Host: Sarah Austin Jenness
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Sarah: [00:00:12] From PRX, this is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Sarah Austin Jenness. In this episode, facing the next stories of moving forward.
I've always appreciated that H. G. Wells quote, “Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative.” Basically, you must change. We cannot go back. We can only move forward. And in the journey through the muck, maybe you'll find a story.
We start with a woman who's mourning her youth. And just to note, it's a very funny story about the downward travel of parts of her own body.
Elizabeth Gray shared this at an open-mic StorySLAM in Melbourne, Australia, where we partner with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, ABC RN. Here's Elizabeth, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Elizabeth: [00:01:05] So, this story begins six years ago when I was 38 years old. It was a beautiful morning, because nana had stayed over, which meant that I got to sleep in. So, because I was well rested, I actually wanted to spend time with my children. And so, I thought what I would do is I would go out while they're sitting at the kitchen table and I'd jump up and I'd go, “Rah.”
So, got out of bed, put my dressing gown on, strapped it on nice and tight, crept out to the dining table and I leapt in the air. As I leapt in the air, my breasts, which were joyous and free of any constraints, [audience laughter] leapt with me. And then, when I landed, they landed a second behind and they made this enormous clap sound as they hit my torso.
My kids didn't seem to notice. And if nana noticed, she didn't say anything. [audience laughter] But I crept back to the bedroom and I sat down in shock as this sound just echoed around my brain, [audience laughter] because this thunderous clap was the death knell of my youth. [audience laughter] For the first time in my life, I actually thought, maybe I should get some plastic surgery. Maybe I should get a breast reduction.
Over the years, age and gravity had affected my breasts. And not only that, but there'd been 15 years of fluctuating weight and I'd breastfed two children. And in addition to that, my left breast is actually two sizes larger than my right. So, when I'm naked, kind of look a bit like a Picasso painting. [audience laughter] But I worked out that if I stand with my left arm straight up [audience laughter] and my right arm 90 degrees away from my body to the right, everything evens out and takes 10 years off my breasts. [audience laughter] But it's a little bit hard to feel sexy when you look like you're doing some kinky semaphore thing going on.
So, being a good Virgo, I made a list of pros and cons. And the pros were better self-image, more confidence and being able to buy a normal sports bra as opposed to a sports bra which was designed by NASA and cost about $150. But there are quite a lot of cons, quite a lot more cons. And some of those were I'm terrible with pain, I'm a terrible patient, I don't have a big disposable income and I have quite an addictive personality. So, I was looking a couple of years into the future, thinking that I would look great, nice and shiny and plastic, but be completely destitute, like, I don't know, dumpster diving Barbie, complete with her own shopping trolley. So, I thought, well, I'll talk to my husband about it, see if he can help me with the decision.
Now, my husband loves my breasts and he loves my body. The only negative thing he said about my body, is that there's too many clothes covering it. So, I sat him down and I said, honey, I think I want to get a breast reduction. He was quiet for a moment and he said, “You know, I love you just the way you are. But if this is really important to you, then I will support you 100%.” Yeah. Even though I wasn't any closer to a decision, I felt better about everything. I went away and made us a cup of tea, and I came back to find him in the bedroom weeping quietly into one of my double D cup bras. [audience laughter]
So, anyway, for the next three years, I oscillated between, should I get it done, should I get surgery, should I not? On the one hand, it was like, “I will not succumb to this advertiser's cult of youth.” And then, on the other side, I was like, “But think of all the gorgeous bras we could wear.” [audience laughter]
And then, one day, my whole life just went to crap. I rode off my car, my husband was involved in a terrible workplace accident and this trip to Canada that we'd been planning for ages was at risk of being cancelled. And then, I found a lump on my right breast. So, I went to the doctor, who referred me to a specialist, and then she wanted me to get some tests and a mammogram.
So, I had my mammogram done by this little Scottish round lady. If you've never had a mammogram before, what you do is you put your breast on a square plate and you snuggle up to this machine, which is something like out of Doctor Who, and then they lower a Perspex plate down onto your breast and they keep lowering it until there's tears in your eyes and your breast is as flat as a pancake.
