Host: Jenifer Hixson
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Jenifer: [00:00:12] From PRX, this is The Moth Radio Hour. I am Jenifer Hixson.
In this Hour, we are sharing stories about situations where things are not as they seem. From purposeful deception to just coming to terms with who you are versus who you thought you were.
We found our first storyteller, Phill Branch, at our StorySLAM in Washington D.C. Here is a story he developed for a show in Boston, where we partnered with Public Radio Station WGBH. Here is Phill Branch.
[applause]
Phill: [00:00:44] So, my senior year in high school, I am your average all-American teenage boy interested in average all-American teenage boy things, like having a cool car and taking a hot date to the prom and designing my date’s prom dress. [audience laughter] My senior year, I am 5’6”, 129 pounds. This might be surprising, but I could not catch and or dribble a ball of any sort. So, the fact that I had a date at all was a miracle. My girlfriend’s name was Dana, and she was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen. We were together most of senior year. As we got closer to senior prom, we began planning. When I say we began planning, what I really mean is that I began to sketch what we were going to wear to the prom. [audience laughter]
Prom was a big deal in my family. My parents went to the prom together, and several of my aunts and uncles went to the prom together and all those pictures were up on the family wall. I knew it was my turn and nothing could go wrong. One day, I was at home watching music videos, and there is this artist named Christopher Williams, who was really popular at the time. He was this tall, gorgeous man with this great curly hair. It was this music video called Promises, Promises. He is wearing this white Nehru collar suit and he just looks so regal and strong. I look up at him with my 129-pound self and say, "I am going to look like that for prom." So, I begin sketching this suit.
Now, I am not going to completely rip off Christopher’s style, because you cannot steal another artist’s work. But I am going to design a suit that looks like his, but it has my flare. So, it is all white, but the sleeves have this satin material that has a paisley design to it, I use that same material for the trim that is going to go down the pant leg and to cover the buttons that are going to go all the way down from my neck down. You are judging. [audience laughter] Just something simple. [audience laughter] And for my date, I combed through all the hottest fashion publications of the time to decide what her look would be. I am in the Sears catalog and Spiegel, JCPenney’s. [audience laughter]
I finally decide that she is going to wear this mermaid dress. It is going to have some of the material from my suit, because my suit was the base. [audience laughter] She would have this pink lace overlay at the top, and it would be great. So, I could not actually draw or sew. [audience laughter] So, I gave her these sketches and said, “Go find someone who can make this.” And then, I took my scribble to my seamstress/my friend’s mother, [audience laughter] and said, “Do you think you can make this?” And she said, “Sure, give me about a week or so and I can put it together once you give me all the fabric and the things you want.” And I said, “Great.” So, the plan was in motion.
So, I had no idea that asking my date to accept my design for her senior prom dress was going to be problematic. [audience laughter] And Dana was not into it at all. So, she broke up with me. [audience aww]
Now, I was not necessarily in the closet at 16, because I was not conscious, per se, that I was gay. But apparently, I was so gay [audience laughter] that I was not aware that designing my date’s prom dress and a white suit with a pink shimmer that when it hit the light, was essentially my coming out quinceañera. [audience laughter] So, for that whole school year where Dana was my girlfriend, it felt great to just be one of the guys and to feel like I had the things that other guys had and I could have this future, and maybe I can get married and have this life. It was a really powerful feeling, because I had not had that feeling before.
When she left, it was equally powerful, because it affirmed all the feelings that were starting to brew up in me, that I was indeed broken and I was hurting. But I had about 50 yards of satin [audience laughter] and somebody had to wear it. [audience laughter] So, I just asked a freshman who I knew would go, and things just moved along. And the day before the prom, I go pick up my suit from my friend’s mother/seamstress, and I take it home and I put it on. And for the first time, I realized that you might need to be able to draw if you are going to design a suit. It did not quite work. All the colors and the materials, and then one sleeve was shorter than the other. [audience laughter] The pant legs were not even. The trim was crooked.
