Host: Samuel James
[overture music]
Samuel James: [00:00:12] From PRX, this is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host, Samuel James.
This time, we have stories of people walking the walk, some on their own, some with some help and others who, let's just say, need a little extra nudge. We have stories of uniquely awkward situations, unrequited love, the search for beauty, and what it's like to have a crush on a classmate when your mom is the teacher.
We start with a story from one of the Moth's GrandSLAM events in Boston, where we partner with PRX and local public radio station WBUR. Here's Kristin Lee, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Kristin Lee: [00:00:55] I'm 13 years old, and just said goodbye to my parents after they've dropped me off at the University of Iowa dorms for summer Sleepaway Genetics Camp. [audience laughter] I am so excited. I'm going to stay up late talking to my roommate, hang out with friends whenever I want to, plus we're going to learn about mitosis and meiosis and Mendel and mutations and how can this possibly not go well?
When I get back up to my room, my roommate, Megan, has just moved in. And the first thing she says to me is, “I knew you were going to be friends from the moment I saw the clothes hanging in your closet.” That's a little odd. But at least, she likes me. And that first day, a small crew of girls forms around Megan and me. And I'm so excited, I've already made my friends.
The first week of camp is a paradise of biology. We make 3D models of the double helix structure of DNA, lining up those As and Ts and Cs and Gs. We transcribe DNA sequences into RNA, and translate that into amino acids and protein structures. I feel like we've been given the secret code of life, which we have. [audience laughter] I geek out over Punnett square problem sets and mapping pedigrees, shading those circles and squares to show how a disease is transmitted through a family. Classic summer camp activities. [audience laughter] It's the best.
I have to admit though, I'm getting some weird vibes from my new friends. Every morning as we walk through the university quad on the way to class, Heather makes fun of my hair and teases me about the keychains on my backpack. Tori scribbles on my homework and crumples it up. Megan starts borrowing my stuff without asking. I find notes on my desk written in my eyeliner that say, “I'm wearing your sandals today.” But it's okay. I know how to deal with people like this.
13 years growing up as a Chinese-American girl in Iowa have taught me how to fit in as an interloper. Be super nice, erase my own personality, go with the flow. It's never failed me before, and surely, it's not going to fail me at nerd camp, where by definition, no one here is too cool for school. [audience laughter] So, I keep trying to be as agreeable and accommodating as possible.
At the end of the first week of camp, we're playing a game in class that requires other people to help us solve our mystery genotypes. This involves passing slips of paper to our friends with questions on them. Like, if I had a kid with someone who has attached earlobes, is it possible that our kids could have attached earlobes too? And if the answer is no, then I know that I'm homozygous for the autosomal dominant trait of having detached earlobes. Super simple.
But during the game, my friends, instead of passing back real answers to me on the slips of paper, they write, “Why are you so ugly? And you're stupid.” And at the end of the game, I'm the only one who hasn't been able to figure out my genotype. As the classroom empties out, I sit in my chair and I rack my brain trying to think of what I've done to offend Megan and Tori and Heather and the others. I really can't think of anything. But I hope that maybe this is just some weird hazing ritual. Maybe if I weather anything that they throw at me, they'll finally accept me.
So, I trail along behind them to the cafeteria. We set our trays down at the same table where we always sit. And the other girls pass around a look, and Megan says, “I have a story to tell. Last summer at camp, there was this girl who no one liked, and she kept trying to hang out with us and we didn't know how to get rid of her.” Heat floods my face. Thus far, I have refused to read the signals that these girls have been sending me, because I'm under the mistaken impression that ignoring meanness in other people is the nice thing to do and will make it go away. But now, Megan here has told such an obvious parable that she's basically forcing me to read between the lines.
I know she's talking about me. I know I'm not wanted. I get up quickly, bust my tray without having eaten, walk back to my room. But I can't even take refuge there, because soon, Megan and the other girls go back there to hang out, and I don't want them to see me crying. But I have a new problem. Tonight is the Friday night dance. And the last thing I want to do is go to a dance without any friends. So, I ask the camp counselor, if I can just stay in my room and read a book. But she says “No.”