So, right one done, onto the left one, get it up onto the plate and she goes, “Oh, goodness me, I'll have to get the bigger plate out for that one.” [audience laughter] If that wasn't bad enough, she changed the plates, rest on the plate and she goes, “Oh, it goes right underneath your armpit, doesn't it, lovely? I'll just pull that around for you, shall I?” And right then, I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. But after about eight weeks of getting prodded, and poked, and humiliated and squashed, I finally got my results. And the results were negative, which were amazing.
I got out of the specialist. I just cried, and I cried and I cried. It's true that you don't realize how much you love something until there's a risk that it's going to be taken away. So, I realized that day that I actually love my breasts in all their saggy, lumpy, uneven glory. And God willing, both my breasts and I are going to age disgracefully right to the end.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:07:52] Elizabeth Gray lives with her husband, two sons and two cats, and has just taken up micro macrame as her new isolation hobby. Elizabeth works for a small women's health organization, and she actually shared a written copy of this story with her team. She says, her favorite response was from a colleague who read the story, strode up to Elizabeth's desk and announced that she had decided to stop dyeing her hair and let her silver shine through. Elizabeth's story convinced her to be brave and embrace the gray.
We met our next storyteller, Neema Avashia, at The Moth Teacher Institute. Every year, The Moth hosts a week of storytelling workshops for 5th to 12th grade educators from around the country, and they share best practices for using personal stories in the classroom. Neema has been a civics teacher in Boston for years, and she applied for this Moth opportunity to join her writing life, and her teaching life and to inspire her students to tell their own stories. At the end of the week-long workshop, we record the stories from these educators. So, live from The Moth Teachers Institute, here's Neema Avashia.
[cheers and applause]
Neema: [00:09:10] So, last November, on a Friday, two of my former students, Chris and Nami, came back to visit. And in general, that's not weird. Kids know Fridays are open office hours, come back, check in with Miss Avashia. But this Friday was different. They weren't just coming back to chit chat or do homework, they were coming back to grieve. I didn't really know how I was going to do that with them.
That was weird for me, because I'm a civics teacher, and that means I spend my whole year teaching kids about their rights, and how government works and how to be an engaged citizen. They see me as this demystifier. And so, even after they graduate, I get texts, “I just got stopped by the cops. What do I need to do?” Or, “My mom's trying to go get her citizenship. What should I do?” That's our relationship. I'm used to knowing the answers, or if I don't know the answer, I know how to get it. But earlier in that week, we had all discovered that their former classmate and my former student, Angel, had been killed in gun violence in our neighborhood.
Angel was this goofy, funny kid. He loved everybody in his class. He made funny faces and told corny jokes. He baked me a fruitcake the day before Christmas, which-- who bakes fruitcakes anymore? [audience laughter] He was not that you ever think any kid is going to end up in that situation, but it just would have never occurred to me that that was going to be the situation. We were all reeling, and he was the fourth former student who had died for me in a year.
And so, they were coming back. I felt this pressure of like I'm supposed to take them through this, but I'm not through this. I don't know how to do this. For the first hour, it didn't matter. They were sobbing, and my shirt was soaked and that's what we did for about an hour. But they're also adolescent boys, and humor is their go to cope. And so, after about an hour, it went from crying to telling stories and then to telling funny stories. They started to tell me about how, at the end of their eighth-grade year, they had this plot to spray paint the principal's car.
This particular principle only lasted a year. He was kind of a dictator. He liked to pick fights. He would suspend kids for wearing a hood. Kids didn't like him, teachers didn't like him and they wanted revenge. So, Angel decided to go buy some spray paint. But he bought black spray paint and the principal's car was black, [audience laughter] so this plan was not going to work. And Nami, at that point in the story, and I didn't know this story until then, opens his bag, and he pulls out the can of spray paint. And he's like, “I've been carrying this around all week. I don't know what to do.” And I say, I think I know what we should do. I think we need to go tag something. [audience laughter]
You should know that I'm not just a civics teacher during the day, I'm like a civics geek at night. In Boston, we have an app called Boss311 where you can report things like, “There's a downed tree. Come, fix it.” [audience laughter] Or “There's a dead squirrel on the road. Come, remove it.” I am obsessed with this app, and I report things all the time and I read other people's reports. [audience laughter] Kids know this about me. They know I don't drive more than five miles above the speed limit. I've never used any controlled substance or any uncontrolled substance. I just am pretty square. They know this.
