Host: Jodi Powell
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Jodi: [00:00:12] From PRX, this is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jodi Powell. I'm a producer and director at The Moth. When I first started thinking about hosting this hour, I was drawn to a common theme that rings loudly in Moth stories, service. I might be extra tuned from my days as a waiter in New York City or from seeing my grandmother always attending to our neighbors far and near in the hills of Jamaica, where I grew up.
It feels good to do something on behalf of others. Your lifelong partner, the person behind you in the supermarket, someone you've never met or someone who shows up unexpectedly at your door and gets a place at your dinner table. To be in service of is a foundational pillar. It is universal, whether what's being served is kind words, courage, pasta, or love.
The first story comes from Stacey Bader Curry. She told it at a recent GrandSLAM at the Regent in Los Angeles, where we partnered with KCRW. Here's Stacey.
[cheers and applause]
Stacy: [00:01:20] So, on our fifth date, Dave and I walked the Silk Road, which was an exhibit at the Museum of Natural History in New York. On our previous dates, we'd been to a wine bar, a concert, a poetry SLAM, the zoo, everywhere except the one place I really wanted to go to bed. There was just like this weird disconnect between these mushy things Dave would see and write to me, and then this distance he was keeping. When we were done with the museum, I was done with this sadistic courtship crap, and I just wanted to go home. But then he said, “Do you want to go to Shake Shack?” And I said, “Fine,” because I love cheeseburgers.
And so, we go to Shake Shack. It's crowded, and we have to wedge in close at this little counter space. He smells so good, and I'm falling in love with him and then he says, “There's something I have to tell you.” I want to throw a pickle in his face, because I am 38 years old, I am divorced, I have children and I now realize every single man I meet online has something they have to tell me. [audience laughter] So, I say, “What?” And he says, “Look, I'm really attracted to you, but I have this autoimmune disease, and it affects my bile ducts. I have an infection, and I've been walking around with a drain in my side and a bag of bile strapped to my leg, and it's not very sexy. I'll get these infections from time to time, because there's no cure for this disease. And eventually, I'll need a liver transplant.” All I heard from this, is that he was very attracted to me. [audience laughter]
Dating is hard in New York, y' all. I did some quick mental tabulations to see if a wonky liver was a deal breaker. Yeah. No, it wasn't. [audience laughter] So, I leaned in to kiss him. But then, I had a really dark thought, and I said, “Hey, you're not dating me for my liver, are you?” [audience laughter] And he said, “No, no, no. I'm on a transplant list. If I ever have an emergency situation, I can have a liver donor. They give me a lobe of their liver, and both the segments regenerate to a new liver. My brother has already agreed to do this for me.” This was the best news, because his brother went to Yale and was a doctor, so maybe now my Jewish mother would get off my back. So, I said, “Great.”
And it was great. We fell in love, and we moved in, and we had a child and we did not get married, because we're very bohemian in New York. And then, about two years ago, Dave started feeling lousy. An MRI revealed an emergency situation. He had a very aggressive form of cancer growing deep in his liver. And the doctor said, “You need that transplant now.” So, he called his brother, the doctor who went to Yale, who didn't know his blood type. When he got tested, he was not compatible. But even though I went to a state school, I know that I am A+, [audience laughter] which is what Dave is. And the doctor said, “Yes, we can consider you as a donor.” So, Dave didn't know it, but he was dating me for my liver. [audience laughter]
I began testing right away. You meet with 12 health care professionals, and they all try to scare you in the beginning by saying, “You understand the risks. They range from infection to hernia to death.” And I was like, “You know, what choice do I have? If I lose him, I, by extension, lose my life.” Everything was going great until I got to appointment number 11, the Hepatologist, the liver doctor, Dr. Fox. She was single, so she wanted to know what site I met Dave on. [audience laughter] OkCupid. We were joking. But then, she said in like all seriousness, “If you don't actually want to go through with this, I can just say you have a fatty liver and no one has to know.”