My mom is downstairs waiting for me to come down, so she can see this suit. So, I go downstairs in the suit. She does her best not to laugh in my face. [audience laughter] But after a few moments, she just runs off in her room and just lays down on the bed and cries real tears. [audience laughter] So, the suit did not work. But the next morning, I say, “Well, maybe if I get the curly hair, it will balance it out.”
Now, at the time, I had what was called a Gumby cut. It was sort of like Bobby Brown-ish. It was up and to the side, and I was really proud of it. I rip out a picture of Christopher Williams from a teen magazine and I take it down to a salon in my neighborhood that I had never been in. Because I was not a lady. I take it inside and I say to the stylist, “Can you make me look like this?”
Now, anyone with eyes that functioned [audience laughter] should have said, “Absolutely not.” [audience laughter] But she said, “Sure.” So, [chuckles] I sit down and she begins to work her magic. She puts the cream in, and she is doing all this stuff and I am just sitting there. At first, I am really excited, but then I start to feel like someone has poured acid on my head. [audience laughter] I am confused why everyone is still singing music to the radio and reading old Ebony magazines when I am clearly dying in this salon chair.
And just before I scream, the stylist runs over and rinses my scalp. It feels so good. She turns me around to the mirror. I don’t look like Christopher Williams. [audience laughter] I look like Sade. [audience laughter] My hair is bone straight and I am freaking out. And she goes, "Calm down. We are not done." I said, "Okay." She turns me back around, and she starts putting more things in my hair and trying to do something. And then, she turns me back to the mirror, and she was right. I did not look like Sade anymore. I looked like Salt-N-Pepa. [audience laughter] I had this curly bob and it was awful. I was about to cry. She tried a few more things, and nothing was working. And then, she looks at me and says, "This one is on the house." [audience laughter]
Do you know how bad your hair has to be [audience laughter] for a stylist not to take your money? So, I just get up and I walk back down the street singing Push It. [audience laughter] I go to the barbershop where I should have been in the first place. He does a little something, makes me presentable enough, and I go home and put on my crooked suit. I take the freshman to the prom, and we have a good enough time.
A few weeks later, the prom proofs come back. The pictures. My date looks great. Props to me. [audience laughter] And I look insane. [audience laughter] So, [chuckles] the pictures were not ordered, and they were not given out to family, like we normally would do for people at prom time. And worse, I did not make it to that wall. I had failed at being normal again. And it was disappointing.
Years later, I am in college. It is my senior year, and I hear from Dana again. We had not talked since high school, really. We started to reconnect, and it felt good to hear her voice. I started to wonder if maybe we could still have something. But by this point, I knew I was gay, because there had been clues. [audience laughter] But I still invite her down to Virginia to visit with me and go to my senior ball in college. And she agrees.
So, she comes down and we get all dolled up in clothes that I did not design, [audience laughter] and we go to the ball and have an amazing time. And for a fleeting moment, I wonder, "Could this be my life?" But I am not 16 anymore, and I know that I do not love her in that way and I knew that I had to let her go and let that life go, or that idea go, and that was really rough. But on the upside, the pictures were amazing. [audience laughter]
[[cheers and applause]
And I had the right hair and the right suit and the right date. And that picture made it up to the family wall with my parents and all my aunts and uncles. I am smiling in that picture. But the truth is, I am terrified in that moment, because it was the first time that I had told myself the truth. I was not certain what I was walking into after that night. I am scared to death. We often talk about coming out to other people, but the truth is, you have to come out to yourself first.
So, after all this goes down, I realized that it was okay for me to be me. As it turns out, I ended up with all the things that I thought that I was not going to have when I became my true self. I have a wonderful husband, and a home and two amazing kids that I love. It is a beautiful life.
[applause]
But as it turns out, that picture of my life now has not made it to the family wall either. [audience aww] But that's okay, because I have my own walls now and I can hang any damn thing that I want.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:12:39] That was Phill Branch. He is a husband and father of two. And he is also a film and media scholar, a college professor and a documentary filmmaker. You may have seen Searching for Shaniqua, his documentary about the impact names have on our lives.