And so, Chris, who's generally very quiet, is like, “What? You're suggesting that we go do something illegal right now?” He was like, “I don't think I understand. You're our civics teacher. You're not supposed to do this.” What they didn't know, is that for the previous eight months, I had been trying to meet with city leaders, with the superintendent, with street workers, with anyone I could get to listen to the fact that in Boston last year, 16 young people under the age of 19 were killed. It was a massive spike. More than a quarter of the homicides in the city were kids. And of that, four were mine.
I was doing all of this advocacy, and it wasn't doing anything and it also wasn't helping me. I didn't come away feeling better. And then, there was this spray can, and I was like, “Well, nothing else has worked. [audience laughter] Being a civics teacher and using those strategies hasn't accomplished anything. So, here's a spray can, and maybe we should use it.”
So, it was dark. We'd been talking for several hours. We went behind the school, and there was a concrete Jersey barrier that the cops had put out to prevent people from doing illicit things behind the school. We were about to do an illicit thing. [audience laughter] We basically took turns tagging the barrier. And in Boston, I don't know if this is true in other places, when young people are killed, their friends in the community create a hashtag. So, we tagged #angelsworld on the barrier, and we put our flashlights out on our phones, and we lit it up, and we got a broken desk, and we turned it into a tripod and we took pictures of ourselves.
Chris was like, “Angel would fucking love this.” And he was like, “Oh, sorry, Avashia, I forgot that you were my teacher for a second.” And I said, no, you're totally right. Angel would have fucking loved this. And in that moment, that hierarchy between teacher and student, it just flattened. We were just mourning, and we were trying to figure out how to connect with Angel and how to connect with each other.
So, we took our pictures, some with me in them, some without me in them. And as we walked to my car, so I could drive them home, I said, you better not post the pictures with me in them on the internet. That shit could get me fired. [audience laughter] Because at the end of the day, I'm still their civics teacher. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:15:02] That was Neema Avashia. Neema has worked as a civics teacher in the Boston public schools for more than 17 years. When she's not teaching, she writes personal essays, makes tons of pickles and salsa, and spends time with her partner, Laura, who is also a middle school teacher. Angel's graffiti is still up. When his younger cousin was a student at Neema's school, she says sometimes at dismissal, they'd walk over together to pay the graffiti a visit and share a memory of Angel.
During the pandemic, Neema thought that school closures offered some freedom from the teacher-student hierarchy. On Zoom calls with students, they saw each other's homes, families and bad haircuts. And everyone was much more honest about the support they needed. She says, flattening the teacher student hierarchy was actually one of the most powerful shifts in education that happened during the pandemic. To see a photo of Angel and his classmates with Neema, go to themoth.org.
After our break, two stories where moving on requires a little help from a friend, when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
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Jay: [00:16:26] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Sarah: [00:16:36] This is The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Sarah Austin Jenness. The stories in this hour are about turning the page and moving on. And sometimes to do that, you need a nudge or an energetic push from another person.
This next story from Maxie Jones takes place when he's a teenager, right after his mother dies. Maxie told this story at an open-mic SLAM In Detroit, where we partner with public radio station, WDET. Here's Maxie, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Maxie: [00:17:11] In February of 1978, I started the second semester of the 10th grade. That was on February 1st. On February 2nd, which would have been my second day of my second semester of the 10th grade, when I woke up to go to school, my mother didn't wake up that morning. Now, that following week, I missed school, of course, while we laid my mother to rest. When I came back to school about a week or two later, it was quite different for me.
I remember that when I came back to school, I really didn't care much to be there at all. And it was a new semester, and my teachers didn't really know me very well. I had this one English teacher. His name is Mr. Goldberg. And Mr. Goldberg would ask the class a question, and he would call on people. When he called on me, he would say, “Maxie, do you know the answer?” He pretty much wake me up from wherever my mind would be. I would say, what? Excuse me? What was that? He would ask me the question again, and I would always have the correct answer.