I had to fight back tears when she said that, because I had been doing this to save Dave. But during the process, I stopped thinking of him as my partner and as somebody's son and brother and friend and father. And with this chunk of flesh that would just grow back, I could save a human being's life. I was not going to just lose this opportunity. And so, I held my breath as she examined my liver and I only let it out when she said, “You have a beautiful liver.” And so, my 12th appointment was just an MRI where they just had to map out how they were going to resect a lobe of my liver. And the MRI revealed I have a very healthy liver, but also a very lopsided liver, and they couldn't just resect a lobe. And so that was it, I lost my chance, but I couldn't dwell on that because I had to find Dave a new liver.
And so, I started on Facebook, as one does when you need an organ. [audience laughter] The very next day, my friend, Sarah Kate, texted me and she said, “I'm A+. Can I help?” I really like her, so I didn't know how to respond. And then, she said, “It would be my honor to do this.” And so, on Valentine's Day 2017, we had this really weird group date at Columbia Presbyterian, and Sarah Kate gave 58% of her liver to my now husband, Dave. They're both doing great. I get mad at Dave all the time, so that just shows you how great he's doing. As for Sarah Kate, she was born and raised here in Los Angeles, and so all I can say is this really is a city of angels. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jodi: [00:07:43] That was Stacey Bader Curry. Before the pandemic, Stacey was a very busy mother, a real estate broker living in New York City and a storyteller. But has since relocated to Maine, Dave and Sarah Kate continue to thrive and were registered to run the 2020 New York City Marathon together. The 50th anniversary of the New York City Marathon fell on Dave's 50th birthday. Stacey is now a homeschool teacher and is applying to law school.
Sarah Kate has become an advocate for living donation. To find out more about living donation and to see photos of Stacey and Dave's early days and a glimpse from their surgery, visit themoth.org.
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Our next story comes from Kristin Huang, live from our Boston Mainstage, where we partnered with WGBH and the Wilbur Theatre. Here's Kristin, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Kristin: [00:08:53] I'm six years old and I'm crouched in right field during tee-ball practice in my hometown of Iowa City, Iowa. A kid hits a fly ball my way, and I run, and I dive and I shout, “I've got it. I've got it.” But I miss it. From across the field, the shortstop calls, “Hey, are you a boy? You sound like a boy.” My coach and teammates all hear him. They don't say anything, but I'm indignant. “Are you kidding me? Look at my long black hair tied back in a ponytail. Look at my white tennis shoes with pink laces. Clearly, I'm a girl.” But his teasing cracks open a doubt in me.
So, that night, I go home and I use my parents answering machine to record myself. I play back my voice over and over. I record myself singing Happy Birthday. I record myself pretending to answer the phone. I record myself shouting, “I've got it. I've got it,” the way I did on the field that day. For the first time in my life, I hear myself the way other people hear me, “Whoa, I do have a really deep voice. A boy's voice.” I'm flooded with embarrassment. But this does explain a lot. It explains why at church I have to sing in falsetto in order to match the other girls and even grown women. I don't like the way my voice sounds when I force it up an octave, but I have always unconsciously done it, so that I'm not singing in the same register as the men.
I play back another loop of the answering machine. Okay, so this is why I can always make other kids giggle when I roar like a lion. It's so realistic from the back of my throat, all scratchy and raw. This is why adults sometimes do a double take when they hear my little girl's body speak for the first time. And I think, God, this is so unfair. I'm already the only Chinese kid in my school full of white Iowans. Do I really have to be the girl with the boy's voice too?
After that tee-ball practice, I get really good at being quiet and blending in. I stop singing at church. I hide all the parts of me that are different, even if that means disowning my heritage, not speaking up, not having my own opinions.
Eventually, I leave Iowa to go to Boston for college. I think this will be a good time for me to find my true voice. It's college, right? But it turns out not to be so easy. One evening, I am watching my friends perform in the school's gospel choir concert. I feel my soul just soaring with those harmonies and those lyrics, and I think I would love to be on stage with them, creating this beautiful music. I want to join. I want to be a part of that community. But then, the fear sets in, “What if they put me with the baritones?” Or, “What if I don't make the cut at all?” I'm so ashamed of my deep voice that I don't even try out.