Now, about that prom picture, at the time of this recording, Phill was not able to locate the official version. Remember, his family did not order it. But he was able to dig up one, where if you look hard, you can make out his white slip-on loafers and light pink hose. You can see the picture at themoth.org. While you are there, you can also download the story and any of the others you hear this Hour.
Next up, trying to find a lap lane at the public swimming pool, school, and a kid from Kentucky gets a job working just two blocks from the White House, when The Moth Radio Hour returns.
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Jay: [00:14:02] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
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Jenifer: [00:15:13] This is The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I am Jenifer Hixson.
We are sharing stories of misconceptions, some accidental and some, as in the case of this next story, completely purposeful. We first met our next storyteller, Raabia Wazir, when we did a show at a media arts and education center in Appalachia called Appalshop.
[cheers and applause]
Live from Whitesburg, Kentucky, here is Raabia Wazir.
Raabia: [00:15:40] Having a name like Raabia in eastern Kentucky means I get asked where I am from an awful lot. And not just a simple, "Hey, where you from?" but the slow, drawn-out, skin-squinty-eyed version, "Where are you from?" [audience laughter] And if I am not feeling particularly generous, I say I am from West Virginia. But if I am feeling generous, I say that I was born and raised in Charleston, but my dad is from a small mountain village in rural Pakistan, the tribal area. My mom is a coal miner’s daughter, a little white lady from Mount Hope. So, basically, I am hillbilly on both sides. [audience laughter]
In college, I coined the term Pakalachian. [audience laughter] I made a Facebook group for it too, using a selfie as the profile picture. It did not take off. It was a very niche audience. But I loved growing up in West Virginia. But there was always this sense that you had to leave as soon as you turned 18, get to a big coastal city, go to college. If you could not get there, then just crossing the border to Pittsburgh or Athens or Blacksburg would be good enough, right?
To stay was to accept mediocrity. It was almost like the Ohio River was this natural demarcator between shame and glory. That is probably why I was so pleased with myself when I finally got my first big girl job out of college. I was the national outreach coordinator for a Muslim American civil liberties organization in Washington, D.C. I loved how it looked on paper. I immediately updated my résumé.
When friends or family would ask me what I was up to, I would say, "Oh, I am the national outreach coordinator for a Muslim American organization in Washington, D.C." [audience laughter] So professional and glamorous. But in truth, the job was a lot harder than it looked. Being a Muslim activist in D.C. during the Bush years did not exactly open doors. I was stuffing envelopes. I was making fundraising phone calls. I was managing the internship department.
When there was a candlelight vigil, I was the girl hitting up the craft stores trying to find candles. When a windstorm hit that night, I was the person on my hands and knees desperately trying to relight the candles. When there was a dove release ceremony, I was the person that was somehow supposed to find the doves. [audience laughter]
But working there was a really awesome experience. It was a super diverse office. People from all over the country from different perspectives and backgrounds. We had Muslims and non-Muslims. We had immigrants and converts. We had hijabis and non-hijabis. We were all working for this really noble idea of embracing civil rights and encouraging civic engagement. It really felt like we were doing something good.
But after about a year with the organization, I started to feel burnout, which is pretty common in the nonprofit world. I ended up taking some time off to try to figure out what my next step was. So, it is October 2009. At this point, I am basically living in bed with my laptop. [chuckles] I am on the internet. I am looking at a feminist blog, just looking for something to get riled up about, right? [audience laughter]
I see our organization mentioned. And I am like, “Oh great, that is awesome. Let us see what they are saying.” But I start reading, and it says the Congressional Anti-Terrorism Caucus has accused our organization of planting spies on Capitol Hill, which it sounds bad, but we are always getting accused of being terrorists. No big deal. But I keep reading. It says that a man, those allegations are based on a statement by a man who infiltrated the organization in 2008, which was when I was there as an intern. This was one of my guys. And so, my heart immediately starts pounding, adrenaline starts pumping, like, “Who is this person?” So, I google his name. And immediately up pops a picture of one of our interns. It was not just any intern. It was my intern from my department.