So, one day, he asked me to meet him after class. I met him after class, and he said, “I don't understand what's going on.” He said, “You always seem lost. You're always someplace else during the class, but you know all the answers. You did all your homework.” I just explained to him what was going on. I told him that the reason I came to school every day was because my mother made me come to school, and now my mother's not here to make me come to school, and I don't really feel the need to be here anymore.
So, he said, “Well, just do me a favor.” He said, “Well, there are eight periods in a day. A teacher teaches five periods in a day, and there are three prep periods.” Usually, the teacher will use one of those prep periods for lunch and his other prep period, Mr. Goldberg said, “I want you to meet me in my office sixth period.” And so, I met him in the office sixth period, just to talk. And then, he said, “Meet me tomorrow, sixth period.”
This went on and on. Every single day, he had me meet him sixth period during his prep period. I would help him grade papers, and we would talk and we would do whatever. When open school night came, I didn't have anyone to come with me. My mother always came with me to open school night. When open school night came, my sister, who had just graduated from that same school, came with me to open school night. My social studies teacher wouldn't talk to her. He said, “I know who you are. You just graduated from the school.” So, he thought we was trying to play some kind of game or something.
So, when the teacher wouldn't talk to her, Mr. Goldberg was standing outside the room, and he came in and he said, “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Talk to her.” And he said, “I'll explain later.” So, the teacher talked to my sister, and told her about how I was doing in school and so on. And then, Mr. Goldberg, what he did after that was he went around to all my classes and talked to all my teachers and told them what was going on. He told them all, he said, “If you have any issue with Maxie Jones, come to me.” And so, that's what he did. And so, it went that way for the whole semester. Every day I met him at sixth period, and he checked on my classes and all that stuff.
What ended up happening was that the next year, when I was a junior, he did the same thing. He had meet him every single day, and we talked and he talked to all my teachers about whatever was going on with me and he let them know, “Listen, if you got any problem with Maxie Jones, come and talk to me.” I didn't really realize that by the time I graduated from high school, I never missed a single day of school. Sorry. At my high school graduation, Mr. Goldberg was there. I asked him, I said, hey, Mr. Goldberg. How you doing? He said, “This feels funny.” He said, “I don't come to graduations.” And I said, why? He said, “Because I teach seniors.” No, he said, “Because I teach 10th graders.” And he said, “I don't teach seniors, so I never come to the graduation.” So, I said, well, why are you here? And he said, “Because I wouldn't miss seeing you graduate for anything in the world.” [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause]
I didn't realize then what he had done. It took me years before I finally realized that I graduated from high school with honors, and I was in the top 85 percentile of my class. I had a Regent scholarship, and a full ride to college and all that stuff. The truth is, I was really always academically capable of that. But it's one of those situations where all I really needed to do was to show up for it.
At 15 years old, having lost my mother, not really seeing the value of an education, I was really in line to be a statistic, a high school dropout. Who knows what would have came of it. But the thing is, I showed up to school every single day, and I realized that the reason I showed up there was somebody there who was expecting to see me, and that was Mr. Goldberg. Thank you very much.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:22:55] That was Maxie Jones. Maxie lives in Michigan, right outside of Detroit. He says, “Storytelling has actually become his favorite pastime.” And that during the pandemic, he missed The Moth stage tremendously. The quarantine was put in place right after he told his 99th story with The Moth.
Maxie graduated from high school more than 40 years ago, and Mr. Goldberg has never been more than a phone call away. To see a photo of the lovely message that Mr. Goldberg wrote in Maxie's high school yearbook, go to themoth.org.
Next up, a story from Jennifer Birmingham, from one of our New York StorySLAM’s, where we partner with public radio station, WNYC. Here's Jennifer, live at The Moth.
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Jennifer: [00:23:55] Okay. So, I was married twice in rapid succession. Six weeks after my husband moved out, I looked up an old boyfriend, and we immediately started dating. A couple years after that, we were married. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to marry the recycled rebound guy, but I did because I didn't want to fail again. And more importantly, because I had a baby boy with my second husband, I stayed longer than I should.
