Host: Marc Sollinger

Marc: [00:00:02] Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm Marc Sollinger, producer of the podcast and your host for this episode. 

I look almost exactly like a younger version of my father. We've got the same slightly exhausted brown eyes, the same slump to our shoulders. And our hair-- Well, let's just say that my hair is starting to get a little thin up top, and. I am coming up to the age where my dad lost most of his hair. 

Intellectually, I always knew I'd probably go bald after all that's what happened to my dad, but I was still absolutely shocked when my hairline started to slowly retreat from my forehead. I guess I could try some weird mail order hair products or something, but I don't know. 

My dad passed away when I was in my early 20s. I like looking like him. I like looking like he looked at my age. I like knowing that my dad went through the process of going bald just like me. We have this strange connection of legacy through our hair, or rather our lack thereof. 

On this episode, we'll be sharing two stories about how hair can serve as a jumping off point for connection. First up, we've got a story that starts in a salon and goes someplace entirely different. Heather Rae told this at an Asheville, North Carolina StorySLAM, where theme of the night was Comfort Zone. Here's Heather, live at The Moth. 

[cheers and applause]

Heather: [00:01:29] Hi. I am a highly anxious person. Every day, I wake up and I immediately start gagging. It's my body's way of rejecting being awake. I think it's because it knows what my brain's about to do to us. I'm uncomfortable all of the time, but one of the things that makes me THE most uncomfortable is having to ask for help. 

In 2016, I was living in Los Angeles. I woke up one morning gagging as usual. And remembered that the day before, I had gotten a terrible haircut. I had been so upset about it that I couldn't do anything about it at the time. [chuckles] So, I tipped her and I left. 

As I looked in the mirror that morning and I saw that instead of the shoulder length haircut with a few simple layers that I had requested, what I had received was Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz. So, it was like little pieces of straw just hanging out. It was awful. So, I had to call the salon. I call them and I'm crying. And surprisingly, they're just so nice about it. They're like, “Come on in. We'll fix it.” And I'm like “Can you make sure that other stylist isn't there, because I'm mad at her, but also I don't want to make her feel bad?” [audience laughter] So, they say, that's fine. 

I'm trying to get ready and get out the door, but every little thing is going wrong. Not big things, little, little things, like, I stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara wand, I stepped in fresh cat puke with a bare foot, I dropped my coffee on the way out the door, and the Santa Ana winds were blowing. They're the kind of wind that will get something in your eye even if you're wearing goggles. Like, they're mean. They're also called the devil winds. 

So, I finally leave the house, walk out into the devil winds with my pieces of straw flying around, I'm pissed. It's like making it even worse. I get to near the salon. I park like two blocks away on a residential street. I hop out of my car, leave my car door open. Good. I go to grab my car door. 

As I'm extending my arm, [wind howling]. Click, the Santa Ana winds. Devil wind gusted my car door shut, which you might think, just open it, right? No. Because what I had done when I opened my car door was hit that lock button, because I watch a lot of Law & Order. So, I'm standing there on the side of the street. My car door is shut. It's locked. It's running. My phone's inside, my purse is inside. 

At this moment, what I decided to do was throw my arms in the air, look at the sky and scream, “Why?” And then, I immediately started laughing crazily, because I thought I was so funny for doing that. I look across the street, and there's a lady there getting out of her car. She's clearly witnessed it. She just looks at me and says, “Hey, do you need help?” [chuckles] “Yes, angel lady of the devil winds. Absolutely, I do.” [audience laughter] Like, “Please come and help me.” 

And so, she comes over and she lets me borrow her phone. I call a friend. They're going to come help with an extra car key or something, but they're going to be like 30 minutes. By the time I'm off the phone, this angel lady of the devil winds has waved down a man in a white truck full of tools, because there's always a guy in a white truck full of tools in LA. So, she's talking to him in Spanish, explaining the situation. He comes over to my car with a crowbar and a stick of bamboo. 

The idea is he's going to crowbar the top part of my door open. She's going to stick the bamboo down in there and push the unlock button. But the angle is weird. She can't get it from there. She just looks at me and goes, “I'm going to get on top of your car.” I said, “Okay.” [audience laughter] 

So, she's on top of my car, the guy's crowbarring it, but there's a glare. She's having a hard time getting it in the right angle because of the sun. It's going down. A girl is walking down the street. She looks curious. She's like, “What's up here?” I tell her what's going on. She's like, “I don't know what I could do to help, but I'm going to get coffee down the street if you guys want some. And also, it's by the salon, if you want me to tell them what's going on with you.” “Excellent. Amazing stranger, thank you. Thank you, second Angel.” Okay? 

