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

When I think about being afraid as a kid, my mind goes right to the back lot of Medina Hospital…

Not the emergency room side. The quieter part of the complex where a lot of the offices were. This was before the Cleveland Clinic name went up on the building. Back then, my mom would drive down Route 18 from the Medina Square and suddenly turn into that winding driveway toward the back. I knew exactly what was happening. And I wanted nothing to do with it.

Somewhere through those doors and up several flights of stairs was my pediatrician. And that meant a shot, or that weird strep throat stick that would choke me, or some medicine that tasted like my grandmother’s perfume. (That’s a different story.)

Without saying his name, I’ll just say this: my pediatrician was incredible.

And if he’s still around today, there’s a good chance I owe him an apology.

Because when I was a teenager, I once told him he didn’t know anything.

The argument started with a question that had been living in my head for months.

Am I going to get any taller?

I was heading into 10th grade. Five feet tall. Ninety pounds. A little crustache trying to appear on my face. And I’m sitting in a waiting room full of toddlers playing with those bead roller-coaster toys on the wall when he calls me back

I climbed onto that crinkly paper exam table and asked the question straight out.

“Am I going to get any taller, Doc?” I asked.

He studied my chart for a moment and then said very calmly, “Based on your growth pattern, you’re probably topped out around 5 feet.”

Five feet?

In my teenage brain, that number started echoing around the room.

How would I ever get the other guys to respect me? How would I ever fit in? How would any girl ever like me?

Because in my warped mind, if I didn’t get taller, I wouldn’t matter.

So I slid off the exam table, pointed my finger at him and said, “You don’t know anything. And I’m gonna prove it!”

Then I walked out of the room like the case had just been settled.

The only problem was I had absolutely no idea how I was going to prove it.

Eventually I asked a kid on the wrestling team. He told me his older brother used to be short too, and then he shared the secret.

Eight chocolate milkshakes a day. All summer.

I convinced my mom to keep the freezer stocked with vanilla ice cream, whole milk and Hershey’s syrup. And every single day that summer I stood in the kitchen mixing giant milkshakes with a big silver spoon.

Eight of them.

Every day.

And somehow, I grew 7 inches.

For a while I was convinced I had cracked the code.

Chocolate milkshakes equal growth.

But here’s the part that took me years to understand.

Even after I got taller, I didn’t suddenly feel different. I had convinced myself that being taller would fill some kind of void. That once I grew, something inside would finally settle.

But it didn’t work like that.

I was just a little taller with the same teenage angst inside.

Eventually I learned that something deeper has to fill that space.

Sometimes I still think about that doctor. Mostly because I’m a little embarrassed about how I talked to him that day.

But the older I get, the more I realize something else too.

Even doctors. Even the learned folk we look to for answers.

They may be onto something, but none of us actually hold ultimate knowledge.

The best any of us can do, it seems, is keep trying to lean toward the light of truth, even as we fumble around searching for it.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

Blue streak at Letha House | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

Blue streak at Letha House

Two questions…

Do you believe in the possibility of extraterrestrial life?

Have you ever been to the Letha House?

Letha House Park, out on Richman Road in Chatham Township, has a permanent observatory run by the Cuyahoga Astronomical Association in partnership with the Medina County Park District. From the outside, it looks like an ordinary farm building. Nothing flashy. But on public nights, the roof rolls back and the whole thing opens to the sky.

Families gather. Strangers stand shoulder to shoulder in the dark. Everyone looking up at the stars.

Which brings me to a night, a couple years ago, when my wife Cori and I drove out there to see some Aurora Borealis action.

Weatherman Mark Johnson had said something about it, and my wife cannot get enough of Mark Johnson’s live weather updates when the weather gets weird. And you know the strange celebrity and power weatherpeople hold over us Northeast Ohio folk.

Anyway, we pulled into the parking lot. One person there with a telescope. Otherwise, nobody.

We got out of the car.

Next thing we know, we look up.

“What the heck was that?”

A massive blue light streaked over our heads. It felt close – three houses above us close. It sounded like an airplane descending.

The random telescope guy in the van? The only other person at the park? He packed up and left. Missed everything.

And then, my ’90s brain kicked in.

“The X-Files.” Roswell. Area 51. Art Bell at 1 a.m.

