Host: Jay Allison
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Jay: [00:00:14] This is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jay Allison. And in this episode, stories about finding the light at the end of the tunnel, bright futures in dark times and hope even when things seem hopeless.
Our first storyteller is Katya Duft. Katya told this story at one of our open-mic StorySLAM competitions in Los Angeles, where we partner with public radio station KCRW. Here's Katya, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Katya: [00:00:44] When I was 14 years old, my parents decided it was a great idea to get me out of school and move a million thousand miles away from the far east of Russia, close to Moscow, so I could go to a great college several years later. I didn't want any of this. I liked my school, I liked my skiing, I liked my rock climbing, my friends. So, when they just moved me to Moscow, I got very depressed. In addition to everything, once we moved, we had a little bit of savings, but they suddenly all disappeared because of a financial crisis.
So, when I came to my new school, not only we were poor, but also, I had no friends. It's all my fault. I was very grumpy about moving and I didn't want any friends. [audience laughter] But the first year in the new school was extremely miserable. So, for my 15th birthday, my dad told me, “I know what you'd like as a birthday present. Let's go camping with a bunch of other adults and kids. And this way, you can climb the tallest mountain in Europe.” Most girls for 15 years old, at 15, they want probably a dress or a pair of shoes. For me, it was an amazing idea, yes, I really want to climb the tallest mountain in Europe.
So, we go on this trip, which was not very well planned, honestly, because it was 10 parents and about 15 kids. We didn't bring enough food for all of us. [audience laughter] It was nonstop camping for a month. We lived in tents, bathing in rivers. And for the last two weeks of our trip, we completely ran out of food and we were in the mountains. So, we had to stop at different villages, asking highlanders for cheese and milk. [audience laughter] And that was our diet for about 10 days. We all lost about 10 pounds, I'd say [chuckles] and we were completely emaciated. But for my birthday, I said, “I'm still climbing that mountain.”
So, we spend the night in a wooden house, all of us, and they tell me, “Katya, the weather doesn't look very well. You know, they promised like a little bit of rain for tomorrow and maybe a little bit of a storm.” I say, “No, we are going. It's my birthday. I absolutely have to do it.” So, next morning, when I get out, I realize that there is no electricity because all the electric cables lay on the ground after a storm. My dad tells me, “Katya, you are not going. No, you're not doing this.” I say, “No, it's my birthday. I'm 15. My life has been crap for the last year. [audience laughter] I absolutely have to do it.”
So, when my dad turns away, I put all the equipment on this special metal shoes, and I bring a metal stick and I started climbing. Good thing, my dad got out of the house and he saw me on the horizon and he was like, “Oh, God, she decided to do it.” So, he starts chasing me with other adults. They grab me off the mountain, they bring me back to the house, they say, “|Katya, you don't want to die on your 15th birthday.” And that's when I started bawling and saying, “Oh, my life just sucks. It's been nonstop for years. It’s so bad. I'm so depressed. Why, why, why? Why did you take me away from my friends? You started this.”
And then, my dad looks at me, he says, “Katya, but you know what? This is the worst event of your life. You think then, after all, it can only get better. So, look forward to going back to Moscow, going to a new school and it will all be amazing from now on, I promise you.” Except when we get on the train and listen to the radio, the first thing we hear there is a coup d'etat in Moscow. It's 1991. It's the collapse of the Soviet Union. [audience laughter] The train trip takes 36 hours. And every minute of a trip, you listen to updates, and they say, “Oh, Gorbachev was arrested and taken away. Oh, now, there is a provisionary government. All the power is taken away.”
And the minute the train gets into Moscow, we see tanks on the streets, people with guns, explosions, black smoke everywhere. I look at my dad and I say, “Dad, you promised. [audience laughter] You promised. My birthday was the worst thing ever. What is going on?” So, when we come home and turn the TV on, they say, “Okay, coup d'etat was a failure, but Soviet Union has collapsed anyways. But it's not going to be that bad.” But for me, it was more than bad. Actually. I got so sick with flu. My temperature was like 103 or something. And for two weeks, I don't remember anything.