When I find out a couple months later that our school funds traveling fellowships to go abroad for the summer, I apply immediately. I want to get as far away as possible. I apply to go to China, not just because it's on the other side of the globe, but also because I wonder, will it feel more like home? I arrive in China, and I'm supposed to be working in an orphanage for kids with special needs. But really, I'm just escaping. I don't know the first thing about kids.
On my first morning there, I wake up while it's still dark out and I board two different public buses that take me through the sprawling city of Nanning, near the border of Vietnam. As I ride the bus, I look at the faces of the people around me. And it's incredible. They all look like me. They look like they could be my mom or my dad, my cousins or my aunts.
Being Chinese doesn't carry any baggage in China. It feels like that just allows me to take more pride in who I am, in my culture and in my heritage. And because I'm not using up all this energy trying to blend in, I feel free. I feel light.
By the time I get to the orphanage, it's hot and it's humid. The orphanage is a big building with gleaming pink tile floors. I'm assigned to a room of 30 children, ages zero to five. They're packed in tight rows of cribs. I look around at the room and there's not that many toys. It turns out my glasses are a big hit. The kids love taking them off my face, trying them on and passing them around. That first week there, I bond with two girls in particular, Bao Yan, who is four and has cerebral palsy, as we do her PT and her OT exercises, and I bond with Chenyuan, who is just a baby, not even one.
My colleagues find out that I play piano. So, they rig up a keyboard for me in that room, and they have me do music therapy with the kids. I play piano for the children every afternoon. My colleagues want me to sing too, but I tell them, “No, no, no, I don't sing.” Because even though I feel freer here in China, my voice still feels like a liability.
A few days later, my co-workers are at a staff meeting, and I am alone in the room with all the kids. It's nap time, but they're mostly awake and crying in their cribs. The only thing I can think of to do to soothe this room full of crying kids is to sing. I sing the only song that I know all the verses to, Amazing Grace. I walk around singing, and I place my hand on each child and I cry. As I sing, the kids quiet down. They stop crying. It turns out they don't care that my voice is awkwardly deep. They show me that when I sing in falsetto to try to be like everyone else, my voice gets all thin and weak and shaky.
But when I sing in my natural register, yeah, my voice might be deep. It might be different, but it is rich and resonant and powerful. And that makes me feel invincible. That something I've been ashamed of my whole life can bring peace and comfort. So, when the kids ask me to keep singing that day, I do. When they ask me to sing again the next day, I do. Every day for the rest of the summer, I sing to these kids, and I sing for them and I sing for myself. I once was lost, but now am found. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jodi: [00:17:08] Kristin Huang lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with her husband, three children and pandemic puppy, Fluffy. She's a primary care physician, serving mainly Chinese immigrants and spending her free time hiking, reading and since COVID-19, supervising remote school. Kristin and I talked about our experience in China and its lasting impact.
I wondered what you were like returning to Boston. You know what I mean? How different were you than the kid that left that summer?
Kristin: [00:17:43] I think first part of the story was really struggling with my identity and where I fit in. I think that spending that summer in China really freed me from wanting to categorize myself or pigeonhole myself into a certain category. I did not think about how I might feel going to China. I just dove into it blindly. That part was very transformational in terms of being very anonymous in this large city in China and looking like everyone else.
I feel like part of what I got that summer was feeling normal, almost, like I was not sticking out, I blended in. That feeling was the first time I had ever experienced anything like it. That was also very freeing. And so, when I came back to Boston, it was really more about how can I give of myself on behalf of others. So, yeah, I think it gave me a different level of confidence in who I was and what I could use my voice to do.
Jodi: [00:19:05] By the way, Kristin Huang still sings now to her own children, one of whom is adopted and one of whom is named after one of the babies she cared for in the orphanage. To see photos of Kristin and her family, please visit themoth.org.