I stayed through the lies, and the affairs, and him losing his job and refusing to ever get another one. I stayed through two years of marriage counseling. Just when I thought I couldn't take another day, our counselor asked for a solo session. She asked me to come in. She said, “Hey, I can see you're pretty ready for a divorce, but I'm not sure you are. You need to be able to accept three things before you really are ready, and here they are. One, you may lose your child.” And she said, “In your case, it would probably only be 50%, but you have to be ready to give him up. Two, you are the moneyed spouse, so you better be ready to pay child support for someone to take your child from you. And three, you may never find love again.”
Yeah. These are really stark things to hear, but they're real. I mean, divorce is messy, and you honestly don't know what's going to happen. I wasn't ready to move forward with those three things. So, I went back to the marriage for a couple more years until it was completely untenable, and I was willing to pay pretty much any price to get out. And so, I got out. Happily, I got 100% custody of my son. [audience cheers and applause]
And because of that, taking out a second job to pay child support was a moot point. But the question of whether I was going to find love again, I decided to let that linger. I did not want another rebound relationship, and so I declared a six-month sabbatical from dating, and I did. At the end of six months, I declared another 12 months sabbatical from dating. [audience laughter] And to make sure I lived up to that commitment, I decided to get orthodontics. Not the subtle Invisalign that most sane adults sign up for.
I got braces, because I knew for me, there was no better reminder that I wasn't ready to date than having [audience laughter] sharp metal objects cemented to my teeth. [audience laughter] And it worked. I stayed out a full 18 months. But eventually, life calls me back and I decided I had to try to get back out there. I signed up for all the usual suspects. I found myself on my first date in a really long time. He was a great first date. He was perfectly benign. He was absolutely [audience laughter] not my type, but terrifically nice. We had drinks, and we had dinner and I was like, “Whew, did it. Now, I can go back into hiding.”
We walked outside and I hailed a cab. And just as the cab pulled up, the guy leaned in and kissed me. This undid me, because I wasn't ready. I wasn't really sure I wanted to go back out there. I jumped into the cab and I pleaded with the driver to drive. I was like, “Drive, drive, drive, drive.” But he didn't move. He just sat there chuckling in the front seat. He told me that he had witnessed the kiss, and it looked really good. [audience laughter]
I stuck my head in that little window between the driver and the passenger, and I was like, “No, it was not good. It was terrible. It was awkward. And this is my first date in 15 years and it was just too much.” My driver introduced himself as Pablo, and told me that he himself has been on a sabbatical from dating. And yet, he had a lot of dating advice to dispense, [audience laughter] and oh, he dispensed.
Pablo told me all his theories on dating as he drove me home from the Upper West Side to Harlem. And then, when we got to my building, he pulled over and he turned off the meter and we talked for another 45 minutes. We did, all the while holding hands between that little window. [audience laughter] I wish I could tell you, this is the night that I fell in love with Pablo, the wise man. [audience laughter] Pablo the wise man of the New York City taxi fleet. It wasn't, but it really did feel like that the universe had put Pablo in my path to tell me a few things that made it easier to move forward.
After I got out of the cab and ran upstairs, and I wrote down as much as I could and three of the things I memorized to heart and I carry them with me. There are three things that are a lot easier to take. One, Pablo told me, “Don't ever judge a date by the first kiss. Good ones will turn bad, bad ones will turn good. Only time will tell. Two, the only thing that matters is that two people can really talk. Everything else can get worked out. And three, at any given moment, God is going to smite you off the face of this earth.” [audience laughter] Pablo said, “So, get out there. Life is short. Get out there, full tilt.”
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:29:52] That was Jennifer Birmingham. Jennifer lives in New York City and is mom to Nikile, Aiden and Miles. I asked for her dating and love updates, and she said, “I did find love again. It was temporary, but it put to rest any lingering fear I had that therapist may have been right about that never happening again. These days, I'm running full tilt at other loves, my kids, my work and hobbies like photography, writing and traveling. My hope is that in pursuing one of these passions, I'll meet the love of my life.” To see photos of Jennifer and her three children, go to themoth.org.
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In some cases, the simple act of crafting and telling a story is a way to move forward. The Moth produces over 600 events each year, and the stories are all told by people like you. Yes, you. Do you have any stories of moving on or really any personal story that matters to you, we'd love to hear it. You can record your pitch right on our site or call 877-799-MOTH. That's 877-799-6684. The best pitches are developed for Moth shows all around the world.