When I got out of this condition, I felt different. I felt like I was suddenly stronger or something, because to be honest, it's been, what now, 28 years since that happened. And no matter what happened in my life after that 1991 summer, nothing shocked me anymore. [audience laughter] I think that really made me as strong person as I am now. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jay: [00:05:52] That was Katya Duft. She is the author of the public transit blog, Tales from the Bus. She's a linguist, fluent in English, Russian and French, and works in subtitling and translating. She's a frequent participant in storytelling shows and contests in Los Angeles and is a Moth StorySLAM winner. Katya says, to this day, this remains the most challenging camping trip she's ever been on. To see a photo of Katya and her father shortly after their trip, visit themoth.org.
Up next, we have another Moth Slammer, Aditya Dakshinamourtay. Aditya told his story at the Bell House in New York City, where we're presented by public radio station WNYC. Live from Brooklyn, here's Aditya.
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Aditya: [00:06:52] Well, I'm not really proud of admitting this, but one of the biggest breakthroughs I've ever had in my life is to get an interview from the Greyhound of the skies, Spirit Airlines. [audience laughter] I'm not sure if any of you know, but getting a job as an international student here in the US is very hard. In fact, most companies have it in their policy not to hire internationals. I was painfully made aware of that in my first year here in the US as a student. Probably applied for over 100 jobs, zero callbacks. Every recruiter I spoke to would say, “Good resume, but we don't hire internationals.” But in hindsight, it's not really a surprise that Spirit Airlines is the first company to give me an interview, is it? [audience laughter] They probably tried hiring regular Americans here and they didn't want to work for them. [audience laughter] So, they're coming after desperate folk like me.
But that didn't matter to me. I came here not just to get a Master's, but also to get a job and then live and work here. So, I was ready for this. This is what I've been waiting for. They came through my university, which meant I had a head start over the others by default, because I was living up to my Asian student stereotype. I had a 4.0 GPA and I was the darling of my professors. So, they put in a very good word for me. The first round of interviews was on campus. I feel like I did that pretty well. Second round, they invited me down to their headquarters, when they're, again, feel like I did pretty well there.
Two nervous weeks go by, and then I get a call from the recruiter and she says, “Hey, thank you for coming down. We feel like you'd be a great addition to the team. We'd like to offer you the job.” And as she's saying that, I'm on this side going [onomatopoeia] [audience laughter] And then, I calm myself down and I say, “Oh, I'm so glad to hear that. I'm very excited.” And then, she tells me what the salary is going to be. And that was less than what they had advertised when they were coming to my university. I took issue with that, “Why is it less?” She said, “Okay. Give me a couple of days. Let me talk to the management.” She calls me back and she says, “Hey, I spoke to the VP. It turns out I don't think he's going to move.”
And I was like, I said the same thing, “But you said you were going to give more.” And it was a couple of seconds of silence, and she goes, “Okay, but are you still interested in the job?” I was like, “Are you kidding me? You're the only one to interview me. Let alone give me a job. Of course, I'm interested.” And then she says, “Okay, can I send you the offer letter?” Now, I wasn't really sure why she asked that, but in my mind, because I grew up India, nothing is official till it's on paper. So, I thought, this is her wanting to get everything that we spoke on paper. So, she sent me the email with the offer letter. I respond back with my counteroffer stating the exact same things.
And a few days go by. I think it was the long weekend or something. And the next Monday, I get again a call from them. This time, it was the recruiting or the hiring manager, and he says, “Hey, is this Aditya?” I was like, “Yeah.” And he says, “I just want to let you know that we're rescinding the job offer.” And I'm like, “Wait, what? What happened?” He said, “Well, we're taking back the job offer. We're going in a different direction.” I was like, “Because I asked for more money, it's okay. I'll take whatever gave earlier. I'm sorry. Don't do this.” And he's like, “No, it's too late. We're going in a different direction.”
