Host: Kate Tellers

Kate: [00:00:03] Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm your host for this week, Kate Tellers. 

This week's episode is about parenting, a word that according to Merriam Webster, is a noun, but I would certainly argue is a verb. During the summer that I was 14, my parents were getting divorced. My Aunt Mary, who sensed that we could use a getaway, invited my dad, my sister and I to stay with her in her timeshare in Vermont. It was at the top of a mountain in the Trapp family lodge. Yes, of The Sound of Music. We drove for a half day from Pittsburgh and when we finally got to the base of the mountain, my father pulled the car over, locked eyes with me and then my sister and said, “Roll down your windows.”

Then he shoved the tape he had cued up into the deck and sang along with the voice of Julie Andrews. Dialed up to 11. [sings] The hills are alive, as we made our upward climb. For years, this was our go to dad is such a dad story. But now, that story reminds me of how hard my father was trying to keep his two girls happy during a really tough summer. To the exuberant dads everywhere, I see you and thank you. 

On that note, our first story this week is from Caroline Connolly. Caroline told this story at a StorySLAM in Boston, where theme of the night was Roads. Here's Caroline Connolly, live at The Moth.

[cheers and applause] 

Caroline: [00:01:34] So, the distance between my hometown of Newburyport, Massachusetts and New York city is about 250 miles. When you're 11 years old and strapped in the way backseat of a Volvo station wagon with your sisters, that is enough time to be assaulted by a sibling and to declare to your conservative Catholic parents that you no longer believe in God. [audience laughter] I honestly feel like that might be why Volvo made a way backseat, because it is in the literal trunk of a car and faces away from everybody else inside the car. It's like where a kidnapper might put a victim, except suburban moms were like, “Jump in. It's going to be so fun.” [audience laughter] Honestly, my parents had earned this right to do that to us.

On this particular occasion, my mom had sacrificed her birthday to take us all to see Lucy Lawless debut in Grease on Broadway. She was the actress who played Xena the Warrior Princess. My sisters and I were huge Xena fans and Grease fans. So, this was the greatest gift she could ever give us. The first part of the ride was relatively unremarkable. My mom would give us little fistfuls of Dramamine that to this day, she swears were non-drowsy. I'm not going to call my mother a liar or a drug dealer [audience laughter] on this stage, but we had some very foggy car rides as kids. [audience laughter] 

But this one was pretty clear, because about two hours into it, my dad is driving down the highway and he's looking for a McDonald's, so that he can get a large vanilla milkshake as he always liked to do. My mom says to him, "Hey, where are the tickets?" And he responds with this benign, "What tickets?" as if he has like no idea why we're all in the Volvo heading to New York City. And she's like, "The tickets." Well, no one had the tickets because this was 1997. Inexplicably, the only solution to this problem was to turn around and drive all the way back to Newburyport to get the tickets for the show that night. 

So, by the time we start our second trip to New York City, the Dramamine has started to wear off. It was as if three feral cats had come alive [audience laughter] in the backseat of my parents Volvo. So, my little sister suddenly bursts into tears, because she's starving. My older sister suddenly remembers that I exist. Apparently, my leg had shifted to her side of the way back seat, which was a crime punishable by a swift punch to the side of my head. 

Because I was smaller, but no less insane, [chuckles] my only recourse was to take her Nintendo Game Boy and hold it up and threaten to lick all of the buttons [audience laughter] on the surface, which is gross but super effective, because she let out this blood curdling scream, which prompted my mother to whip around and issue a threat that she loved to give us at this time in our lives, which was, "Girls, God is watching you." [audience laughter] 

Because I was in the way back seat and separated from my mom by an entire row, I turned around and I was like, "Well, good thing I don't believe in God." [audience laughter] Well, we pulled over really quickly after that [audience laughter] at a McDonald's. My dad jumps out of the car, because he had no interest in this portion of parenting. [audience laughter] And so, my mom comes around to the backseat where I was and it gets really close to my face and she says, "You better apologize for that, or I am telling Sister Ruth what you said." 

If you have ever been a kid sent to Catholic school, you know the threat of a sister is way worse than like whatever your mother or God could ever do to you. So, I was like, "I am so sorry. I love God and Jesus and everybody up there with Them." [audience laughter] Once that was settled, we went inside the McDonald's and we found my dad finally ordering his large vanilla milkshake. He gets us some Happy Meals and we all go out to the car and get back in. He places his shake down in the driver's seat and comes around to the back, very calmly, as he always is, says to us, "Look, could you guys please just get along for the remainder of this ride? It's your mother's birthday, after all." 

He gets back in the front and he sits down right on top [audience laughter] of that large vanilla milkshake, which causes this explosion of dairy on the steering wheel and the windshield and my mom. I was at an age where I knew what swear words were, but I had never heard one delivered super well just yet. And so, he dropped with force, a slew of expletives. I remember my sisters and I looked at each other like, “Did we just break dad?’ [audience laughter] 

And so, we drove the rest of the way in silence, because nobody wanted to cross him. We get to New York City, and we check into this fancy hotel my mom had booked, and we go see Lucy Lawless and she's amazing. We go back to the fancy hotel and it's actually a pretty fabulous night in New York City for our family. The next morning, we all pile into the Volvo again, and everybody is on their best behavior today.