Jeff: [00:31:23] I was a mama's boy. When I was in kindergarten, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She fought for five years, when I was in fifth grade and I was there holding her hand when it happened. The next day, they took me away to a friend's house and they took her away too. Overnight, her room was transformed, and there wasn't much left besides this pot I had painted for Mother's Day and a note that she had written when the day I was baptized. After her funeral, we never really talked much about her. But when I missed her, I read this note, and it talked about how she knew I would grow up to be kind and strong and do the right things.
But eventually, my dad remarried. We didn't talk about mom in front of dad, because he never wanted to talk about her. But we really felt like we couldn't talk to talk about her in front of Susan, our stepmom. So, life went on. My brother moved out, and I eventually went to college. Susan was diagnosed with breast cancer. I really didn't understand life. And on those sad days, I'd get out of that piece of paper and I would read that I was going to be kind and strong. And that paper, I believed it. Like, I believed her, and I missed her.
Over the years, I had fallen out of touch with my mom's family. They thought my dad had remarried too soon, and he thought that they were annoying in laws and so. Eventually, I visited my Aunt Laura. She went upstairs and got this notebook. When I saw it, I realized that that was the notebook that lived on my mom's bedside table, and it was her journal. I cried. I ugly cried, and that was the best Christmas present I've ever gotten.
Over the next year, I could only read a page at a time before I was so worked up I had to stop. The journal started the day she found the lump, I had no idea how afraid she was to tell my dad about the lump. But with these questions answered, I felt more comfortable asking Susan about her lump, and what her experience was like with cancer and with my family. The journal opened up the door for my stepmom and I to talk about cancer, grief and my mom more candidly.
I got married this past year. Susan and I danced to You’ll Be in My Heart by Phil Collins. During that dance, I was ugly crying, and Susan apologized that my mom couldn't be there dancing with me and I told her that the song was about a stepmom. I thanked her for raising me and teaching me so much. And 14 years later, I know my mom is still cheering me on, still teaching me to be kind and strong and helping me become the man I always wanted to be. I'm grateful I've had two wonderful female role models that I can call mom.
Sarah: [00:34:27] Remember, you can pitch us your story. And when you do, here are a few tips to think about before you record. We want to hear a short version of the plot, but also how you felt while these things were happening. Stories are like fingerprints. They're unique to you. So, share a few details of these scenes that you'll never forget. How did these moments change you? You can call us at 877-799-MOTH, or pitch us online at themoth.org. And you could inspire someone you know to pitch to. Spread the word.
After our break, a woman plans to move through grief and a man tries to help his step kids, but they may not be interested, when the Moth Radio Hour continues.
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Jay: [00:35:40] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Sarah: [00:35:53] You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Sarah Austin Jenness. This is an hour all about moving forward, even if it's only in small steps. Susan Earley told this next story at an open-mic Moth SLAM in Denver, Colorado, where we partnered with public radio station KUNC. Live at The Moth, here's Susan Earley.
[cheers and applause]
Susan: [00:36:18] I grew up in New York City, and I came to Colorado every summer from the time I was 6 to 16. Secretly sad that my grandparents didn't live in Florida like everyone else's grandparents in New York. [audience laughter] But I've learned to appreciate what I had. My grandparents were incredible people, and I was very lucky to spend every summer with them growing up.
When I was in college, I lived here for a summer with them, and I got to know them as adults and it was a privilege and quite fun. We had a lot of fun that summer. My grandfather passed away right before his 80th birthday. I knew it was going to be really hard on my grandmother. Everyone else in the family had come ahead of time to help with the arrangements and the logistics. And so, I arranged my schedule to come and stay extra on the back end. It was a good plan in my mind, because I knew once everyone left, it's really hard. They had been married just short of 60 years. They spent their whole adult lives together. He had been in a nursing home the last two years, but he always had hope of getting back home.
My grandmother, Grandma Jane, had bought him a beautiful blue Polo shirt at Ross' in Mexico and Colorado that I drove by on my way here. When my mom left, she said to me, “Grandma wants you to return that shirt. I tried to return it. She didn't buy it there. She doesn't have the receipt. You're not going to be able to do it.” I was like, “Okay, not a problem.” So, we get up the day after everyone has left, and my grandma's like, “Oh, we got to run some errands.” I'm like, “No problem. What do you need to do?” She's like, “We have to return that shirt.” I'm like, “Okay, let's go.”