I was actually sleeping when that call came, not really a good way to be [chuckles] woken up. And then, I was walking around my room yelling, “What the fuck happened? How did I screw this up?” I just couldn't understand. And then, I texted my professors immediately and said, “Okay, don't panic. We'll try to find out what happened.” The next day, went to one of their offices, and he said, “Well, it turns out you went back on your word.” I was like, “What do you mean?” “Well, it turns out you accepted the offer on the phone and then you renegotiated once you got the offer.” I tried to explain to him, “Well, that's because I'm in the culture and the country that I grew up in. Nothing spoken is official. Official things start only when things are on paper.”
And he had this sad look on his face, but he said, “You know, I'm sorry, I think this is it. Can't help you here.” I walked back slowly to my car. I remember I sat in that parking lot for about 45 minutes. My eyes were welling up and I felt like I have screwed up my best chance to get a job here. I don't know if I'll ever get that chance. And I was terrified. I just didn't know what to do. But that was only half of the problems or things in my mind at that time.
You see, in just that long weekend, I threw a party for all my friends because I had just gotten a job [audience laughter] at Spirit Airlines. I put it on social media, on Facebook, that, “Hey, everyone, all thousands of my friends all over the world, I'm going to be working for Spirit Airlines in Miami.” I didn't have Twitter at the time, otherwise I would have tweeted at Spirit Airlines as well. [audience laughter] I told my mom, I told my girlfriend, I told my dad. Everybody knew. I was thinking, man, this has messed up now. Now I got to walk all of it back and also try to find another job. This is going to be fun.
Things eventually worked out well for me. I went on to work for Southwest Airlines, [audience laughter] which is a much better company.
[cheers and applause]
This time, I did not negotiate past the phone. For those of you who thought I would have never negotiated, if you fuck up something the first time, next time you do it right, you don't not do it. [audience cheers and applause]
I waited one whole month till after I got the job to tell anyone [audience laughter] that I now got a job. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jay: [00:12:23] That was Aditya Dakshinamourtay. Aditya is an airline professional, storyteller and DJ. He grew up in South India before moving to the US for his Master's and currently calls New York City home. He has appeared in Moth StorySLAMs as well as many other storytelling shows throughout the US. We followed up with Aditya to find out more about his experience job hunting as an international student without a work visa.
Aditya: [00:12:52] There's always this, can they hire me question that goes into your head before, am I a good fit for this role? So, there's a lot of shot in the darks. And the first thing you tend to ask anyone is, do you sponsor for a visa? And most of the time, the answer is no and the conversation ends then and there. You have to probably try way more than you normally would. You cannot be picky at all, because you don't know who will sponsor and who won't. So, you might have to take a job that's not necessarily what you really want.
Emily: [00:13:35] So, are you still working with Southwest?
Aditya: [00:13:38] No. So, I actually had to leave Southwest and the US, because I couldn't get a visa. Then I left Southwest thinking, I will never come back to the US and it's all over. I took a job in a Middle Eastern country called Qatar, working for an airline there. And six months into my job there, they asked me to move back to the US completely out of coincidence. So, I ended up back in New York within the next year. That's what happened after.
Emily: [00:14:10] So where did this dream of like wanting to work for an airline come from? When did you start knowing that was what you wanted to do?
Aditya: [00:14:19] So, I'm an only child and I was-- You could call me a spoiled child when I was growing up, and that's not a bad characterization at all. So, for me to get a sense of the real world, my parents sent me one summer to live with my cousin. He was living in Bangalore at that time. It was close to an aviation manufacturing company in India. And while I was there, I would see fighter jets taking off and landing, and commercial aircrafts taking off and landing.
I grew up in a very small city in South India where you don't see airplanes often. Like, they are like mythical creatures. You see one and you just stop dead in your tracks. At least, I did every single time. I loved everything about them. They fly, they make a loud noise and they seemed not accessible, which is why I really wanted them. So, at that point, I decided I wanted a career that had to do something with airplanes, and that's what I did.