We ruled out fireworks. So what was left? UFO? UAP? Can someone explain the difference?

You know, Earth is a pale blue dot. Thank God for the great Carl Sagan. But it’s a blue dot in a universe with billions of stars.

Statistically, something else could exist.

But contact? That’s a different equation, isn’t it?

On the drive home, Cori and I barely spoke.

Before bed, she showed me an article.

What we saw? A meteor. Relief! Likely part of something called the Draconid shower. Hundreds falling that week.

That made sense. But the relief quickly faded for me. I couldn’t help but wonder – just because it wasn’t “them” this time, does that mean it’s not “them” any time?

Reverend Joss, played by Matthew McConaughey in the film Contact, said it best. Science and faith. Our goal is the same – the pursuit of truth.

But as I closed my eyes that night and tried to fall asleep, I heard “The X-Files” theme in my head and wondered:

If you were an alien, wouldn’t you just disguise your ship as a meteor if you were going to pay us a secret visit?

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

The Bar Soap Ritual | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

The Bar Soap Ritual

I have a strange ritual...

And I am almost embarrassed to tell you about it.

It involves bar soap.
Not body wash.
Bar soap.

But stay with me, because this starts as a goofy confession and ends as something I think we all do, whether we admit it or not.

I love soap in a way that feels excessive.

I love the idea that the world is chaotic and dirty and unpredictable, but we have this small daily miracle where we get to wash it off and start over.

Like a reset button.

Like a tiny sanitary baptism without the ceremony.

Somewhere along the way, my wife Cori started buying me these “man soaps.”

Pine.
Bourbon barrel.
Cracked ice.
Forest after rain.

I love the scents.

And that is when the ritual got serious.

I assigned every season a soap.

Winter.
Spring.
Summer.
Fall.

I refuse to use the wrong season’s scent. I will not do it.

And when the bar gets down to a tiny sliver, about the size of my pinky, I know the moment has arrived.

The ritual begins.

As the seasons change, I take that last little piece of soap and stand over the sink like I am holding something meaningful.

Then I drop it down the drain and run hot water until it melts away.

Goodbye, soap.

Then I open the new bar, slowly, like unboxing something sacred.

I am not exaggerating when I say it sometimes feels like monks changing a relic in a monastery somewhere.

Then I lift the new bar of soap up like it is holy.

The sun coming through the bathroom window.

Light hitting the soap like it is a stained glass moment.

A new scent.
A new chapter.

Now, does anyone do this?

No.

Yes, it is ridiculous.

But is it not human too?

Is it not just ritual?

Rituals keep us grounded. They help us remember who we are when everything keeps changing.

So even if you have your own weird little ritual, you are not weird.

You are human.

And next time you see a bar of soap in a store, remember me and this little story you read.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

A Lesson from the Gumball Philosopher | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

A lesson from the gumball philosopher

If I had to rank the best garage sales in America on a scale from one to 10, Medina, Ohio would be an 11…

Or maybe that’s just how memory works.

I grew up chasing those neon poster-board arrows stapled to telephone poles. Saturday mornings meant piling into our Chevy Celebrity station wagon with my mom and my brother, windows cracked, radio low, scanning front lawns like explorers hunting for buried treasure.

Medina had a rhythm on those weekends. Folding tables. Cardboard boxes. Men sitting on lawn chairs guarding power tools. Women with coffee mugs telling you the backstory of every ceramic angel.

And the toys.

One year I found Snake Mountain, Skeletor’s purple fortress from He-Man, sitting between a box of VHS tapes and a bunch of crockpots. I already had Castle Grayskull, handed down from my cousin like a sacred relic. Snake Mountain completed the universe. I paid in nickels and quarters. It felt like I had robbed the Louvre.

But now I’m the adult with the garage. The homeowner. The accumulator.

And I don’t feel the same about garage sales.

Are there things in your Medina house that arrive without announcing themselves? Or maybe, for many of us, things that have been there for a long time that we haven’t even noticed?

How is that even possible?

Nonetheless, these “things” sit in corners, garages and basements long enough that you stop seeing them. They become part of the architecture of your life. Until one day, maybe it’s the light, maybe it’s the coffee, you notice them again and think, What the hell is that, and why is it here?