[softhearted music]
When we return, a college student undertakes her mother's special recipe to cook for her roommates, and a seasoned firefighter faces one of his biggest fears. That's when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
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Jay: [00:20:04] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Jodi: [00:20:17] This is The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jodi Powell. Back home in Jamaica, around domino tables, my brothers would sometimes decide to cook a late-night meal. It's called Tirranna boat. It is always the most tasty. But as a child, you must have the will to stay awake. And let's just say for dinner that late, the chef must deliver in service of friends. And that is the situation of our next teller. Kayleigh Hudson told this on the Denver StorySLAM stage with her media partners KUNC. Here's Kayleigh.
[cheers and applause]
Kayleigh: [00:20:53] So, my mom is a great cook. That was kind of wasted on us as kids when we insisted on a diet of frozen fish sticks, chicken nuggets and peanut butter on taco shells. But as I got older in high school and freshman year of college and I expanded my palate to include vegetables and meat that did not come from a microwave, I realized this woman can cook. And so, sophomore year of college, I go back down to school in South Carolina and I move into an apartment with two of my girlfriends I met freshman year.
And so, we just think like it's just so cool, like my first time not living at my parents’ house or in a dorm and we have a kitchen. And I decided, “You know what? I’m going to cook a meal for some of our friends that we haven't seen all summer as a welcome back kickoff to sophomore year.” I had never cooked a meal before that did not involve boiling water first, and pasta and cheese. Those are the only ingredients I really worked with. I was a freshman in college before that. And so, I invite them over and I was like, “What am I going to make?” Okay, well, my mom makes a really one of my favorite things is a London broil. I was like, “Okay, I'm going to make a London broil.” Okay. So, I call mom, I'm like, “I need to know exactly how you do this.” And she told me and I followed it to a T.
I invited people over on Saturday night. Friday, it spent all day marinating in the fridge and then Saturday morning, it goes in, start cooking all day. And then, I just cleaned up and I timed, I had salad, I had sides. I googled. I had a green thing and something else too, I'm sure. [audience laughter] I had a dessert. I had everything. And I'm just like, “All right, yeah, I'm totally my mother's child. Even though I look, act, talk and everything else like my dad, I got this for my mom.”
And I time everything to end right as people get there too. So, I'm thinking like, I'm hot stuff right now. So, people come over and I'm like, “Oh, welcome. Oh, I'm just finishing up a few things.” I invite them over to come look as I reveal this beautifully cooked London broil, the main entree. I have them gather around, and we go and I pull it out, and in front of us is an uncooked, raw, now room temperature slab of meat. [audience laughter] Not cooked one bit.
So, we all sit there and we stare for a few seconds. And then, finally, Caroline, sweet, sweet Caroline says to me as gently as she can, I'm in South Carolina, so I'll put on the accent a little bit, as gently as she can to me. She goes, “Well, Kayleigh, why did you try to cook it in the drawer?” [audience laughter] I tell her very matter of factly, “Oh, no, that's a broiler.” Someone else chimes in and is like, “No, that's just the drawer where you store the pans.” [audience laughter] And I'm like, “Oh, okay, I've got some dummies for friends. I'll educate someone else now.” “No, yeah, you keep your pans in there when you're not using it as a broiler.” Well, eventually I got--
There's some education that happens on my part. I learned some ovens, that's just a drawer. [audience laughter] But in my defense, I grew up my mom's oven, the only one I'd ever really dealt with until this point, was that was a broiler. That's where you put the raw London broil in. You take a cooked one out at the end of the day. [audience laughter] So, luckily, just a few days before, we had met our cute neighbors, who has cute next-door neighbors, sophomore year of college. And so, one of them had gone to culinary school. So, of course, I'm like, “I get to go see the cute neighbors.” Okay, I have to ask for help though in the kitchen.
So, I walk over there and it's like, “Oh, hey, I don't remember me. Yeah, my friend tried to make a London broil in our oven [audience laughter] and I wasn't paying attention and didn't have a chance to tell her like that's a drawer.” [audience laughter] So, that didn't hold very long. He was very quickly brought-- The truth came out very quickly. But he came over, saved the day. So, we had a great little entree of something green, probably broccoli and maybe some celery, who knows? And dessert and everything. And then, we had our entree later. He did save the day.