Jay: [00:15:28] That was Aditya Dakshinamourtay, speaking with Moth producer, Emily Couch. When we return, two more stories from our SLAM series about the things that inspire us to move forward.
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The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
This is The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jay Allison. And this episode is all about looking ahead to what promises to be a brighter future. Next up is Brenda Williams, who told this story at a New York SLAM, presented by WNYC. Here's Brenda.
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Brenda: [00:16:32] Hello, I'm Brenda. I'd like to share with you how worth came to be defined in my family by a set of pots and pans. We have to go back to when I was about three years old growing up in London. My parents emigrated from Jamaica to England before I was born. And there was never enough money, so my mom would go to Freddy the Butcher, and she would get these scraps and turn them into these really delicious savory stews and soups. And at that age, I thought it was some kind of sorcery, some kind of kitchen magic. Total mystery. It was around that time that the door-to-door salesman came calling. He came with these stainless-steel pots, lots of them, with every imaginable insert, broiling, steaming, everything, whatever.
Anyway, I don't know what it was about these pots, but they ignited in my mom some kind of fierce longing, enough that she entered an installment arrangement with this man that she could in no way afford. So, she struggled through it. I was about six years old when the box arrived. I had elder siblings who were not interested in a box, but I was. I remember my mom made me wash my hands. So, I washed my hands, and we opened the box, and we took out the pots one by one, and we oohed and aahed over their magnificence. I figured that the kitchen magic, at this point, would take on some kind of upgrade, but my mom had a different idea.
She took the pots, put them back in the box, and put them on top of the fridge, [audience laughter] and that's where they stayed. [audience laughter] I remember just every year, once or twice a year, I would beg, “Oh, mommy, mommy, can we look at the pots?” She would take them down [audience laughter] from the box, “Ooh, aah.” Back in the box, up on the fridge. I realize now that she felt the pots were too good to be used, or more specifically, too good for her to use. But I was little and I fretted. I thought the pots were lonely up there. I was really afraid that they would be sad that they weren't being used for their proper purpose.
Then I became a tween and a teenager, and I stopped thinking about them altogether. Until when I was 14, my family emigrated to America, New Jersey, land of all good things. [audience laughter] [audience applause]
Yeah, New Jersey. And so, my mom packed up all her precious things, including the pots and the box was dilapidated by then, so she got a new box. [audience laughter] They went on top of the fridge in our New Jersey apartment. At that point, I asked her, “Mom, you know, why don't you just use them? Just use them.” She gave me this little smug smile and she said, “Not just yet.” [audience laughter]. So, in the meantime, she trained to be a nurse in England, but could only get night work. And so, I took over making the family dinner, which was truly awful. We're talking tuna casserole, Hamburger helper, until eventually I learned some of her skills.
I also learned that the key to kitchen magic, it's in the hands that do the work, it's in the love that goes into the process and it's also in the imagination in terms of how you work the ingredients. So, remember, not just yet. That became a reality when, at 31, I married a highly educated man, and my mom gifted us the box of pots [audience laughter] on my wedding day. My highly educated groom, he looked askance at this pot. There were much more sophisticated brands, All-Clad, Le Creuset, whatever. Anyway, I felt that my pots would not feel welcome in my fancy new home, and so we didn't use them. Eventually, I did not feel welcome in that home.
It took 14 years of marriage before I got my divorce and I packed up my precious things, including my box of pots, which had been unused for 40 years. [audience laughter] I now use them every day. [audience cheers and applause]
Thank you. Thank you. I experiment with them, I bang about, I singe their bottoms [audience laughter] all the time. My friends and family, they sigh around my dining room table. They breathe in those savory scents, and they often eat much more than they plan to, which thrills me. I've adjusted my thinking. It's still the hands, and it's still the love and it's still the imagination. But for me, the kitchen magic is also those pots. [audience laughter] I am finally worthy as my mother always was, even if she didn't know it. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jay: [00:22:55] Brenda Williams is a writer and human resources executive who lives in Brooklyn. Many of her stories focus on Caribbean immigrants in New York and London. Brenda says that when her mother gave her the pot, she was thrilled to have that piece of her family history and thrilled that they would finally be put to use. Her mother has passed away, but not before knowing that Brenda was using the pots regularly. She's still using them, and she says her cooking continues to evolve.