The only thing my sisters and I were complaining about was that we thought the beds at the fancy hotel were itchy and we're scratching ourselves all morning. [audience aww] It would be a few hours and a couple hundred miles later before my mother realized we had all contracted lice at the hotel. You would think that after several freezing cold lice shampoo baths with a mom, and dad and these three girls, no one would want to take a road trip ever again. 

But we've actually got on dozens more and we still go on them today. My dad is in his 70s now, and he still demands a vanilla milkshake on the way there and on the way back. And for whatever reason, we are all still in a Volvo station wagon. [audience laughter] [chuckles] But truthfully, we would have it no other way. Thanks.

[cheers and applause]

Kate: [00:07:08] That was Caroline Connolly. Caroline Connolly is a reporter who lives and works in Boston. She enjoys horror films, as well as a good romantic comedy montage. When she's not telling stories, she loves to run and likes the idea of cooking. 

When we followed up with Caroline, she said, “Our last family trip was a visit to the Berkshires a few years ago. Even though my sisters and I are now adults living in different cities, our mom insisted we all drive together. I spent four hours in the backseat listening to my father snore, and my mother asked if any of us thought we would be married soon. We were, of course, in a Volvo station wagon.” To see some photos of Caroline and her family on their big trip to NYC, head to our website, themoth.org/extras. 

Okay, the jig is up. I said, this was a podcast themed on parenting. It's really a very niche podcast about my family obsession with Broadway as nurtured by my dad. Our next storyteller also made it to Broadway. Christopher Moncayo-Torres told this at a Moth StorySLAM in New York City, where theme of the night was Home. Here's Christopher, live at The Moth.

[cheers and applause] 

Christopher: [00:08:21] August 2004. I'm 19. I'm at the doorway of what's going to be my new bedroom, which I'm sharing with my dad, who I haven't seen since I was two. Left side of the bedroom is super clean. It's got a mattress that he stole from me. [audience laughter] On the right side is his side that's mostly Western Union receipts, ripped up, scratch off lottery cards, lots of movies all over the ground. But every night, he always watched the same movie. Not Terminator, not Die Hard, but Fiddler on the Roof. [audience laughter] I can't tell you why this Ecuadorian man loved Fiddler on the Roof, but he watched it every night, and he would ask me, his estranged son, "Come watch Fiddler on the Roof with me." And I was like, “No.” [audience laughter]

Besides the fact that it's like a three and a half hour or however many hours saga, I at that time just didn't feel comfortable being in this very small room. When I say small, you know, like the back of a U-Haul, like the tiny truck that you could probably afford, like small than that. So, I would usually be in the living room and I would actually sleep in the living room of this apartment. So, he was renting a room from this lady friend that he knew. It's actually not too far from here, like 39th Place and Queens Boulevard. So, a couple blocks away. I felt bad after just always saying no, that serendipitously in October, same year, Fiddler on the Roof was on Broadway. Alfred Molina was playing the lead, and I was like, “I'll surprise him. I'll get tickets.”

Now, here's the thing. I have a language barrier. Like, yes, father-son language barrier. But my Español is very muy malo, [audience laughter] if you catch my drift. So, I told Dad, "Hey, vamos a salir. Outside. Let's go. I have a little translation book that's not working for me. And he's just like, and whatever Spanish you're about to hear right now is very rehearsed, "No, mijo, quedamos en la casa. Just stay home. Let's watch Fiddler on the Roof. Fiddler on the Roof." And I'm like, "No, let's go. I'll pay for everything." He's like, “Great. Let’s go.” [audience laughter] 

The trip there, super anxious. My father likes to smoke in between the train carts of the 7 train. He also likes to stop. Not walk and talk. He likes to stop and tell you a story. Imagine doing that in Times Square. So, we finally get there, but we’re super late. But just enough to hear the opening song, Tradition, for those who know, that’s the big number and it gives the whole story of the town and this Jewish family. I look and I’m like, “Oh, man. He’s probably going to be super excited. He’s going to be moved. He’s going to be amazing.” 

He hasn’t been saying anything since we got in. I don’t really think he understood where we are. [imitates snoring] [audience laughter] Dead. He’s asleep. My little abandoned child, heartbroken. [audience laughter] I nudge him and he’s just like, [in Espanol] [audience laughter] Rest of the show, sleeping. He really woke up for If I Were a Rich Man. He loved that song. [audience laughter] 

There is this one song, I think maybe if anybody knows it, but Do You Love Me.