So, this is a white guy. He is from southwestern Virginia. He always seemed really mild mannered and hardworking, even though he was not particularly bright. But he said that he was a convert to Islam. I had offered to introduce him to my mom. So, the article says that not only is he making these statements, but he is putting out a book published by WorldNetDaily. If you do not know, WorldNetDaily is the same website that said Obama was a secretly gay Muslim [chuckles] terrorist who was building FEMA concentration camps. Like, that is the level of journalistic integrity that we are dealing with here. So, I am freaking out, [chuckles] because if there is a book, that means there are crazies reading the book and the harassment is going to start, right? It is happening.
So, I call my family and friends. I lock down social media. I start checking the doors and windows, double checking, triple checking at night. Almost immediately, it hits national news. Fox News starts promoting the book. The crazy thing is that the big reveal, these spies on Capitol Hill, was referencing a program to help Muslim students get internships on the Hill, which is perfectly normal. Everybody does that in D.C. But because we are Muslims and doing it, it was suddenly nefarious and scary. And thankfully, we had a lot of big-name, journalists and politicians that stood up for us. My parents, by the way, thought it was hilarious. [audience laughter] They were like, "If you have enemies like these, you are really somebody." They bought two copies of the book. [audience laughter] "Don’t give them money."
I still felt so stupid. Like, all these weird behaviors that I did not catch or just dismissed suddenly made sense. He was wearing a body camera and constantly filming us. Somebody else had mentioned, "Oh, he really loves shredding documents," which was a really boring task [audience laughter] assigned to the interns. I was like, “Okay. He is not that bright. He just needs some time to turn off his brain.” It did not occur to me that he was just taking boxes of paper and putting them in his car. I felt so exposed and scared. I could not get his face out of my head. I remember going into just ordinary public spaces and starting to feel uneasy.
Working with a Muslim American organization, it hardened me to the idea that these right-wing crazies thought I was part of a global terrorist network. But I figured if they just got to know me and got to know all of us, they would understand how silly that is. We are just ordinary people. But this guy knew me and he still thought I was the enemy. So, I was really struggling to try to just minimize this stuff and move on. But that’s the trouble with this kind of crime. Because you do not want to allow these people to have any kind of emotional sway over you. Because if they do, they win. But to ignore the harm they have caused is to let them off the hook. I had already been considering going to law school, but now being a lawyer felt like some kind of armor. I had two choices in front of me. I could stay in D.C. and study international law or I could go back home.
My friends were completely baffled. Like, I had just been attacked by the right-wing fringe. Why would I go back to one of the reddest parts of the country? But for me, it was not a matter of red states or blue states. It was this continued faith that if people knew me and I could make connections, I could make a difference. In Kentucky and West Virginia, I was part of these beautiful and intimate communities and I had deep and long-lasting relationships. There is strength and power in that.
As a kid, I thought that in order to succeed, I had to leave. But it became increasingly apparent that in order to become the person I wanted to be and do the work I was called to do, I had to go home. That spring, I submitted my application to the University of Kentucky, and I decided to continue to have faith in people. But I still shred my own documents. [audience laughter]
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:25:23] That was Raabia Wazir. These days, she works for the Appalachian Citizens Law Center, representing coal miners seeking federal black lung benefits. She says the term Pakalachian, still has not quite caught on. And as for the book, suffice it to say, it is out of print.
Our next storyteller, Jean le Bec, is a tried-and-true New Yorker, born and raised in Brooklyn. We met her at a StorySLAM in Manhattan, where we partner with Public Radio Station WNYC. Here is Jean.
[cheers and applause]
Jean: [00:26:13] I am walking up Lee Avenue in Brooklyn. It is a really cold, windy day. But still, Lee Avenue is crowded and it is busy. Men wearing large fur hats and black coats to their ankles. They walk in groups, holding prayer books. Eyes down as I pass them, they ignore me. Women wearing turbans or hats placed carefully on coiffed wigs, black coats, mid-calf beige stockings and flat shoes. They walk very, very quickly, pushing baby carriages. A trail of five or six kids running to keep up with them. All dressed exactly alike.