We were going to go to Village Inn afterwards, which was better than Perkins, but [audience laughter] still, I was more afraid of that than trying to return this shirt to Ross'. So, she pulls up to the part at Ross', and she's sitting in her purple Toyota Camry that she hated, because it looked like a Barbie car, but it was the color my grandfather picked out, because it was the cheapest one on the lot. And she says, “My foot is killing me. You go in.” I'm like, “No problem.” So, I go in. I have the bag, I have the receipt and this really beautiful sky blue Polo shirt that would match my grandpa's eyes.
So, I knew, I thought, she has bought him a birthday present every year for almost 60 years. Like, she was ready. He left the earth a few days before his birthday, but she was ready for that with a present in case he made it. He wouldn't have worn it. He didn't wear a lot of shirts, but she had something new to celebrate with him. So, I walk in, and the cashier is Yolanda. I look at her and I say, I really need your help. She's like, “What?” I'm like, “Do you see that lovely lady in the purple Toyota looking at us, watching us like a hawk?” She's like, “Yeah.” I’m like, “That's my grandma. She just lost her husband, and I cannot walk out of here with this shirt.”
She was like, “Okay.” I'm like, “Look at it. She swears she bought it here. She swears this is a receipt. My mom's been in here. We can't return it.” She diligently opens the bag, she pulls out the receipt and she's like, “Yeah, we don't even sell this shirt.” I'm like, “I don't care. Give it to someone. Throw it away. Give it to someone who works here. I cannot walk out of here with this shirt.” She looks at me and she goes, “How long were they married?” I'm like, “Almost 60 years.” She's like, “No problem.” [audience laughter]
She takes the shirt. She's like, “Do you want me to give you money back?” I'm like, “Yeah. Can you pretend?” She's like, “Oh, yeah.” [audience laughter] She makes a big show. She opens the register. She slides the money across the counter to me. I put the fake money in my wallet. I go back out. Grandma's like, “How'd it go?” I'm like, “We're good. I got your $12.” She's like, “Awesome.” Pull it out of my wallet. I give it to her.
We go home. We're reading our books, enjoying the day. My mom calls. And of course, you know when you're having that conversation where you can't say what you want to say, because you're in the room with someone else you don't want to hear? And my mom's like, “I can't believe you did that. How did you do that?” I'm like, “You're right.” I said, it was tricky. She goes, “What do you mean?” I'm like, “Well, you're right.” [audience laughter] She's like, “What are you talking about?” She's like, “Oh, you're in the room with grandma?” I'm like, “Exactly.” [audience laughter] And she says, “So, she didn't buy it at Ross'?” I was like, “No.” “And that wasn't the receipt?” I was like, “Correct.” [audience laughter]
She's like, “But Grandma said you got it returned and you gave her the money.” I'm like, “Exactly.” [audience laughter] And all of a sudden, you can see the light bulb over the phone and my mom go off, she's like, “Oh, my God, you gave her your money?” I'm like, “Right.” [audience laughter] Because it was about not leaving that shirt in the bag in the car, because that was a shirt that the love of her life, when she walked in the room, those blue eyes lit up and she didn't want it, and I made sure she didn't have it. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:41:38] That was Susan Earley. Susan still lives in Colorado, and she continued to have adventures with her grandmother up until the end. She says, her greatest service was to just be with her as she took her very last steps forward. To see a photo of Susan on vacation with her grandparents in Colorado, go to themoth.org.
[lighthearted music]
Our last storyteller in this hour is Erik Heen. He told us at a Moth SLAM in Houston, Texas, where we partner with Houston Public Media. Here's Erik, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Erik: [00:42:26] When I was 26 years old, I fell in love with a woman who was eight years older than I was. She had just divorced an abusive man, and there was rumors that she had issues with alcohol. So, this was not a good recipe for a healthy relationship, but I was in love and I moved in with her.
