I tell stories for a living. I freelance and tell the stories of people and their homes, but I also work part-time at a local university in the marketing department. When we have new people join the department, their supervisor brings them around to meet everyone, and when they get to me there’s a pause. “Patricia writes for the foundation and …”

I smile back from my swivel chair in my grey cubicle that’s only decoration is a Mondrian-style white board that holds my to-do list and say, “I tell stories. I write words.”

It may seem simple, but I am not minimizing what I do. I tell people’s stories. When I sit down with someone – whether he or she is a student or engineering professor or donor – I feel their protective shell. I hear the formality of their voice. I understand their need to protect – their story, their project, their ego – and I respect it. I honor all of those things.

I know in this moment at the beginning that regardless of how it goes, I will be able to tell their story. I am, however, uncertain that I will be able to assure them that they can trust me. I physically hold my heart open so they sense that I’m there to receive what they have to say. I don’t judge. If I am lucky, they will know that I am interested – whether I have technical knowledge or not – and will do my best to translate the specialized and intricate nature of what they do to people who might not be familiar with it at all.

Sometimes I go into these assignments with a sense of trepidation. I worry that the information will be way over my head. Often, this is a real concern. I tell them, “Explain it to me as if I were your mother and your mother did not understand anything about the subject.”

They laugh and do just that. We find our way. In the end – as I turn off my recorder and flip closed my legal pad – we are relaxed. We trust one another. What is more likely than not is that they email to tell me more – something they thought of later that makes things clearer, richer. To a one, they always let me know that I can follow up if I need more.

This is, in essence, the same concept of the Sobremesa dinners. A bringing together of people all over the world for the same meal that creates a sense of community and connection. “Sobremesa” is the Spanish definition of that time after dinner where people relax and linger.

My partner and chef, Todd Schulte and I are hosting a Sobremesa dinner in Kansas City with Ryan Sciara of Underdog Wine Co., Chentell Shannon founder Convivial Production and Leslie Fraley in her remarkable shop, Fine Folk, on June 15th. This global series developed by Sunday Suppers supports the The Hunger Project. It will be the perfect occasion to be with people you know – or maybe don’t know – and hear their stories.

We’d love it if you’d join us.

All images courtesy of Sunday Suppers.