For me, it was a broken gumball machine in the garage.

My wife loves old things. Fixing them. Repurposing them. Giving them second lives. This gumball machine had been there almost a year. It did not work. It took up space. I could not even park the car. So I grabbed it and put it by the trash.

She stopped me.

She said she felt bad throwing it away. Said there was a story there – who built it, who used it, where it came from. I said I just wanted my garage back. We compromised. She put it on Facebook Marketplace for free for 24 hours.

That was the deal.

Ten minutes later, someone said he would be there in 15.

A rickety station wagon pulled into the driveway. The gentleman and I lifted the gumball machine together. We talked dimensions. Closed the trunk. Shook hands. And then he did not leave.

It seemed like he had something important he wanted to tell me.

So I asked if he was going to flip it.

He said no. He had a philosophy.

For 10 years, he told me, he lived boxed in. A house. A car. A job making boxes in a factory. Working just to keep the box he lived in. So he did the opposite. This year he bought a small trailer. The only box he owns.

He drives around, picks up people’s trash, turns it into art and gives it away.

“You don’t charge people?” I asked.

“I believe our world needs less debt and more gifts,” he said.

He told me living this way had made this year the best year of his life.

Then he drove off slowly, the gumball machine rattling in the back, waving as the sun went down.

I stood there realizing I thought I was throwing away trash.

What I did not realize was that he was the gift.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Death is strange.

It is also completely ordinary.

When actors die, it feels personal. They lived in our living rooms. They marked seasons of our lives. When they go, a version of us goes with them. But unless we truly knew them, that grief is still the easier kind. It trends. It gathers headlines. It moves on.

The other kind does not trend…

I am writing this in the quiet space between Ash Wednesday and a funeral. In the Christian tradition, ashes are pressed on your forehead and you hear the words: Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return. It is not meant to depress you. It is meant to wake you up.

My uncle was a Cleveland firefighter. The kind of man who ran toward danger for a living. Years earlier, his son, my cousin, also a Cleveland firefighter and one of the best people I know, died in the line of duty.

Their stories are not mine to tell. Even more, their memories deserve more than a mention in a short story or column. But the short of it is, I loved them and I admired them both.

At the funeral home, someone tapped my shoulder and asked if I would serve as a pallbearer.

Twenty-five years ago, I was a teenager sweeping floors on construction sites for my uncle. Learning what it meant to build something with your hands. This strong, charismatic man teaching me how to work.

Now I was carrying him?

As I felt the weight of the casket in my hands, a question I wrote down at twelve years old came back to me. I had asked a teacher, If the brain stops, does everything stop? Or are we more like radios? If the radio breaks, does the music still exist somewhere else?

She told me she could not answer that. One day, she said, I would find out.

Standing in the cemetery while the bagpipes played in the background to honor my uncle, I still did not “know.”

But I felt closer to that answer, to that truth, and to my faith than I ever have in my life.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

Two People, Not Mumford and Sons | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

Two People, Not Mumford and Sons

It was almost 8 in the evening, and I had just traveled from Medina, Ohio, to Portland, Maine. I was backstage in a small theater, pacing. The kind of pacing that tells you you’ve rehearsed enough and now your brain has decided to panic anyway.

Have you ever driven anywhere in Maine from Medina? It looks like a much shorter distance on a map. I hate to fly, so I drove. It took me nearly 16 hours, but I finally arrived the day of the show.

That night, I was supposed to perform an unlikely monologue I’d written, a story that somehow caught on and turned into a national tour. There had been press, local newspaper coverage, radio interviews. I even did NPR.

I mean, this was supposed to be one of those nights, the kind you imagine when setting out to make a creative impact on the world.

So, right as the clock hit 8, my stage manager walked over.

“Good news or bad news first?” she asked.

“Good news,” I said, already smiling. I was ready.

“The press coverage was incredible,” she said.

My heart jumped. Here we go.

Then she paused.

“Bad news. Only two people are here.”

Two people. In a 75-seat theater.

Apparently, the band Mumford and Sons was in town that night. And Portland, Maine, made a very reasonable choice.

My first instinct was to cancel, to spare myself the embarrassment, to pretend the night had never happened. But then I found out those two people, after hearing a profile on the radio earlier that week, had driven nearly three hours to be there.