So, now, I'm sitting there with the-- And then, I see like-- I'm running around looking for like palm fronds or a piece of a tree to shield this glitter. A guy's walking down the street and he's got his zip up hoodie on. I used to be a costumer, so I look at that hoodie. I'm like, “Hey, what's going on?” He's like, “Oh, what's going on with you, guys?” There's a lady with her feet like dangling off one side of your car. She's on her stomach, like angling this little piece of bamboo into my window.” And he's like, “Oh, absolutely, you can use my hoodie.” He's over there holding the glare. So, the girl's back with the coffee by now. 

So, what happens is, my friend rolls up. She has her window rolled out and she sees me standing there holding an iced coffee, guy with the crowbar, crowing my window open, lady on top of my car, feet dangling, angling the bamboo down into the window. We got iced coffees, the guys with the hoodie, and Paco looks at me and goes, “Do you know any of these people?” [audience laughter] I said, “No.” She just went, “Typical.” [chuckles] 

She goes to park her car and come back. Within those few seconds, she's doing that. I hear them behind me exclaiming, they've done it. They unlocked my car. We all pass out the iced coffees. She climbs down. We're hugging. This is crazy. I'm going to tell my roommate about this later, that's what all the other people are saying. And I just go and get my hair cut, because they did hold the appointment for me. It was amazing. 

Well, one thing that happened was that the guy with the crowbar had been really concerned that I was going to get my car messed up by having him do that. And he was right. So, for years after that, every time I drove on the interstate, the whistling, it killed me. The rain would drip into the seat belt. Well, and I'd have a wet seatbelt. Every time I got pissed about one of those things, I would remember that time those four strangers helped me in a time where I really, really needed it. And I didn't even have to ask. Thank you. 

[cheers and applause]

Marc: [00:06:43] That was Heather Rae. Heather is a ceramic and botanical jewelry artist, born and raised in North Carolina. She began spinning stories for family and friends, the moment she learned to speak. She enjoys pressing flowers, writing silly poems and telling stories on stage. 

Remember, if you want to tell your story on a Moth stage or just hear some incredible tales from your own community. Moth StorySLAMs are happening throughout the country and throughout the world. Just go to themoth.org/events for the full list. 

Up next, another story about hair leading to connection. Imogen Wall told this at a London GrandSLAM, where theme was When Worlds Collide. Just as a note, this story talks about someone experiencing the suicide of a loved one. If that subject is difficult for you, you might want to skip this. Here's Imogen, live at The Moth.

[applause] 

Imogen: [00:07:39] So, about four months ago, I had one of those mornings where you look in the mirror, and you look at your hair and you go, “What is that?” It really was disgusting. It was greasy at the top and the ends were dry. I think I'd washed it twice in two months. 

I had a good, I think, reason for this. About a month beforehand, my father had died. Unexpectedly, he took his own life and plunged all of us into the kind of intensity and grief that meant that actually getting out of bed had been an achievement. But the funeral was approaching, and I thought I can't do anything about most of this, but hair is how we frame the face we put on the world, and I have to go and put my face on the world and I can do something about my hair. 

So, I phoned up salon SHINE in Stonington, who are great. I went down there and I explained the situation They were lovely. They said, “Unfortunately, your normal stylist isn't here, so Jamal is going to be taking care of you today.” I looked over, and there was Jamal, and he was tall and skinny and he had very tight jeans and a directional T-shirt and a hat. Underneath this hat was this mass of bright blonde curls, like ludicrously camp cartoon curls. He was grinning at me. 

I'm not hugely proud of this, but I thought of all the days to get the really enthusiastic hipster. [audience laughter] But there's no rule that says you have to talk to your hairdresser, so I thought, well, I'm just going to enjoy being looked after. So, we went downstairs, and he put the chemicals on my hair to take the dye job out and washed all that off and I didn't say anything. We didn't talk. And then, I sat down and I got my magazine. I was very pointedly reading my magazine. We didn't talk. 