I have maybe tried to cook two real meals since. I'm going to be real talk right now. This happened like 11 years ago, 12 years ago. [audience laughter] But you would think the most embarrassing part would be that I spent a whole day-- I had a whole day where I thought I was cooking a London broil in a drawer. [audience laughter] But really, honestly, the part that was the hardest to come clean to my friends about was I told them, “Y'all, about halfway through the cook time for hours in, per my mom's instructions that I followed, I opened it up and I flipped it over.” [audience laughter] No idea. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jodi: [00:26:11] Kayleigh Hudson is the financial controller for an affordable housing nonprofit in Colorado Springs. She says, she enjoys karaoke, playing ultimate Frisbee, keeping her partner entertained with hilarious dad jokes and considering the consequences of her Gamecock football devotion.
When I called Kayleigh about this story, she said that she has come a long way since and that she has recently acquired an instant pot and has now gone full gourmet. Her friends can vouch for her. She also says she has advanced from googling, how to dice bell peppers. However, 15 years later, she has not attempted another London broil. To see pictures of Kayleigh Hudson in the kitchen, please visit themoth.org and go to the Extras.
The next story comes to us from a Detroit GrandSLAM, where we partnered with WDET. It was held at the Senate Theater. Here's Sergeant Sivad Johnson.
[applause]
Sivad: [00:27:27] About two years ago, I was going through some emails for work. I ran across one that said, “Join City of Detroit Toastmasters.” And I thought, what the heck is a toastmaster? Then I go, maybe it's an organization of experts at browning bread in small slotted appliances. [audience laughter] Or, it's where they teach people how to create clever salutations before raising a glass or downing a shot of something. I’m nothing against you toast lovers out there, but the latter appealed to me more. So, I clicked it. “Discover and develop your skills in public speaking.” Public speaking? A no. See, I was that super shy kid that would dodge anything that would have me in the spotlight.
I was a little bit better as an adult, but I still figured I would rather die or have my shins scraped with one of those carrot peelers [audience laughter] than to speak in public. I was pretty comfortable in my own little world, so I didn't do it. But I was also going through a tough time in my life. My mom was losing a short battle with dementia. It had quickly taken her strong body, her cool, calming voice, her razor sharp and beautiful mind. It was devastating. But it proved to me that there are no guarantees in life. About two weeks later, I found that email again and opened it. I decided to go to the first meeting, just to check it out, but I ended up joining the club.
Now, initially, I didn't really participate until I thought, why pay this money, show up and not really give it a full go. So, I did. A few months in, a request was made for some of the members to give a humorous speech. So, I told one of a time that I tried this insane hot sauce. They completely destroyed me going in and coming out. [audience laughter] But they picked me to represent the club in the competition. And I started thinking, no, wait, wait, here's that spotlight thing. I don't want to do it. But I nervously stepped in the spotlight and to my surprise, I won second place. And that sent me to the next round, and I took first. I started thinking, this is a setup, isn't it? I moved on another round and I didn't place at all, but it was okay.
See, I discovered by stepping into the unknown. It was scary, but I felt alive again. So, I kept going to the meetings. And then, I got a call from my sister. A while back, she and her husband had moved mom in with their family to take care of her, but things were really, really bad now. Through intense fear, I hopped a plane with my brother. And the three of us sat by her side, consoling her and each other until she transitioned. I love you, mom. For life, for love, for everything, I thank you.
There was a fuzziness and anxiousness to my world after that. So, I decided to embark on a year of yes and vowed to try new things, almost anything, without second guessing it or overthinking it. I wanted to see what's on the other side of the unknown. It led to me delivering a keynote speech, talking to students in schools, jumping out of a perfectly good airplane [audience laughter] that was in the air, by the way, [audience laughter] and taking daily cold showers to jump start my mornings.