Shops line both sides of Lee Avenue. In the two years that I have lived in this Hasidic community of East Williamsburg, I have never shopped in these stores. Not even the bakery with the smell of sweet bread baking, and the black and white cookies in the window. I feel like a foreigner here. I am Jewish, but I do not feel a connection here. The language is Yiddish. I walk past words I do not understand and signs I cannot read.
I am on my way to the Metropolitan Recreation Center on Bedford Avenue. It is an all-woman swim this morning, and I am really excited, looking forward to it. I have made a promise to myself that even though it is really cold out, today is the day I start my exercise routine. And a woman swim is the best. [audience laughter] I walk into the locker room. It is empty. I quickly squeeze. I have to squeeze, because I gained a lot of weight, into my black Speedo bathing suit, stuff myself in. I pull on my pink Speedo bathing cap, pink and green goggles on my head. I take a quick shower. I am ready.
I open the door to the pool. There are women everywhere. They are walking around the pool. They are sitting on the edge of the pool. They are laughing and they are talking. They are in the pool, wall to wall in the pool, floating and singing and bobbing. There are women with arms extended, floating pregnant women back and forth. Suddenly, there are no lanes. Nobody is in lanes. They are not wearing bathing suits. They are wearing turbans and they are wearing dresses zipped to their collarbone, down to their knees. I am so naked in my black Speedo bathing suit with my pink cap. So, I think, I could be invisible. I could be invisible. I am just going to scurry over to this little corner that I saw and slip myself in. And so, I slip myself in. I am hovering there, thinking what to do, what to do. Lap swimming is out of the question. [audience laughter]
I will just be invisible. Maybe I will hoist myself out. Hoist seems too hard. [audience laughter] There is a woman swimming right towards me. She is coming. I am like, “Don’t come to me, don’t come to me.” [audience laughter] She comes to me and she goes, “Hi, I am Lily.” She has the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. I say, “I am Jean.” She says, "Welcome. This is your first time." I go, "Yeah." She takes me in. She takes in my goggles and my hat. She looks just, "You want to swim? You want a lap swim?" I go, "Yeah." She goes, "Well, swim. You can swim. Yeah, right?" I look out at all these women in the pool like, "Really?" She goes, "Yes. You go. Just go. [audience laughter] We're going to let you swim. Go, bubla, go." [audience laughter] So, I went and I swam.
All these women, they got out of my way with their dresses billowing like parachutes in the water. And then, I did another lap and another lap. Each time, these women got out of my way. And so, finally, I did 15 laps and I stopped. Lily made her way towards me, and she said, "How was your swim?" And I said, "It was wonderful." She said, "You must come back." And I said, "I wasn't going to come. It was so cold." And she goes, "Oh." She holds out her arms, and I go, "No. No" She goes, "Come, come, come." So, I'm laying on her arms. [audience laughter] At first, I'm really, really stiff, and then I just relax. And she goes, "See how warm the water is? And look."
And I look. For the first time, I see this skylight that covered the entire length of the pool. And she says, "See, the light always comes in." And later, in the locker room, I catch the eye of a woman across from me and we both start laughing. I think I wonder if she was one of the women that kept swimming out of my way. I really wanted to talk to her. I know she really wanted to talk to me, but I don't speak Yiddish and she doesn't speak English. But she pointed to herself and she said, "Tova." I pointed to myself and I said, "Jean."
And then, as we're leaving the locker room, she found me. She grabbed my hand and mustering up all her courage. I just could see her mustering up all the courage to say the only English words she knew to me. She looked at me and she said, "Jean, if you see something, say something." [audience laughter] And I said, "Tova.” “Yes?” “If you see something, say something." [audience laughter] I knew. I knew. I knew that I wasn't going to take the train home, that I was going to walk back down Lee Avenue, and I was going to go into the bakery, and I was going to buy some black and white cookies. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:32:20] That was Jean Le Bec. Jean was an educator in the New York City school system, grades K through 6 for 31 years, and then an assistant principal for 4. She said that after that first visit to the pool, she didn't have the same feeling of alienation. She continued to swim, and it changed her relationship with the community and ultimately, with the neighborhood. She made friends and started shopping on Lee Avenue. She even found a favorite restaurant for Anash after a swim.