Next up with a tale of finding hope is Alistair Bane. Alistair has told many stories of The Moth, from SLAMs to the Mainstage. And here's one from an open-mic StorySLAM we produced in Denver, where we partner with public radio station KUNC. A note that the story contains the use of a homosexual slur. Here's Alistair Bane, live at The Moth.
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Alistair: [00:23:59] When I was 13, I got my first horse. His name was Bo. He was a half an inch over pony class, a chestnut with anonymous breeding history. Not very well trained, a little bit mean and shaggy coated. But I didn't mind, because he was mine and I was willing to put the hours I knew it would take to train him in, because he was the one part of my life that didn't feel dark and dangerous.
At that point, my dad had dropped me off with my mom in a small town in central Illinois. She had enrolled me in a Catholic school, where I was the only native person in an otherwise white school. I felt different, but that wasn't the only reason. The kids had another name for the reason I was different. Words like fag, queer, it and freak. I heard that all day. The teachers told me, if I didn't act so weird, maybe I wouldn't get in trouble, being bullied. When I went home, although my mom's words weren't quite that crude, her cinnamon was the same. Everything I did, how I walked, how I talked seemed disappointing.
But every afternoon I would get to go to the stable, and saddle up Bo and go for a ride. I spent so much time grooming him and training him that within a few months, the first time we went into the dressage ring, he was flawless and we walked out with a long shiny satin blue ribbon in front of everyone who had thought that we were misfits. And for just that moment, everything felt good, like a story of redemption.
But over the course of the next few months, as I entered eighth grade, it seemed like the bullying got worse. And at home, I had decided it was time that I finally said it out loud to my mother. I came out, and her reaction was everything I feared it would be and more, worse. I could almost feel her disapproval through the walls in the house. And at that point, it seemed like even when I was at the stable with Bo, those rides that time I had with him weren't enough. There's this darkness that was encroaching on my very spirit. A voice inside me that said, “Maybe there was no place I would ever belong and no use going on.”
One Saturday morning, I found myself in the bathroom looking in the medicine cabinet and my mother's newly refilled prescription of tranquilizers, thinking that it would be so easy that night before bed to take them all. The kids would have no one to bully on Monday. My mother would have no one to say was embarrassing the family. I left them there, knowing they'd be there, and went out to the stable and I saddled up Bo. I decided that day I was going to do something good for him, something to make him happy, because even if I felt like I couldn't feel happiness anymore, he could.
So, I rode him down by the airport where there's a long dirt road. I take him down there and let him just run to his heart's content. As we got near, I could feel him getting excited. He knew what was coming next. As we turned the corner onto that road, I step in my stirrups like I was a jockey in the Kentucky Derby. I let him have his reins and he took off. I had heard someone say once, “If you're a true horseman, there comes a day when the communication between you and your horse ceases to be the tug of rein or the nudge of a knee, and you simply become one with that animal.”
And as he ran flat out down that road, I began to feel that happened. It was as if he and I could speak without any cues from myself. He ran faster and faster. And as we approached the end of the road, there's a dead-end sign. I didn't have to rein him in. He knew what to do. He slid to a stop, pivoted on his back legs and ran back the other direction. And as he did, it felt almost like that little horse's joy of being alive on a fall day, running full out under a crisp blue sky with the smell of the dried corn in the field next to us, came up through those reins and ran through my body like electricity. And so, that everything was suddenly quiet and clear and beautiful.
We reached the end of the road, and standing there was a woman outside our car. She stopped and was watching us. She smiled, waved at me and said, “You and that horse, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.” “Thank you,” I said. And that was enough. In my culture, we say horses have the ability to heal, and I know that that's true.