So, I go down the hall. New plan. Ask a random girl if I can use her dorm room phone. I unspool the cord as long as it can go to try to get some privacy. I call my mom and I say, mom, please come pick me up. I am done with camp. Because you see, I live 10 minutes away. I live in Iowa City where camp occurs. There is no reason for me to stay in this place for another week. But my mom says, “No.” So, my last plan is just to hide in a corner of this girl's room and try not to cry until the time of the dance. I shuffle off to the dance alone. And in the dorm basement, 90s tunes are pumping. Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Everybody by Backstreet Boys.
In my normal life, I'm too self-conscious to really be much of a dancer. But tonight, I'm like, “What the heck? I don't know anybody here who I care about. Why not let loose?” Because these girls, rejection of me, yeah, it's broken me, but it's also freed me, because why contort myself into something else when it's not going to make people like me? Why not just be myself? So, I let the music take over and I dance. I get pulled into this big dance circle, and everyone around me is smiling and I'm feeling the beat. And soon, I'm smiling too.
So, when the camp counselor taps me on the shoulder and says, “Hey, your mom's here,” I'm like, “What? Why is my mom here?” [audience laughter] And then, I remember that a few hours ago I was bawling and asking to go home. I end up staying at camp. I do learn very cool stuff about mitosis and meiosis and mutations and Mendel. And I make new friends who are nice, normal people. But I never forget that there really are mean people in this world. You can't always win them over with kindness, but you don't have to let them crush your spirit. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Samuel James: [00:07:07] That was Kristin Lee. Kristen is an avid reader, book reviewer and aspiring writer who lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts with her partner, three children and a mini Goldendoodle, Fluffy. Kristen ended up working in a genetics research lab during summers in high school and went on to major in biology in college, which eventually led to medical school. You can see a picture of Kristen and Fluffy on our website, themoth.org.
Maura Schneider shared this next story on another GrandSLAM stage. This one at the Lincoln theater in Washington, D.C, where we partner with local public radio station WAMU. Just a note, Maura alludes to teenage sexual awakening. It's all very innocent, but just wanted to mention. Here's Maura Schneider, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Maura Schneider: [00:08:05] I once lived in a world where sex was only practice between two consenting Barbie dolls. [audience laughter] My best friend, Emily, and I spent so many unsupervised hours when we were seven in her basement, kneeling in front of Barbie's dream house in carefully unvelcroing blouses and pressing nippleless boobs against chiseled chests and giggling. [audience laughter]
And then, when we’re eight, the summer we were eight, we emerged from that dark basement, and we went to the pool, and we realized that non-plastic living boys could also make us giggle. We would whisper about the cutest ones and laugh when they belly flopped or tried to eat a whole hot dog in one bite. There was one boy who ruled them all, this muscly blond middle schooler named Scott.
When he was there, I felt like there was a magnet in my chest pulling me towards him. He was so beautiful. It was like the world was brighter and better when he was there. Emily liked him too, my best friend. And so, we would tread water next to him trying to get his attention. [audience laughter] She was really bold, so she'd say things like, “Looks like that modeling contract's going to come through Scott.” [audience laughter] Or, time my underwater handstand. I was really shy. I would try and talk, but I would just stare at him, [audience laughter] hoping that that would evolve into a romantic relationship. [audience laughter]
Instead, after a week of being these perpetual giggling shadows next to him, Scott got tired of it, and he pushed us away from him in the pool and yelled, “Ugh, you guys are so annoying. Just leave me alone.” I was heartbroken. Emily and I gathered up our stuff and ran back to her house. Once we had changed, we went back down to the basement with where we were just seething with anger.
See, we'd been playing relationships for years now with dolls, and stories, and movies and the girl and the boy always get together. We had no framework for rejection. Before I go on, I just want to remind you that there are a lot of adults in the world who do not know how to handle rejection without lashing out. And I still had 12 of my baby teeth. [audience laughter] So, we started plotting like, I wanted to take that pain and get it out of me and onto Scott. [audience laughter] I do not know why, but the solution was a letter, a sexy letter, [audience laughter] a sexy prank letter.