When we return, a woman thinks she sees a dancing sheep in Ireland, and a man visits Lower Manhattan on September 12th, 2001, in search of his brother.
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Jay: [00:33:26] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by the Public Radio Exchange. prx.org.
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Jenifer: [00:34:39] You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jenifer Hixson.
This Hour, stories involving second looks. This next story comes to us from Dublin, where we held a moth GrandSLAM story competition in 2015. Michael Devlin took the prize for this tale. He talks pretty fast, but please keep up with him. Here's Michael.
[cheers and applause]
Michael: [00:35:03] So, there I was, driving down the N11 with my female companion. I don't know if you know the N11, but it's the main road between Dublin and Wexford. There are two landmarks on that motorway, both of which are pubs. One is called the Beehive and the other is called Jack Whites. We're fast approaching the Beehive when all of a sudden, my female companion bursts into laughter, spontaneous, uncontrollable laughter. I know I'm not the funniest man in the world, but I do have my moments where that certainly wasn't one of them, because I wasn't even talking. [audience laughter]
So, eventually, when she composed herself, I said, “Come on, share the joke.” She pointed to a field we just passed, and she said, "See that field? In that field we just passed, there was a sheep dancing." [audience laughter] And I said, "A dancing sheep? Really?" I said, "Was it ballroom or contemporary? Because contemporary would be a bit unusual." [audience laughter] And she said, "No, no, really. There was a sheep dancing. He was lying on his back with his feet in the air and he was waving them back and forth as if he was some mad rave or disco or something." And I said, "Yeah." I said, "You know what that means? Because I heard it somewhere before."
I said, "That means he is in grave danger. Or, more precisely, she is in grave danger." Because what happens is at lambing season, the female sheep they use, they get big and heavy and sometimes when they lay down, they can inadvertently flip over and they're in grave danger, because they can't eat. But also, they get very distressed and they're prone to predators, particularly foxes. As I'm explaining this, there's a voice in my head saying, "Do not get involved. Keep on driving. [audience laughter] This is your problem."
But then, I know that's not possible because there's another side of my personality which is intent on saving the world and everybody in it. [audience laughter] And it's telling me to turn that car and turn it around now. So, I go as far as the Beehive and I turn around and then I drive 10 km in the wrong direction, trying to cross the motorway. So, I cross the motorway, I'm on the way back here and then the first problem presents itself, which is to say that I'm looking for a sheep in the field of sheep in County Wicklow. [audience laughter] There's sheep everywhere. I don't mean to cause offence when I say this, but to me, one sheep looks pretty much the same as the next. [audience laughter]
So, I'm driving along, core crawling for about 10 minutes, and I stop the car and we get to the field. It's true enough, there's the sheep in the field, but this time his feet are totally rigid like this and I think, “Oh, my God, please don't tell me I'm too late.” So, I stop the car, jam on the brakes, get out, hit the hazards and look out. I'm surveying the situation and I'm not liking this. I'm not liking this one bit, because I'm a city boy and what we have in our hands is most definitely a rural situation. [audience laughter]
[applause]
So, I turn to my female companion and I motioned to her to stay at the car. I said, “This could be dangerous. But baby, I'm going in.” [audience laughter] So, I hop over the brash barrier, over the barbed wire fence, down an embankment, over two electric fences. As I'm doing this, the sheep in the field start to walk away in the distance, except for the uptorn sheep and his little sheep buddies. I'm so amazed and impressed by this, because sheep are timid and placid little creatures. Here they are, they've overcome their fear to stand by the fallen comrade. I think, this is amazing. These must be like the sheep equivalent of the Marines, you know? [audience laughter] No man gets left behind. But as I'm thinking that, they got buggered off too. So, that was that theory out the window. [audience laughter]
So, I'm moving closer. It's just me and the upturned sheep lying there with his feet in the air. I got to tell you, you really don't know what thoughts are going to go to your mind until you're faced with this sheep spread eagle before you. [audience laughter] The first thought in my mind was, “Please, God, don't let anybody see this, because it just looks so wrong.” [audience laughter] The second thought is, is this thing going to attack me? Because I know you never hear of anybody being attacked and killed by a sheep. It's not up there with like grizzly bear attacks and shark attacks. I get that. But this thing is cornered, and I've never cornered a sheep before, so I don't know, [audience laughter] I was cornered. They do have teeth, not big, sharp canine teeth, but teeth nonetheless.