To complicate things, she had two daughters, 12 and 14 years old. The first thing the youngest daughter, Bridget, said to me the day I moved in was, “My real dad is going to kick your ass.” [audience laughter] I shrugged that off. I figured the mother would take care of the daughters and I would have not much to do with them kids. But almost right away, these paternal instincts just kicked in, and I'd get so I would want to help them with their homework, or if boys came around, I'd get really protective. I was feeling fatherly there.
The older girl, she was very independent. No problems at all with her. But this younger girl, Bridget, she terrorized me. [audience laughter] She'd call me names. She'd call me buttmunch all the time. [audience laughter] She'd come up behind me, and hit me in the back as hard as she could and then run off. But I always figured that maybe it's just an act. And then, maybe deep down, she had a good heart. [audience laughter]
Well, as time went on, the mother relapsed into some alcohol issues, so this interfered with her parental skills. The father was a deadbeat, and he had drinking issues as well. So, I looked at this Bridget, and I'm thinking poor kid. And so, I'd do stuff. I bought her a guitar, guitar lessons. I'd go to her school programs and clap for her, trying to do what I could. But all through this, she still treated me just like crap. But I thought, well, it's not that bad, because at least she's on the right track. But in the long run, maybe I wasn't doing so good there, because after a while, she started skipping classes. She got busted for shoplifting. Eventually, she was starting to use drugs. It didn't look good for Bridget.
One day, the older sister called me when I was at work, and she said, “Bridget's been arrested, and mom is not in any condition to handle the situation.” So, I rushed over to the police station, and juvenile officer told me that Bridget had gotten into a fight with another girl and that Bridget had pulled out a knife. They brought me back to this room back there where she was sitting. As soon as she saw me, she said, “Get him out of here. He's not my real dad.” So, they brought me back out to the front. They said, “Yeah, technically, you're not the legal guardian, so get out.”
Well, I went home and I looked around and I thought, what the hell am I doing here? So, I didn't love the mother for a long time. Bridget hated my guts. And I wasn't her father. Right then, I decided people don't change. If you try to help them change, you're only going to waste your own life. Within 24 hours, I was packed up and I was gone. I cut off all communications with them.
There's a little more to the story. 10 years later, I'm living here in Houston, got a whole new life. About the time Facebook came out, I joined. And right off the bat, I get this message, and it's from Bridget. She said that she'd been trying to find me for years and that she said, “Call me right away. It's very important.” And she had her phone number there. I looked at her Facebook page here. She's a realtor. She volunteers for all these community projects. She changed? I was wrong.
So, I called the number and hear her voice, all these memories flooding back. She said that all through her childhood that I was the only one who really gave her much time and effort. She said when she changed that I was her role model for that. And she said, “I met this really great guy.” She said, “He reminds me of you.” And she said, “I want you to come, give me away at my wedding ceremony next month.” And I said, hell, yeah, I'll do it. [audience laughter] And I said, but why aren't you asking your real dad? And she said, “I am.” Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Sarah: [00:48:27] That was Erik Heen. Eric is a former Montana sheep rancher who ended up in Houston, Texas, in a career as a federal investigator. Now retired, he spends his days writing stories and volunteering his services for his public radio station. Bridget lives in Montana and has a family of her own, and Erik visits every year.
[lighthearted music]
You can share the stories from this hour or others from The Moth Archive through our website, themoth.org. Find us on social media too. We're on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc., @themoth.
This hour has been about progress. Taking the smallest step after all is still movement. And maybe you'll tell a story about the journey. Check out The Moth schedule on our website and find out about our online SLAMs, and throw your name in the virtual hat. We want to hear your stories. That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time.
[overture music]
Jay: [00:49:51] Your host for this hour was Sarah Austin Jenness. Grand SLAM coaching by Michelle Jalowski, and in The Moth Teacher Institute by Tim Lopez and Nica Williams.
The rest of The Moth directorial staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Jenifer Hixson and Meg Bowles. Production support from Emily Couch. Our pitch came from Jeff Hinton. Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the Drift. Other music in this hour from The Magic Lantern, Stellwagen Symphonette, Julian Lage, Keith Jarrett, Jan Garbarek, Holly Danielson and John Christensen, Dave Douglas, Blue Dot Sessions and Bill Frisell. 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 Art. The Moth Radio Hour is presented by PRX. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.