We would write a letter, and sign it from a made-up name and it would drive him crazy. He would never be able to find her, so we'd win. [audience laughter] So, we started writing. Emily had better handwriting. So, she was doing most of the writing. She was coming up with some real good lines about butts. [audience laughter] I was inspired by all of those hours of research at Barbie's dream house. I said, write this down. I want to get naked and hug and kiss you. [audience laughter] It was the best. We signed it Love Sally, because we thought that was the sexiest woman's name. [audience laughter]
We ran over to his house, and jammed it in the mail slot when the coast was clear, and then we ran home and played it cool. Because I was eight, the next morning, I had basically forgotten about it. [audience laughter] I was playing dolls in my second-floor bedroom, and I looked out the window and there's Scott marching down the street with his brother, and he's holding the letter. [audience laughter] My mom was working. My sister was watching us. She and Scott were the same year in school. I shouted down to her, “Don't let him in.” But okay. My sister's awesome, but she was like, “Not very cool in school and Scott was.” She chose status over sisterhood [audience laughter] and escorted him upstairs.
I panicked and ran to the bathroom to hide, but our bathroom door didn't lock, so I had to jam my shoulder against the wall against the door. Scott and his brother and my own sister are pushing on the other side. But I've got a lot of adrenaline, so I'm holding my own. [audience laughter] Every once in a while, the door pops open, and Scott and I make eye contact in the mirror. He's still so cute. [audience laughter] I pop it back and he starts interrogating me. I'm denying everything, everything. It's the longest conversation that we've ever had.
And then, he's like, “Who's Sally? Who's Sally?” And I'm like, “I don't know. I don’t know” And then, “Who's Sally?” And I say, I think she goes to Emily's school. He leaves. He goes down. I'm like, “Oh, my God, he bought it. I'm in the clear.” And then, I think, dang, I sold out my best friend really quick. [audience laughter] And then, I'm like, “Can we still have that romantic relationship?” Well, surprise, it was not over. Scott's mom called my mom and Emily's mom, and they had what must have been the most awkward conversation [audience laughter] my mom has ever had as a mom.
Afterwards she came home, and came up to my room and sat on my bed and said, “Maura, do you have any questions about your body or [audience laughter] your feelings?” And I'm like, “Oh my God, no, no, I don't want to talk about this.” But when I open my mouth, I just start crying. I'm embarrassed, and I know I'm in trouble, but I started this summer thinking that sex was just a game that you played with adults. And then, in the last 24 hours, I had burst into this world of shame, and rejection and erotic revenge letters. [audience laughter] And now, everybody in my neighborhood knew that I knew what sex was. I realized once you go into that world, you can never go back. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Samuel James: [00:14:21] Maura Schneider is a writer and illustrator living in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Her graphic essays have appeared in The Believers and NO TOKENS Journal. She is currently working on a graphic memoir about sexuality, consent and caregiving.
What I love about Maura's story is not just the sudden realization that she's in over her head, but that she's got to stay there a while. Maura told me that she wishes she'd learned earlier not to be so scared of embarrassing herself, but the absolute lack of control that comes with parenting encouraged her back to that place of bold, gut driven risk taking that gave her the nerve to get up on The Moth stage at her first slam, and win.
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In a moment, stories of helping hands during crisis, when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
Jay: [00:15:50] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Samuel James: [00:16:03] This is The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Samuel James.
As I was listening back to these stories, I was reminded that walking the walk doesn't just show others who you are. Along the way, it can reveal who you should be, who you can be and who you want to be, and sometimes even more than that, like with our next storyteller, Kaya Jarvis. They shared their story at a showcase we produced featuring stories from women and girls that we presented in partnership with the Kate Spade Foundation in New York. A quick note that this story references an eating disorder. Here's Kaya Jarvis.
[cheers and applause]
Kaya Jarvis: [00:16:43] In March of 2020, my parents drove me and my sister from our New York City apartment upstate to spend quarantine in a little cabin. It was heated by a fireplace for the first two months. It didn't have running water, so we had to use our neighbor's hose to brush our teeth and take showers. It was very tight and cramped.