Three hours. For my story.

They came because something in it connected with them.

So, I swallowed my pride, took a breath and walked out anyway. I joked about the empty seats. I made a few playful digs at Mumford and Sons for stealing my audience. And then I did the thing I came to do. I told the story like the room was full, like it mattered, like this was Madison Square Garden.

They laughed. They listened. They hugged me afterward.

They reminded me why I do this.

The next night was a sold-out house, the kind of night you tell people about.

But the truth is, that performance for two still sits higher than most. Because it wasn’t about the crowd.

It was about who showed up.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

Grandpa Joe's Advice | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

When life goes sideways and things get tough, you need a memory that anchors you, something to hold onto when everything else feels shaky. For me, that memory always starts with my Grandpa Joe, a sausage, egg and cheese McMuffin, and a 45-minute drive from my home in Medina, Ohio, to Chagrin Falls, Ohio…

It’s a ride and destination that feels like a mirror. Grandpa Joe would always say, “Chagrin Falls is like Medina but with a waterfall.”

During that ride, he’d tell me stories – hundreds over the years. But one morning, he told me one I’ll never forget.

He told me about his time as an Air Force cadet. There was a dance, and a girl he wanted to ask out. Another cadet and his buddies cut him off, and it led to a fight in the parking lot. The first punch hit his face, then another, but he stayed on his feet. The guy was a state boxing champ, but my grandpa didn’t give in. When the next hook came, he ducked, and the guy broke his hand on my grandpa’s head. That’s how he won the fight – and yes, he got to dance with the girl.

He always said, “When you face conflict, first use your head, then use your fists. But if you have to use your fists, don’t forget to use your head.”

By the time the story ended, we were pulling into Bernie Schulman’s Drugstore. The place had a wall of old movies, all under 99 cents. He’d hand me a basket and say, “Pick 10 for the weekend.” Scorsese. Tarantino. Stallone. Schwarzenegger. It felt like a treasure hunt – my own film school before I knew what that meant.

Then we’d arrive home, and Grandma would have meatballs and marinara cooking, her smile breaking through the steam. I remember telling myself not to forget this, that this was one of the best days of my life.

Before dinner and a movie, Grandpa would hand me speeches from his old job at East Ohio Gas and have me perform them out loud.

He’d say, “How you speak matters, so take the audience on a journey. Someday, you’ll get a chance to connect with people. Don’t miss it. Let them know they’re not alone.”

That stuck with me ever since. So here I am, and here you are.

That memory of Grandpa Joe still anchors me when things get tough. I still remember what I told myself that day. And I hope this story sparks an anchor memory for you – maybe one you need right now. But whatever you’re going through, like my grandpa always said, “Remember, this too shall pass.”

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

1. If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, read Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly
2. Outside of Medina? Digital versions available online at YouOhioNews.com and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.
3. Want to skip the internet search? Get Stories in a Snap sent directly to your inbox every week!

The Deer Keeper | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

I got a message that said, “I think it’s dead, and it’s in your backyard...

Not exactly the kind of text you want to get. It came from our landscaper, and the photo was of a baby deer laying lifeless in a small wooded area in the backyard of our Medina home.

It’s hard to even talk about. I wasn’t sure what to do or who to call, so I called the non-emergency line.

Ten minutes later, a red pickup truck pulled up. Out stepped a guy in Carhartt overalls with tattoos, a beard, the works. I asked, “You the deer guy?” He nodded and said they call him for this kind of thing. When he saw it, he knelt down and said quietly that I wouldn’t believe the stuff he’d seen.

That’s when I realized that beneath all that toughness was a sensitive man doing a brutal job. He told me stories about coyotes, pets, cars, and how life and death collide in the suburbs.

Then he asked if I had kids. I raised my eyebrows.

When I said yes, he told me to close the curtains so they wouldn’t have to see him carrying the body back to his truck. “There’s enough chaos in the world,” he said.

So I did.

When I came back out, he was placing the deer gently into the bed of his truck, laying it down on a blanket he had put there first. That small act of grace stopped me in my tracks. I reached for my wallet and thanked him, but he shook his head and said that’s what they pay him for.

Then he said something I’ll never forget.