[cheers and applause]
Jay: [00:29:53] Alistair Andrew Bane is an Eastern Shawnee writer, storyteller and artist. His short stories have appeared in Alone Together: Love, Grief, and Comfort in the Time of COVID 19. Alistair's love of animals hasn't waned. These days he fosters dogs who are feral or who have experienced trauma. Alistair says, his dogs have taught him about resilience and that they seem to be able to let go of the past and live in the present.
After the break, two more stories of optimism against the odds.
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The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.
You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour. In this hour, we're hearing stories from people who have faith in the future, even when the present isn't always so promising. No stranger to working against the odds is Kathi Kinnear Hill, who took a difficult campaigning job in a place she felt unwelcome and unsafe. Kathi told this story at a Moth Mainstage in Jackson Hole, where were presented by The Center for the Arts. A quick caution, that this story includes the use of a toxic racial slur. Here's Kathi Kinnear Hill.
[cheers and applause]
Kathi: [00:31:39] It was Kansas City, Kansas, the year 2012. It was the reelection campaign for President Barack Obama. I was working it. One wonderful day, I walked into the office and, I'm not going to lie, I was thrilled to find out that were going to Skype with the president [audience laughter] He popped up on that screen and he gave us a pep talk, you know that Obama kind of pep talk. He thanked us for all of our hard work, and then he said, “Get out of Kansas. We're wasting our time. For those of you who could do this, take this campaign to Council Bluffs, Iowa. Take this campaign to Iowa. I'm asking you to please deliver Iowa to me, to us.” “Well, yeah, I'll do that.” [audience laughter]
I'd already worked his election campaign a few years before. When you're campaigning and volunteering, you have duties like putting signs, yard signs up and pamphlets here and there and having conversations, because the president always would say, “Just have conversations. Conversations after conversations, don't stop.” And also, we are registering the people to vote. I will never forget looking into the faces of my African-American elders. And they say to me, “I've never voted. I've never registered, but I'm registering now, because I have a reason.” So, not only do I have a personal reason to be working these campaigns, after reading a little bit about Senator Obama back in the day, I realized that he and I had a couple of things in common.
One, we are biracial in America and identified as black, and we grew up in an era of turmoil where we had to and determine who we were and where we were going. No one could help us and tell us that we had to go on that journey. Another thing we had in common and do have in common, is that we were raised by loving white families. So, I'm heading from the suburbs and cities of the Kansas City area to campaign in the cities and suburbs of Iowa. I got in my little Honda every weekend for about a year, and drove four hours there and four hours back and did the same types of things. Hundreds and hundreds of phone calls, knocking on doors and registering people to vote.
And towards the end of that campaign in 2012, I got a phone call and I was asked to be a canvas captain, which is basically just taking a leadership role and doing the same duties that I'd already been doing. But they asked me to do this in rural Iowa. [audience laughter] So, being that committed person that I am, I said yes. I dropped off me, a middle-aged African-American woman and another campaign worker, a little bit older African-American woman in rural farmland, Iowa.
So, we walked into this little teeny campaign office and we got our little clipboards and our pens and all of our papers and put our little buttons on our little Obama hat and we're going to go register people to vote. So, we did and we walked out of that door. Rita, my partner in campaigning, is one of the strongest and most amazing women I've ever met, a retired school teacher. So, I looked up to her, and I looked over at her and I said, “You know, we don't. Are we going to. We're going to do this right?” [audience laughter] And she said, “I am fired up and ready to go. Aren't you? I'm fired up and ready to go. Let's go.” And I said, “Well, then, “Yes, I'm fired up and ready to go too.”
So, we're walking down the farm road, and our first stop was a trailer park. As we’re approaching the gate to open it, we looked up and there was a man, a big old man with a big old rifle. And before we could open that gate, he looked at us and he said, “I didn't vote for your nigger last time and I ain't voting for your nigger this time. Now, you girls better turn around and get--” And we did. Again, I looked at Rita and said, “You know, we don't have to do this.” And she said, “Oh, I'm more fired up and ready to go. Let's go.” So, we did.