And like everyone else, we were going crazy. We were fighting a lot. I was finishing eighth grade at the time. I didn't want to be stuck in a house with my family. My sister didn't want to be stuck in a house with a family. My parents didn't want to be stuck in a house together or with us. And it was a lot.
Throughout eighth grade, I felt very isolated and insecure, and I didn't feel very connected to the people around me. I was going through a lot of depression and anxiety. And this got really heightened in quarantine, because I had more time to just sit with my thoughts, and I didn't have the distractions of taking the subway and always being surrounded by people and things to take me away from what I was feeling. Throughout my life, I've always dealt with bad feelings with food. If I'm having a bad day, I would eat something that made me feel really good and happy.
But in eighth grade, I approached food in a very different way. Instead of eating something that made me happy, I would restrict to take my mind off of things that were causing me stress and to give me something else to focus on. This progressed a lot in quarantine, to the point where all I could think about was food, and what I would eat and what I would not eat and how many calories I wanted to eat and how much I weighed and what I looked like. This got worse and worse throughout quarantine, and I couldn't think about anything else.
My mom wanted us to really connect. And so, she started making these really elaborate dinners a couple of times a week. She would make us all get off of our phones, and sit us down at the table and present us with roasted vegetables, salad and pasta and whatever she could come up with, and have us all eat there and sit together. But these dinners didn't really help me, and they made me feel very stressed out, because I would look at this plate in front of me and not be able to eat it. I would try to hide it from my parents, but at one point, I couldn't hide it from them. So, I had to sit my mom down and tell her that I had an eating disorder and that I needed some help with it.
And so, my parents were very supportive and they signed me up for therapy. My mom started driving me down to a doctor's in Manhattan once a week, where I would get weighed and I would have to list everything that I ate that day and everything that I'd eaten that week. I was very lucky to have this help, but I also felt very watched and in trouble, like I was doing something wrong, which I was but I also couldn't really tell that I was doing something wrong at the time.
This went on. I kept on going to these doctor's appointments. I kept on having therapy, but it wasn't really helping that much, because I still felt really isolated and disconnected. One time, while my mom was driving me to the doctor's appointment, she brings up my friend Lana. And she's like, “Hey, why don't you reach out to Lana and ask her to hang out? You know, she lives right by the doctors. You guys could go to the park. It might be nice for you to talk to someone outside of the foreign family members that you're stuck in a house with.”
So, I reached out to Lana. Lana was one of the only other black girls in our mostly white Upper West Side middle school. So, we always had this connection that I didn't really feel with any of my white friends. And we always understood each other on a deeper level. I reached out to Lana, and we made plans. Throughout quarantine, she was one of the only people I ever actually stayed in contact with. I was isolating myself from school and my friends and even my family, because all I could think about was food.
And so, I reach out to Lana, and we make plans to hang out and I'm really excited. And the next week, I go to the doctor's appointment. It's very cold in there, and the doctor isn't very nice, and I'm being weighed and I feel very watched again, but I know I'm going to see my friend in a couple of hours. So, I make my way from the doctor's appointment. I walk 10 blocks to her house. But as I'm walking over to her house, it hits me that I'm sick and I have an eating disorder.
When you hang out with people, you're supposed to eat. You're supposed to have fun eating, and you're supposed to talk with each other and not focus on the food. But all I could focus on at the time was food. So, I'm making my way over to her house, and I'm very excited, but I'm also deeply, deeply stressed. But I pick her up, and we do a little air hug and we start walking over to Central Park. And then, she's like, “Hey, there's this pizza place around the corner, and it's really good. Do you maybe want to get a slice?” And I'm like, “Sure. Yeah, I love pizza. That sounds great.”
But we go to the pizza place, and I'm really stressed out the entire time. I get my slice, though, and we go over to Central Park and we sit down at this really nice bench. It's super sunny and the wind is blowing perfectly. She's telling very great stories. She's a very funny person. We're looking at TikTok’s or whatever. She starts to eat her pizza. I look down, and I open up this box in front of me, and I can immediately smell how good this pizza will taste. I look at it, and it has the perfect amount of cheese and the right crust. It has all of these things that I really love, but also all of these things that at the time I'm really scared of, cheese and oil and bread and whatever.