Husband’s asking the wife, “Do you love me?” And she’s just like, “You’re an idiot, more or less, because she’s been with him for twenty-some-odd years. Why are you going to ask me that question?” But he keeps asking. Alfred Molina, when he was doing this, he just took these really long beats in asking this question. And in one of those really long beats--

Mind you, we’re in the balcony, because that’s all I could afford on a CUNY tuition. It’s super quiet. And suddenly, I hear, “Do you love me?” My dad says the line. I was like, “Oh, that’s cool.” People around us started laughing. But in a really quiet theater, how everyone’s quiet right now like, “It’s really loud, and you laugh.” And so, Alfred Molina looked in our direction. [audience laughter] 

My father, who for me was the Latin Paul Bunyan of my life like, “Shrunk.” Molina just continued with the song. The show’s over. I will say this much, we did cry, both at that Far from the Home I Love, I think is one of those songs. So, we’re outside, he’s taking a photo with a big poster, Tevye’s arms are big up in the air. And then, I hear from the backstage door some ruckus. I turn around-- I’m new to Broadway. I didn’t grow up with theater, but I’m like, “Oh, I think people get signatures from these people.” I was like, “Dad, let’s go do this.” My dad’s just like, "No, mijo, mejor en la casa. Let’s go home." 

I was like, “Why?” And I figured, oh, maybe he's scared. Maybe he's embarrassed. So, I grab him by his sleeve, like he's my kid, and I'm like, "Hey, Mr. Molina, you know, we love your show. Right, Dad? My dad loves the movies. This is the first time he’s seeing this live.” My dad’s shaking his head. Molina is like, "Oh, that’s beautiful." And then, I recount what happened in the balcony. And he didn’t laugh. [audience laughter] He’s got big, thick eyebrows, so I feel like he just moved me with them. He just looks at my father, he’s like, "Is that true? Did you say my line?" And my dad’s shakes his head, yes.

He takes his huge arm, and he puts it on his shoulder, and he grabs my dad. Molina’s a tall dude. He’s like, "Good job. You made your Broadway debut. Congratulations. Way to go." And my dad’s like, "Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah," Grabs him, he’s like, "Toma una foto. Take a photo." And I’m like, "Okay, cool. Take the photo." We’re on our way home. My dad is enamored with this photo. He just keeps looking at it. I figure it out in my own interpretation like, “Oh, you’re this dude in this story.” This is the first time I had ever seen it. This immigrant man, far away from his family, and he's trying to hold it together. 

At this point, me and my dad are trying to figure out who we are to each other. I tell him all this. He doesn't understand a word of it, but he just says, "Mijo, good night. This was a good night." He goes in between the train carts. He's smoking another cigarette. He looks like the Fiddler on the Roof, because it's in the shadows, he's returning to Queensborough Plaza. And then, when we get home, that night was the first time I slept in the room with him, together. Thank you.

[cheers and applause] 

Kate: [00:14:25] That was Christopher Moncayo-Torres. Christopher is an Ecuadorian-American playwright, teaching artist and live storyteller, born and bred in Queens, New York. He first practiced creative writing while pretending to study for his forensic psychology degree. He's since founded Fail Better NYC, a BIPOC-centered artist community where he produces and hosts a monthly storytelling workshop show, Fail Better Storytime. We followed up with Christopher about his relationship with his father now. Here's Christopher.

Christopher: [00:14:57] I wish I could tell you the follow-up, is that we had more nights like that that we remained connected and I really wish we did. But it feels insincere and not what storytelling is for me, if I gave some sweet button at the end. You see, him and I haven't spoken in a year. The most I can say that feels like a realistic follow-up, is that my relationship with my father is in itself like a Fiddler on the Roof. At least, Tevye explains it. Fathers are hard. I figure sons are just as difficult. Relationships between estranged fathers and sons have felt like a pretty high roof to me. I'm not sure even till now if he and I know how to keep our balance, but we tried and now we've fallen off that roof. 

So, hearing from The Moth about my gesture of love from that night, especially when I've been thinking a lot about him these days, feels like a sign. I am very big on signs. I haven't been sure how to start the conversation with him after not talking with him for this long, but maybe I can present this gesture to him, repackaged, that our first story together is going to be shared with the world. Maybe that can help us try again to keep that balance.

Kate: [00:16:25] That was Christopher Moncayo-Torres. To see photos of Christopher, his father and Alfred Molina, go to themoth.org/extras. 

There is no one way to parent. There is no one way to show love to a parent. There is no one way to love anyone. In my family though, it often includes a singalong. It's September 2020, and for many of us, we're kicking off a school year, like we've never seen before. Are we crying? We're crying. This is hard. Parenting is hard. But we are learning a verb together.

[Kate’s children in the background]

Okay. All right, kiddos. We're going to say it, one, two, three. Can we say it together? 

Unison: [00:17:10] Have a story-worthy week. 

Kate: [00:17:13] Let's try again. [laughs] Ready? 

Unison: [00:17:16] Have a story-worthy week.

Julia: [00:17:22] That was Kate Tellers and her children. Kate Tellers is a storyteller, host and director of MothWorks at The Moth. Her story, But Also Bring Cheese, is featured in The Moth's All These Wonders: True Stories About Facing the Unknown. And her writing has appeared on McSweeney’s and The New Yorker.

Kate: [00:17:40] Podcast production by Julia Purcell. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.