And then, he said something. He looked at me and seriously, he said, “You're very tanned. Been in any one holiday recently?” I don't actually think hairdressers said that. It turns out they do, or this one did. I really didn't want to talk, so I did that very English thing of saying, “No, just a work trip.” End. 

So, went straight over his head. He was like, “Oh, really? Where'd you go?” And I said, “Kenya.” Same deal. He said, “Oh, my neck of the woods.” So, I looked at him and I said, “Oh, are you Kenyan?” He said, “No, I'm Somali.” I thought, oh, I'm not sure. Why would I thought-- I thought I need to pay attention to that. I'm an aid worker, so I know a little bit about Somalia and what's been going on. I look after refugees. 

And I said, “When did you leave Somalia?” And he said, “Actually, I was never there. We were living in Switzerland. My dad was a very wealthy businessman, so I grew up in Switzerland. And then, the war happened, and he lost everything and we had to leave Switzerland, but we got refugee status in Canada. So,  we went to Canada, and I grew up in Canada.” 

And I said, “Oh, so, how did you end up in London?” And he said, “Well, my parents moved here, because they wasn't religious enough for them in Canada. But I didn't come here immediately. I went to Pakistan.” And I said, “What on earth-- Why do you go to Pakistan?” He said, “My parents sent me. I'm gay. They don't like that so much. So, they sent me to be educated in Pakistan, because they thought that would fix it.” And I said, “Wow.” And he said, “I got to learn Urdu.” [audience laughter] And I said, “Is it easier for you now in London?” And he said, “Oh, yes. Kind of.” 

In this really chirpy way, he told me about how you know-- Because he was Somalian, and people on the street, other Somalis, knew he was Somali. He got stick. He got shoutout supermarkets. He said, “I can't get Ubers anymore, because if the drivers are Somali, then they just tell me I've left the path of truth, and it's all very difficult.” 

He was so chirpy and bouncy as he was saying this. I was looking at him, and looking at the way he was dressed and thinking, what courage and how lightly he is wearing it and how that hair, I thought, was cartoony. He is such a choice to look like that. I thought, again, how hair is how we frame the face we place on the world, and how he had done that to tell everybody who he was and what a brave thing that was to do. Just as I was thinking that, he said, “Okay, you're done.” And I said, “Oh.” 

Having not wanted to talk to him at all, I wasn't ready to be done yet. He looked at me and he said, “Would you like a glass of wine?” And I said, “No, that's really kind, but I've got to get back. There's so much to organize.” He looked at me again and he said, “They told me what happened upstairs. I'm so sorry about your dad. Have a glass of wine. And it's the end of my shift, so I'll stay and have one with you.” I couldn't say no to that. So, he disappeared into the back room, and he came out with two crappy little plastic cups full of really disgusting wine. [audience laughter] 

He looked at me and he said, “What should we drink to? Should we drink to your dad?” I couldn't speak at that point. And he said, “Okay, too much.” He said, “Okay, let's drink to happier times.” So, me with my gloopy chrysalis on my head and the gay Somali refugee with his brave, brave blonde curls, we sat in the basement of a hairdressers in Stonington, and we drank to happier times. Thank you. 

[cheers and applause]

Marc: [00:14:37] That was Imogen Wall. Imogen is a humanitarian by instinct and profession, a former humanitarian aid worker, now therapist and mental health specialist. She's the daughter of Sir Nicholas Wall, senior judge of the Family Division and campaigner for women's rights. Adored father, husband and grandfather. 

Imogen wanted to say that everything she does now is with her father in mind, rest in power. If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, you can call 988 in the US for free and confidential support. 

That's it for this episode. From all of us here at The Moth, we hope you have a story filled week. 

Marc Sollinger is the podcast producer of The Moth, the co-creator of the audio drama Archive 81, a lover of museums, and someone who feels very strange reading his own bio. 

This episode of The Moth Podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Jenness, Sarah Jane Johnson and me, Marc Sollinger. The rest of The Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Jenifer Hixson, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Marina Klutse, Suzanne Rest, Brandon Grant-Walker, Lee Ann Gullie and Aldi Kaza. 

The Moth would like to thank its supporters and listeners. Stories like these are made possible by community giving. If you're not already a member, please consider becoming one or making a one-time donation today at themoth.org/giveback. All Moth stories are true, as remembered by the storytellers.

For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story and everything else, go to our website themoth.org. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, The Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.