And so, I don't want to be weird and I don't want Lana to suspect anything. I just want to have a normal hangout. So, I take a couple of bites and I just make myself eat. But I don't finish the slice, and it's okay. She doesn't notice anything. We just go on with the hangout, and it's okay. And the next week, I go to the doctors again, and we hang out again and we get pizza. I'm still really scared and I don't finish my slice, but at least I know Lana won't be watching me and I know that she'll still treat me like I'm normal. This goes on.
Every week, I go to the doctors, I go to therapy. I feel really watched by everyone, including my family. My mom would check my plate every meal, and I would have to list everything I ate. But I would always get to see Lana every week, and we would always eat together, and I would always be able to laugh and focus on what she was saying. Overtime, these hangouts really helped me, because I was able to associate food and eating with my friend and the laughter and the joy I feel when I'm around her and also when I'm eating with her.
It's now about to be ninth grade. We're about to start high school. It's a very big time. I'm nervous about that, but I'm also really excited to start something new. I'm doing a lot better with food. I'm eating a lot more. I'm feeling a lot less stressed about it. And a big reason for that is Lana. And so, we're hanging out. And that day, we get pizza and we decide to go to Riverside Park and we find this really nice spot, that's away from everyone where you can see the river and we're covered by trees and we start to eat our food.
I notice that I'm not thinking about the food, and I'm just thinking about what she's saying and how nice it looks that day. And so, I decide I want to tell her and I go, “Hey, Lana, throughout quarantine, I've had an eating disorder and I'm a lot better now. And you're one of the main reasons I'm a lot better.” I'm scared to tell her this. I don't want things to change. I want to feel normal. I don't want to feel watched. But she gives me a hug, and she tells me she's proud of me and she tells me how strong I am. And things go back to normal. We watch TikTok’s, and we talk and we laugh and it's fine.
Throughout ninth grade and high school, I'm now a junior. We've stayed friends. I'm fully recovered now. Every time we hang out, we eat together and we laugh and we share stories. And instead of focusing on food and the negative parts of it and the things that are scary about it, I can now focus on what I love about food and also what I love about the people that I share food with.
[cheers and applause]
Samuel James: [00:25:01] Kaya Jarvis is a 16-year-old, born and raised New Yorker. They said they spread spend their hours going to school, playing in a band, making art, curled up in a ball with headphones on and skipping around with friends. To see a picture of Kaya and find out more about any of the storytellers you've heard this hour, as well as info about other Moth live events, you can visit our website at themoth.org.
Our next story is from Dr. Sam Blackman. He shared this emotional story about his work in pediatric oncology in Seattle, Washington, where we partnered with public radio station KUOW. Live from the Abbey Arts Center, here's Sam Blackman.
[cheers and applause]
Sam: [00:26:00] I looked in the usual places. I looked in the lab, and the labor and delivery ward and the operating room. But for me, the images under the microscope were just mostly interesting. The birth of a child, if it's not your child, is not beautiful. Sorry. [audience laughter] In the operating room, I found more brutality than beauty. As a second-year pediatric resident, if there was beauty in medicine, I wasn't seeing it.
After 100-hour work weeks, a kid could craft rose petals and I would just dutifully put some in a vial and note it in the chart. [audience laughter] Don't confuse cute with beauty. Sick kids, even really sick kids, can be cute, but disease is not beauty, and parents of sick kids are not beautiful. Parents of sick kids are terrified.
When you feel that the life of your child is in danger, you want some element of control. What you don't want is a second-year pediatric resident, and you certainly didn't want me at that time. [audience laughter] Because between the crushing fatigue and the constant fear of screwing up and not knowing enough, not only was there no beauty in my life, but I was actually getting uglier, because I would let the frustration and the fear creep in, and sometimes my words would hurt the people that I was there to help.
It turned out that there were moments where I was so ashamed, because for someone who so desperately wanted to be a doctor, I was not being the doctor that I wanted to be. I was not being my best self. Brianna's mother took this to a whole new level. The rage that she felt and that she made the team feel pervaded us on a daily basis. We all knew why. Her child was going to die, and there was nothing that we could do about it. She had the period, worst period, tumor period ever.