We knocked on doors and we knocked on doors and we rang doorbells. Nobody on that day was ever that horrible to us. We had people, of course, closing the door in our faces, just saying, “No, thank you.” And then, of course, you've got the ones that you knock on their door and you can see the curtain open and then close. And we're like, “Yes, we know you're there.” But we didn't stop us. We kept walking and we kept having conversations.
And then, we get to a farm and we're walking down this long gravel driveway. And approaching us is the farmer who owns that land. He looks at us and he says, “No, I see what you're selling and I'm not buying.” I remembered our president asking us to have conversations. And I said, “Could we just have a minute?” And before he could answer, his wife opened the front door and she said, “Ladies, if you're going to be at my house, you better come in here, supper's on the table.” And we were scared and hungry. [audience laughter]
But I'm thinking, in the back of my mind, I'm thinking, “but do I really want.” It was a get out moment. “Do I really want to go into this home, farmhouse, in the middle of nowhere? I don't know these people.” And then, the door closes. But before my thought was finished, Rita says, “Yes, ma' am, we are hungry.” [audience laughter] So, we went in and we sat down. Oh, that food, I could make you drool if I went into detail about it. It was meatloaf that was melting in our mouths, mashed potatoes and gravy greens, cornbread and sweet tea. It was soul food.
Our conversations with Cecil and Wilma, it was a beautiful time. We talked about a lot of things. They asked us a few questions about the campaign and we talked a little bit about that. But mostly, we asked them questions about their lives. And they told us about their kids and their grandchildren. They literally breathed for those grandbabies. They lived for those grandbabies. And then, they told us about the church down the way where they got married. Before we knew it, it was time to go.
So, we head to the front door, we thank them for this lovely meal. And Wilma gives us a hug and hands us some food to go. As we're walking back down that gravel drive, Cecil is walking with us to get us to the road. When we get to the road, he takes both of our hands, “Rita and Kathi, thank you. Thank you for coming in and sharing this time with us. And thank you for talking to us. But most of all, thank you for listening to us. Now, I probably won't vote for your guy.” We waved, and turned around and walked away. And a few steps up, we hear this. “But hey, Kathi, I just might.” Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jay: [00:42:32] Kathi Kinnear Hill grew up in Portland, having been adopted as a baby into a white family in the early 1960s. Her dad was a professor at Lewis & Clark College, and her mom taught at Martin Luther King Jr. School, where Kathi is an instructional assistant to a class of kindergarteners. Kathi and her husband, Dennis, have two children and recently became grandparents. To see photos of Kathi working for the Obama campaign, visit themoth.org.
Our final story this hour is from Jason Schommer. Jason told this story at a SLAM in Saint Paul, Minnesota.
[applause]
Jason: [00:43:16] Standing in a sea of organic produce consisting of pineapples, cucumbers and strawberries, I saw her standing in a wide brimmed hat, a cardigan that was tan and white over a summery outfit and flat shoes. Our eyes met. We smiled. I knew and she knew that I knew.
Now, the fact that I'm at Ralphs Grocery in North Hollywood is surreal at best. A week earlier, I had been offered a job to work behind the scenes on a TV show. So, I quit my job, threw everything I owned into a storage unit and drove cross country. Once there, after working a few days, I was notified that there was going to be some production changes and it wasn't going to work out. Scheduling issues. Yeah. No grand, you're fired, no scandalous story. Nothing. Just scheduling issues.
So, I had come to Ralphs Grocery to emotionally eat. [audience laughter] And the moment I saw her, I was immediately whisked away to a snowy mountaintop. It was Carnie Wilson from Wilson Phillips. [audience laughter] Oh, my God. Are you kidding me? Carnie freaking Wilson? Now, if you don't know who Carnie Wilson is, let me tell you, she is one third of the power trio Wilson Phillips, [audience laughter] who in 1990 gave the world the number one anthem for anyone, for anyone who was teetering and on the brink of giving up to just hold on. [audience laughter]
Now, I love pop culture. I'm a pop culture fanatic. So, I immediately recognizing the magnitude of this, knew I needed to follow Carnie Wilson. [audience laughter] So, I did. And it was awkward. She got pork chops. I bought pork chops. I'm a vegetarian. [audience laughter] She bought flowers. I bought flowers. I'm allergic. She was in feminine hygiene products. I'm a boy. [audience laughter] So, I ducked around the aisle to text my friend, Jen, to let her know of this moment.