“I try to make it nice for them, the animals. They don’t get a proper ceremony, so I just do the best I can. I’d want someone to do the same for me.”

Then he drove away, and I stood there thinking maybe I met a saint that day. Or maybe I just met the Deer Keeper.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, you can find Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly, online at YouOhioNews.com, and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.

What the Barbershop Window Taught Me | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

When I was a kid, one of my good buddies betrayed me.

I won’t name him, but we had a pact in sixth grade: never tell the math teacher who made the fart noises. Truth is, it was both of us. A true tag team. Secret handshake and everything.

After class, the teacher asked who it was. I crossed my arms and said I didn’t know anything. My buddy pointed at me and said it was Aaron. In that moment, I felt like Michael Corleone watching Fredo fold. The wild part is, I actually expected it.

But why?

Was it in my blood? I mean, my great-grandfather, who his children called “Pa,” literally snuck onto a ship from Sicily, an island conquered so often that people survived by assuming everyone had an angle. Pa’s son Joe, my grandfather, once asked him if he trusted anyone. Pa said he “didn’t trusta nobody.” Not his son. Not his wife. Not even himself.

Why?

“I mighta talk inna my sleep.”

To say the least, suspicion ran deep in my past, but that was just a primer for what actually prepared me for that classroom ambush.

Picture it: Saturday mornings. Antenna TV. WWF Superstars. Pure storytelling chaos in 45 minutes. My favorite tag team was The Rockers, Shawn Michaels and Marty Jannetty. Beloved. Electric. Then came the barbershop window. They hugged on Brutus Beefcake’s show, and I cheered.

Then Shawn superkicked Marty and sent him through the glass.

The next day, every kid at school talked about it. That day we learned a truth: Anyone can turn on you.

So when my buddy squealed on me in sixth grade, I knew exactly what happened. He pulled a Shawn Michaels. I still use that moment as code. When someone betrays someone else, I say they put them through the barbershop window.

The crazy thing is, recently I was walking with my wife and froze. She asked what was wrong. I pointed across the street at a man who looked familiar. I told her that in sixth grade, that man put me through the barbershop window.

And that I haven’t been the same since.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, you can find Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly, online at YouOhioNews.com, and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.

When the Compass was a Medina Classroom | Aaron Calafato's Stories in a Snap

At the funeral, I froze. Do I go right or left? Do I sit with friends and family, or with guests and acquaintances? I didn’t want to make the wrong move, so I stood stuck in the doorway. At the front row of a hot church, my friend TJ sat slumped forward, his girlfriend’s arm around him. It was his grandmother’s funeral, and I could see how much he was hurting. That hesitation took me back to another time when right and left felt impossible for me to figure out.

It was first grade at Ella Canavan Elementary School. My parents were divorcing, the house was chaos, and Mrs. Brown’s classroom was the only steady place I had. She was strict but kind, firm but compassionate. She gave me guardrails when everything else was falling apart. And she helped me with something that haunted me: I couldn’t tell my right from my left. The kids teased me about it, so I would hide in the classroom at recess.

One day Mrs. Brown knelt beside me, flower dress and curly hair, and said, “Let me try something new.” She asked me to close my eyes and paint the classroom in my imagination. On the right, the wall, chalkboard, bulletin board. On the left, the window, trees, car in the distance. “Can you see it in your mind?” she said.

“I can!” I said with a smile. She smiled back and said, “Now, whenever you can’t find your direction, just picture this classroom.”

That memory became my compass. To this day, when someone says right or left, I go back to that room. And at the funeral, standing frozen in the doorway, I did it again. I imagined Mrs. Brown’s classroom, took a left, and walked right up to TJ where we hugged for what felt like forever.

Because it was Mrs. Brown who lay in that casket. Both TJ’s grandmother and my first-grade teacher, the woman who taught me my left from my right.

📖 Stories in a Snap is a weekly series of short, written stories by Aaron Calafato, adapted directly from his award-winning 7 Minute Stories Podcast. Each piece begins as a story told out loud and is reshaped for the page, so you can read it in just a few minutes.

If you’re a Medina, Ohio resident, you can find Stories in a Snap in print by subscribing to The Medina Weekly, online at YouOhioNews.com, and in blog form right here at 7minutestories.com.