She had a diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma, a bastard of a tumor that invades the brainstem. It's inoperable in all situations. You can't touch it with chemo or radiation. It's 100% fatal. And most children die within eight months of diagnosis. Her rage was compounded by the fact that she was a single mother and she was going through this alone. And so, she would wall herself off. She kept the glass door to her room closed, she kept the curtains drawn and the lights off and she wouldn't let us in at all for rounds. She wouldn't even let us to examine Brianna, because what was the point?
And so, we would dutifully hover every morning outside of her room to go over the day's labs and to go over the plan and we would beg to come in, but she would not let us come in. She wouldn't even talk to us or want to hear the treatment plan, except for when she wanted us to use her treatment plan and then we would negotiate. “Substitute herbal tea for water?” “Sure.” “Skip the steroids and blood pressure medicines?” “No.” Coffee enemas? What about coffee enemas?” We had a week-long debate about coffee enemas. It's a thing. And my attending had never heard about coffee enemas. And so, he sent me to go research coffee enemas.
When I came back, he said, “You go into the room and tell her why we can't do daily coffee enemas.” And so, I went into the room. But because I presented both sides of the issues to her, she actually started to let me in, literally let me in. I was the only doctor who could go into the room. Every day, I would sit outside and we'd round as a team, and then I would go into the room, and I would examine Brianna, and I would talk to her about the plan and then I'd come out and communicate with the team. And so, for a few weeks until I went off service, I was exclusively Brianna's doctor. But then, rotations end and teams rotate off and residents change and I went on to the next thing.
About a month later, I was coming home from dinner with my wife on a Saturday night. My pager went off, and it was a nurse from the pavilion, which is the part of the hospital where the palliative care patients stay. The nurse said that she thought that Brianna was dying and wanted to know if I would come in. Now, I wasn't on call or on service, but something told me that I should go.
So, I called my attending on service and I said, would you meet me there, because I've never attended a death before. And believe it or not, attending a death is a lot more complicated. You don't just stand there and wait for the person to die. One of the horrible things that they neglect to tell you at the start of your pediatric residency, is that children take a really long time to die, because they've got brand new hearts and brand-new lungs. Their bodies really try to cling to life. Think about that for a minute and think about what that looks like.
So, it was 10 o'clock at night. And for the next four hours, we did our job. We gave medicines to help her agonal breathing and to alleviate any pain. When we couldn't do any more, we stood by the door and we bore witness. The nurse went in unchecked on her, and came out and said that she thought that Brianna had stopped breathing. The attending physician said to me that I should go and pronounce her dead, because the mom knew me and appeared to trust me. And I said, all right, but I've never done this before. I didn't know what to expect.
So, I quietly went into the room and I said, I need to examine Brianna, one last time. And then, I performed the ritual. I felt for the absence of a pulse. I put my stethoscope on her chest and I listened for a full 60 seconds for the absence of a heartbeat. I said to her mother, “I'm so sorry for your loss,” and I noted silently the time of death. As I was getting ready to leave the room, I turned to her and I said, is there any I can do for you? She paused and said, “Could you pray with me?”
I hesitated, because I'm a lapsed Jew from New Jersey, and I don't really pray and I don't really believe in God. And frankly, pretending to pray in the face of a dead child seemed like the absolutely wrong thing to do. But then, there in that moment, it dawned on me that this wasn't about me. Brianna's mother needed me to be the doctor that she saw me as, and this was the opportunity for me to be the doctor that I wanted to be. And so, there in that room, lit just by silent, glowing monitors, I had the one truly beautiful moment for myself in medicine, where a stranger held my hands and we stood over the body of her daughter, and I closed my eyes when she did.
When she started to speak words of a prayer that I had only heard a few times before, somehow came forth, “Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Samuel James: [00:33:02] Sam Blackman is a pediatric oncologist, cancer drug developer and chief medical officer at Day One Biopharmaceuticals. He lives on Orcas Island in Washington state with his wife, Julie, daughter, Annika and a menagerie of pets.
