At work I interview the new dean, then transcribe the tape and edit the conversation for a magazine Q&A. At home I interview people for a freelance article, transcribe their tapes, then tell their stories. I’ve listened to a lot of tape lately, my fingers flying on the keyboard, sometimes getting all tangled up with each other trying to keep up with the voices. I marvel at all the pitches, the inflections, the pacing. Most of all, I marvel at the stories: a man grows up in Africa, learning how to bake at his mother’s side; a young woman receives a kidney from a high school classmate, which makes it possible for her to become an medal-winning cyclist and a mother.

A lot has changed about this business I’m in. But one thing that hasn’t are the stories. And whenever I’m feeling flat, stunned, gasping for air, I try to remember them.