And then, I got a chance to share a story with another organization whose logo was this small, delicate bug that flutters around at night. Maybe you've heard of them? Well, I hadn't, but I said yes anyway. Do you know, two days before this event, I find out there will be 1,800 people in attendance. I'm like, “What? [chuckles] Okay, I probably should research a little bit before saying yes to some things.” But I stepped on stage with four other storytellers that night in a beautiful theater. My dad was my plus one. It was incredible to look out there and see him. I felt mom's presence as I spoke on that stage that night and I feel it again tonight.
I realized that there are no guarantees in life. And it's been a journey. You never know what you're going to get. I realized that stepping out of my comfort zone was very important. I don't know what stepping into these new territories will bring, but I do know a couple of things. It'll be more enlightening and more expanding with each yes, plus it'll make for better stories. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jodi: [00:33:34] That was Sergeant Sivad Johnson. In addition to being a public speaker and a 26-year veteran of the Detroit Fire Department, Sivad is also a true hero. Tragically, he died on August 21st, 2020, after rescuing three young girls from drowning in the Detroit River. Sivad hails from a rich lineage of firefighters. His father is now retired and his brother, Jamal, still serves in the Detroit Fire Department. When we heard the news about Sivad's passing, we were devastated. It took me back to the last time we saw him. We sat outside a restaurant in Flint, Michigan and as the sun set, he talked about his two daughters and with the biggest smile on his face, said how much he wanted to be everything to them and for them.
Sivad was a special member of our SLAM community in Detroit. And he left a lasting impression on the storytelling world. Sivad's book will be released posthumously, titled Becoming a Diamond: The Strongest, Most Valuable Version of You. To see some images of Sivad Johnson skydiving and with his daughters, please visit themoth.org and go to Extras.
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Coming up, a small act of kindness leads to something big. That's when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
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Jay: [00:35:45] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Jodi: [00:35:57] I sometimes think of in service of the like an extended hand. In my neighborhood in Harlem, I hear all the time people saying, “Good looking out,” when you pick the mail up or you hold the door, so they can bring all the laundry in or just generally keeping someone in mind.
In our next story, a scientist reminds us that sometimes we all need help along the way. Dr. Mary-Claire King told this in New York City in a show we did in partnership with the World Science festival. Here's Dr. King, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Dr. King: [00:36:31] The week of April Fool's Day of 1981 began badly. [audience laughter] That Sunday night, my husband told me he was leaving me. He had fallen in love with one of his graduate students, and they were headed back to the tropics the next day. I was completely devastated. It was totally unexpected. 33 years later, I still don't know what to say about it. I was just beside myself. He gave me a new vacuum cleaner to soften the blows. [audience laughter]
It was, of course, the middle of spring, quarter at Berkeley, so the next morning, I had my class as usual. I had to either go teach it or explain why not. It's far easier to go teach it. So, I dropped off Emily, who was five and three quarters at the time at kindergarten, along with her faithful Aussie, her Australian shepherd, who went everywhere with her.
Headed down to school, taught my class. I was leaving my class, must have been around 09:30, and my department chairman caught up with me and he said, “Come into my office.” I said, “Fine.” I had hoped to escape. Went into his office and he said, “I just wanted to tell you I've just learned you've been awarded tenure.” And of course, I burst into tears. [audience laughter]
Now, this department chairman, bless him, was a gentleman a full generation older than me. He had three grown sons. He had no daughters. He had certainly never had a young woman assistant professor in his charge before. He took my shoulders and he stepped back and he said, “No one's ever reacted like that before.” [audience laughter] And he said, “Sit down. Sit down.” He said, “What's the matter?” And I said, “It's not the tenure. It's not the tenure. It's that my husband told me last night he was leaving me.” He looked at me and he opened the drawer of his desk, he pulls out this huge bottle of Jack Daniels, [audience laughter] pours me a half a glass of it and said, “Drink this, you'll feel better.” [audience laughter] Monday morning at Berkeley. [audience laughter] So, I did, and I did. [audience laughter]
So, I made it through the day, got sober. [audience laughter] Around 03:30, I headed back up the hill to pick up Emily at the end of school. And did so. She hopped in the car and Ernie, her dog, hopped in the car and we drove the rest of the way home. Got home, walked up the stairs to the house, opened the house and it was absolute chaos. Someone had broken in. Everything was completely trashed. And in retrospect, what must have happened, my then husband had often worked at home. Whoever had been casing the neighborhood must have left our house side, because he was often there and he was unpredictably there at different times. But that day, of course, he hadn't been there and we were vulnerable and we were robbed.