Now, Jen is a massive Wilson Phillips fan. She actually was in negotiations with their management to have them perform at her graduation. I sent her a text, “Oh, my God. I’m at Ralphs Grocery in North Hollywood, and I just saw Carnie Wilson.” [audience laughter] And that's when Carnie Wilson walked right past me and mouthed, “Hello.” She didn't say it. She just mouthed. [audience laughter] Now, if you are a famous singer or an actor and you talk in public, people recognize your voice. She couldn't say hello, she just had to mouth it. [audience laughter] Because then five people aisles over would have come running over screaming, “Sing, sing, sing.” And she would've been like, “No, I'm just here to buy yogurt.” [audience laughter]
“Sing.” And she would have felt pressured, and she just would want to go home. She's not even wearing makeup. They would have been demanding it. And so, then she would have started singing an acapella version of her number one hit, Hold on. And then, people would have cracked out their phones to record it and put it on YouTube in hopes of it going viral. And then, people would have started screaming and losing their minds. And then, TMZ would have shown up and it would have been a debacle. Don't ask me how I know these things. I just do. [audience laughter] So, she mouthed.
After following her around the store and acquiring a cart of stuff I don't want or need, they came to checked out. She was two aisles over, and I watched them scan every item out of her cart. I was trying to time it perfectly, so we could have a moment, her and I, as we left the store. But I had the slowest cashier in the world. She had the fastest. [audience laughter] She walked past the end of my aisle, she turned around, looked at me and said, “Goodbye.” [audience laughter] I died. It was just like their song, Hold on. Some day somebody's gonna make you want to turn around and say goodbye. [audience laughter] I, Jason Schommer, from Little Falls, Minnesota, made Carnie Wilson turn around and say goodbye. [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause]
She got into the elevator to go down to the parking garage. As the doors started to close, I thought, do it. Just reach out and yell, “Hold on.” [audience laughter] But I didn't. I'm respectful. [audience laughter] So, here we are, chasing our dreams, doing what we want to do. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't. We'll go through horrible things in life. We'll fall in love, we'll get divorced. We'll have successes and failures. We'll fall flat on our face. Sometimes we'll pick ourselves up, sometimes we won't.
Sometimes what unites us all is the fact that we just find that little kernel of hope. Sometimes we find it in a prayer or a mantra or a text from a loved one, just that one little thing that we cling onto. And sometimes it's seeing a celebrity in a grocery store that sang one of your favorite songs in three-part harmony, [audience laughter] that gives you the hope to hold on for one more day, [audience laughter] because things will go your way. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
[Hold On playing in the background]
Jay: [00:49:03] Jason Schommer is a stand-up comedian and storyteller who spent two years as the opening act for comedian Louie Anderson in Las Vegas and continues to tour with Louie regularly. Jason has worked in New York City for the Rosie o' Donnell show and behind the scenes in Hollywood on the television series, Basket.
So, that's it for this episode. We hope these stories offer you some comfort and hope. Hope that things can get better even when it feels like they won't. Please join us next time for The Moth Radio Hour.
[overture music]
Larry Rosen directed the stories in this show, with additional coaching from Jenifer Hixson. The rest of The Moth directorial staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Jenness and Meg Bowles. Production support from Emily Couch.
Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.
Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour from Nigel Kennedy and The Kroke Band, Soulive, Michael Hedges, Blue Dot Sessions and Wilson Phillips. 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. Special thanks to our friends at Audacy, including executive producer Leah Reis-Dennis. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.