] The sheep are scared, and I'm scared and it's debatable as to which was more frightened. So, I'm thinking in the interest of my safety and the sheep's dignity, I should stay away from either end. [audience laughter] I go around and I take a deep breath and I bend down and I grab two handfuls of wool and then I lift with all my weight. And the sheep, which turns out to be about 98% wool, flips up and he lands on his feet. [audience laughter] I'm standing there and I feel this, like, this power, this strength, as if I'm like some superman, some superhuman and I'm thinking, “Maybe I should wear my underpants on the outside of my trousers from that day forth, [audience laughter] or maybe get a cloak with an S in the back to indicate my newfound superhero status.”
But yes, we'd have to be made out of wool, because after all, I'd only save the sheep. As I'm thinking this, the sheep is walking in the distance and then it stops and turns to face me. As we look into each other's eyes, I feel it. I feel the connection. Because we both know that I've just saved this life. And then, we turn away and we walk way back to our previous existence. She to take her place in our flock and me to take my place in the human race. I don't look back. I can't look back, because I know she's walking out of my life. [audience laughter] I know things will never be the same again, because this may be just one small sheep for mankind, but it was one giant sheep for me.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:40:49] That was Michael Devlin, patron saint of sheep. He's a husband and father of two who loves swimming in the sea and studying Gaelic. When I first talked to Michael, I thought for sure he must be a comedian or something, but he isn't. He actually works in shipping. So, he's one of those hilarious co-workers you come across in life who make the day fly by. Every office should have one.
If there is a hilarious person in your life, please convince them to pitch us at The Moth. We all need to laugh and it's your duty to help facilitate. Do not hog your funny person all to yourself. Your witty co-worker, aunt, neighbor, mail carrier, dog walker needs your encouragement. Have them leave a pitch right on our website, themoth.org, or they can give us a call at 877-799-M-O-T-H. That's 877-799-6684. We listen to them all and we look forward to laughing.
And now, a caution that our next story is quite serious. Jim Giaccone gives tours at the 9/11 Memorial Museum. Moth Director Larry Rosen took one of his tours and chatted with him afterwards.
[cheers and applause]
Jim shared a personal story and Larry said that story needs to be told at The Moth. Eventually, it happened at a New York City GrandSLAM. Here's Jim Giaccone.
Jim: [00:41:26] Some of the experts on TV were saying that the way that the Twin Towers were constructed and the manner in which they collapsed, there was bound to be voids. And inside, those voids was a potential to find survivors. My family and I hung on those words. My older brother, Joe, Joseph Michael Giaccone, had an office on the 103rd floor of the North Tower, and he had gone to work early that Tuesday morning, and he was missing and we were going out of our minds. I immediately tried to gain access, but was turned away again and again, because ultimately too many people were volunteering. It would become too chaotic.
After a couple of days, a buddy of mine called. He was a firefighter up in Harlem, and he told me to meet him at his firehouse. I dressed in his bunker gear and me, him and another firefighter drove on our way down to Ground Zero. When we got down below Canal Street, we started encountering checkpoints, either military or police personnel with automatic weapons. But once they saw we were all dressed as firefighters, they waved us right through.
We parked all the way on the east side. The guy that drove was afraid that we would be blocked in by more emergency vehicles and we walked blocks and blocks west. We were about a block away from the start of the debris field when-- I used to think of myself as somebody who could handle pretty much anything thrown at me. I thought I had prepared myself for what I was walking into. But I became sick.
After I regained my composure, we walked into the pile. There were no words, there were no pictures, there is no way to accurately describe what I saw, what I heard, what I smelled. I have no rescue and recovery training whatsoever. But I saw no voids. It was apocalyptic. My buddy said he wanted to try and meet up with the other guys from his firehouse that were working on the west side of the pile. We were all the way on the east.