So, I called 911. And a young Berkeley police officer came up and went through that house. And of course, I had no idea what had been taken and what hadn't, because my husband had actually taken many, many things with him Sunday night. I wasn't sure what should still be there or not. I explained that to officer Rodriguez. And he said, “As you figure it out, make a list.” And then, he went upstairs with Emily to her room. They opened the door of her room, and 18 inches deep of just chaos. The bed had been pulled apart, curtains pulled down, drawers all dumped out. Emily, five and three quarters, looked at officer Rodriguez and said, “I can't tell if the burglars were in here or not.” [audience laughter] And officer Rodriguez, to his eternal credit, did not crack a smile. He handed her his card and said, “Young lady, if you discover that anything is missing, [audience laughter] please give me a call.” [audience laughter]
So, now we're at Monday night. I was scheduled later that week to give a presentation in Washington, D.C. to the National Institutes of Health. The way this worked in those days was if you were a young professor and you were applying for the first time for a large grant, you were quite frequently asked to come back to NIH and give what was called a reverse site visit. Basically, explain what you planned to do, and then it would be decided if you were going to get what, in my case, was quite a substantial amount of money for the time over five years. It was terribly important. I had not done this before. It was brand new. It was going to be my first large grant on my own.
The plan had been for Emily to stay with her dad and for my mom to come out, arriving the next day, Tuesday, and to help out. And that had seemed, of course, at the time, like a great plan. Obviously, my mom, who was living in Chicago, didn't know anything about the events of the previous 24 hours. So, I thought, I'll just wait and explain to her when she gets here. It seemed far better than calling her what by now was quite late in Chicago because of all the business with the burglary and the police and all that.
So, the next day, we picked up my mom at San Francisco Airport and driving back to Berkeley, I explained to her what had happened on Sunday. She was very, very upset. She said, “I can't believe you've let this family come apart. I can't believe this child will grow up without a father,” which was never true and has never been true since. “How could you do this? How could you not put your family first?” Emily is sitting there in the car. “I just cannot imagine. I'm going to go talk to Rob.” And I said, “He's back in Costa Rica.” “This just can't be.”
She became more and more agitated. By the time we got home to Berkeley, she was extremely agitated. Emily was terrified. It was clearly not going to work for her to care for Emily. And after a couple of hours, my mom said, “I'm going home. I just can't imagine that this has happened. You must stay here and take care of your child. You can't imagine, how can you even think of running off to the East Coast at a time like this?” So, to put it into context, now, 33 years later, my father had died less than a year before. And just two months after this, my mother was diagnosed with epilepsy. So, in context, it was not as irrational as it seemed at the time. But at the time, of course, it was devastating.
So, I said, “Okay, you're right. You should go home, and I'll arrange for you to have a ticket to go home tomorrow. We'll take you out to the airport and I'll cancel the trip.” So, I called my mentor, who had been my postdoc advisor at UC San Francisco until just a couple of years before, and said-- He was already in Washington, D.C. by happenstance, at an oncology meeting. And I said, “I'm not going to be able to come.” I explained briefly what had happened. Of course, he knew me well, and he just listened to all this. He had grown daughters and said, “Look. Come.” And I said, “I can't.”
And he said, “Bring Emily.” He said, “Emily and I know each other. I'll sit with her while you're giving your presentation.” He had grandchildren of his own. He said, “It will be fine.” I said, “She doesn't have a ticket.” He said, “As soon as we hang up the phone, I'm going to call the airline and get her a ticket. Pick up the ticket at the airport tomorrow when you take your mom back. It'll be on the same flight as yours. Everything will be fine.” And I said, “You sure?” And he said, “Yes, I have to call the airline now. Good night.” He hung up.
In those days, it was very easy to rearrange tickets. [audience laughter] I arranged for my mother to have the table ticket to go back to Chicago. And if I remember correctly, her flight was, as it were, at 10 o' clock in the morning. So, we left Berkeley and plenty of time in principle to get to San Francisco Airport. And of course, it was one of those days that the Bay Bridge was just totally locked up. It was just horrible, horrible drive across. And what should have been a drive of 45 minutes, an hour and 45 minutes to get there. So, my mom's flight was about to leave in 15 minutes, and Emily's and my flight was about to leave in 45 minutes. And the line to pick up tickets, which I had mine, of course, I needed to pick up hers, was long, long, long, long, long. And of course, we had our suitcases. My mom had her suitcase and my mom was already fairly frail.
So, Emily and my mother and I were standing in the line, and I said, “Mom, can you make it down to your plane on your own?” Bear in mind, there's no security in these days, but of course, they're very long corridors. And she said, “No.” So, I said to Emily, “I'm going to need to go with grandmom down to her plane.” And my mother shrieked. I'm not going to scream into the mic. She shrieked, “You can't leave that child here alone.” And fair enough. [audience laughter] This unmistakable voice above and behind me said, “Emily and I will be fine.” I turned around and I said, “Thank you.” My mother looked at me and said, “You can't leave Emily with a total stranger.” And I said, “Mom, if you can't trust Joe DiMaggio, who can you trust?” [audience laughter]
[applause]
Joe DiMaggio looked at me, looked at my mother, gave Emily a huge grin, put out his hand and said, “Hi, Emily, I'm Joe.” [audience laughter] Emily shook his hand and she said, “Hello, Joe, I'm Emily.” And I said, “Mom, let's go.” [audience laughter] So, we headed down the hall. I got my mother to the plane, she got on the plane, fine. I got back. It was probably 20, 25 minutes by the time I got. And by that time, Emily and Joe were all the way up at the front chatting with each other by the counter.
Joe DiMaggio had wrangled Emily's ticket for her. She was holding her ticket. He was clearly waiting to get to his plane until I got back. So, I looked at him and I said, “Thank you very much.” And he said, “My pleasure.” He headed off down the hall, he turned right, he gave me this huge salute and wave and a tremendous grin and went off to his own plane. Emily and I went to Washington, D.C. The interview went fine. I got the grant, and that was the beginning of the grant that now, 33 years later, has become the story of inherited breast cancer and the beginning of the project that became BRCA1. Thanks.
[cheers and applause]
Jodi: [00:48:23] Dr. Mary-Claire King is the American Cancer Society Professor in the Department of Medicine and the Department of Genome Sciences at the University of Washington in Seattle. She was the first to show that breast cancer is inherited in some families, and as the result of mutations in the gene that she named BRCA1. Genetic testing based on her work has saved the lives of thousands of Women. In 2016, she was awarded the National Medal of Science by President Obama.
You can find these stories or others from The Moth Archive at themoth.org. And you can also find us on social media. We're on Facebook and Twitter, @themoth.
And that's it this week for The Moth Radio Hour. Thank you for joining us for stories of service, in service and by servers. What little deed will you serve up this week? Good looking out and walk good.
[overture music]
Jay: [00:49:41] Your host this hour was Jodi Powell. Jodi also directed the stories in the show along with Catherine Burns, with additional GrandSLAM coaching from Michelle Jalowski.
The rest of The Moth’s directorial staff includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Jenness, Jenifer Hixson and Meg Bowles. Production support from Emily Couch. Special shoutout to our Detroit SLAM producer, Patricia Wheeler. Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.
Our theme music is by the Drift. Other music in this hour from Blue Dot Sessions, Bill Frisell, Louie Zong, Amazing Grace, Eric Friedlander and Rat-Tat-Tat. You can find links to all the music we use at our website.
The Moth Radio Hour is produced by me, Jay Allison with Viki Merrick at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This hour was produced with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts.
The Moth Radio Hour is presented by the public radio exchange, prx.org. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else goes to our website, themoth.org.