We found the best way to go around was, we went down a side street in the side door of an adjacent building, and we went into either the cellar or the sub cellars, because all the main floors were damaged. The buildings were all pretty much city blocks long. So, we walked the distance of the building underground, and we came up on the other staircase across the street and down again and again. Multiple times I saw written on the walls these pleas, usually from firefighters begging for any information for one of their friends who was still missing. Sometimes written in soot with their fingers.
We ultimately came out at the base of the atrium of the Wintergarden building. The Wintergarden building was an iconic, beautiful atrium, and it was completely destroyed. We climbed out onto the pile and we worked on the bucket brigade. Later on, my friend said, “Let’s go back to the firehouse.” I'm pretty sure he picked up on the fact that I was completely and totally defeated. We had become separated from the guy that drove us, and there was no transportation. But a cop offered to give us a ride as far as Midtown. [sobs] Before I got in the car, I called my dad and I told him I was sorry. And I said, “No way Joe is coming home.”
The cop dropped us off on 42nd Street, and I don’t remember what avenue. In fact, I remember stepping up onto the sidewalk to try to get my bearings. A couple walked in front of me with a young boy. I noticed the man did a double take when he spotted me. He stopped and he turned and he stood in front of me, and he started to extend his hand. And even before I could shake his hand, he fell forward and hugged me. He started to cry, and he said, “I'm sorry for the loss of your brothers.” [sobs]
He thought I was a firefighter. It’s amazing to me when you realize how many thoughts can fire off in your brain in the blink of an eye, in a fraction of a second. In that millisecond, I understood that that man needed to cry. In that millisecond, I felt horrible, horrible guilt. In that same millisecond, I reasoned it was okay, because he used the word brother. Thank you very much.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:48:12] That was Jim Giaccone. He lives in Long Island with his wife and two dogs and has three grown children. I called Jim while he was driving between jobs. He’s a plumber. I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to share about the story. At Moth GrandSLAM, storytellers only have five minutes. So, he had to make a lot of choices about what to include.
Jim: [00:48:33] I do remember some things that emotionally stood out to me regarding that day. I think even work it into the story and it was-- I don't know, I wouldn't even know where to put it. But I do remember when I went into the firehouse, before I changed into his bunker gear, it like my eight-year-old Jimmy's dream to be a firefighter and here I was sitting in the firehouse putting on this gear. I was almost like a Superman's outfit and I felt, I guess being raised Roman Catholic. I'm born with guilt, but I felt horrible guilt also for feeling anything but shock and grief. I was embarrassed of myself for feeling anything exciting, because I was putting on this uniform, I was transforming myself into a firefighter. It just was on a small level, but I distinctly remember that.
Jenifer: [00:49:47] What intense. Were you and your brother close as little kids? What's your age difference?
Jim: [00:49:53] Well, no, there was three years between us. We were not particularly close, especially in our teen years. In fact, fist fights, I remember. But when we became adults and especially when we started families, we became very close. I guess we matured into each other and we respected each other as adults. And our families, our kids became extremely close and they are still to this day. So, we were really close. As little kids, yeah, as brothers. Yeah. But as we got into adolescence and teenage years, we were not close. And then we did become close. Thank God.
Jenifer [00:50:43] That was Jim Giaccone talking about his brother, Joseph Michael Giaccone. Jim's been a mentor at Tuesday's Children for the past 13 years and a mentor for two brothers who lost their father on 9/11. As I mentioned, he leads tours around the 9/11 Memorial and Museum.
That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time.
[overture music]
Jay: [00:51:31] Your host this Hour was Jenifer Hixson. Jenifer also directed the stories in the show along with Larry Rosen. The rest of The Moth's directorial staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Jenness and Meg Bowles. Production support from Emily Couch and Julia Purcell.
Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this Hour from Boombox, Blue Dot Sessions, Warm Body, The Klezmatics, The Bothy Band and Todd Sickafoose. 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, go to our website, themoth.org.