Sam said his decision to enter medicine was less about science and more about understanding life and what makes it so precious and special. This experience was a tipping point for him, and he has carried the memory of Brianna with him for over 20 years. You can see a picture of Sam from his residency days on our website, themoth.org.
Coming up, navigating teenage crushes in high school, where your mother is also your teacher, when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
Jay: [00:34:22] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Samuel James: [00:34:36] You're listening to the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Samuel James.
We all know that high school years can be strange and nerve wracking, and that's what Annē Linn told us about at a story slam we produced at the Miracle Theater in Washington, D.C, where we partner with local public radio station WAMU. Here's Annē Linn, live at The Moth.
[cheers and applause]
Annē Linn: [00:35:05] As I prepared to enter high school, my mom introduced a new rule. I would have to call her Mrs. Hoblit. And even though I threw a huge fuss about calling her by her teacher name, it turned out that this was not the most difficult part of our mother-daughter, student-teacher relationship that we were going to have to navigate. I was a highly dramatic teenager who just wanted to fall in love, and she was a stoic Norwegian-American teacher who just wanted her students to love grammar. [audience laughter] She laid out some pretty strict rules at the beginning. She was not going to pull any strings for me. This was not going to be like the drama teacher who cast her daughter as the lead in every play. No resentment there. [audience laughter]
I didn't really want her to or need her to, because I was a super goody, goody rule follower. So, she didn't really need to do anything for me to get along in high school. The one exception that she did make was that she bumped me up on the list for Driver Z. Not because she wanted me to get my license any earlier, you can drive in Montana at age 15, but she wanted to make sure that I learned how to drive on the icy Montana winter roads.
But then, things got a little more blurry when she actually became my teacher. It turned out that her omnipresence had a bit of an effect on my romantic life. So, when I first had her as a teacher my sophomore year for English, and I started to scheme about how she could be useful in more ways than just teaching me how to write, which she was very well known for being very good at. But my first high school boyfriend broke up with me several days into the school year. It was not a serious relationship. We held hands a couple times, and he kissed me on the cheek, but I still was very dramatic and wanted to feel all the feelings. And so, I plotted this revenge plan that I pitched to my mom over dinner. [audience laughter] I said, so, mom, Nate's desk is not that far away from your desk and you have this- she called it the dinger, this high-pitched bell that she would ring she probably got at the mom store [audience laughter] to get students attention.
I said, you could just ring it in Nate's ear and it would be very nonchalant. He sits right there. Just consider it. She didn't. But it turned out that the population of boys in that particular sophomore English class would be fodder for many dinnertime conversations throughout the year. As I recovered from the heartbreak of Nate, something very surprising happened, and that Caleb started flirting with me. He was much cooler than me. He was the star of the basketball team. I was not quite sure what to do with all this attention, especially, because the attention mostly came in the form of him telling dirty pickup lines to my easily scandalized self.
So, for example, walking into class, he says, “Hey, Annē, let's do math. Add a bed, subtract the clothes, divide our legs and I'll multiply.” [audience laughter] I know a real winner, on and off the court. So, I go my own way. We were working on our individual writing assignments, and he pokes me across the aisle and he's like, “Hey, Annē, do you want to help me with my math?” And I was like, “Okay, bring it over here.” This was not uncommon for people to ask me for help with homework. And he's like, “No, will you help me with my math?” And I was like, “Okay, bring it over here.” [audience laughter] He goes, “No, will you help me with my math?” And all of a sudden, the joke clicks into place. And I screamed, “Oh, my gosh.” And my mom whips around.
She goes, “You two, detention.” I said, mom. Mrs. Hoblit. [audience laughter] I had never had detention in high school, and now my mom was my sentencer. She wasn't just going to settle for any old detention. She decided that instead of going to the detention room, we were going to clean her classroom. So, over dinner that night, I tried to plead my case. You should be glad that I had that reaction to a dirty joke. She said, “You should be glad that I just got you an hour by yourself with Caleb.” [audience laughter] I realized that she was right. And so, I prepared for this detention with great hope. Like, in the very romantic setting of my mom's classroom, I could have my first real kiss.
And so, the day of detention, I dressed up very-. My mom's looking at me over breakfast like, “Okay, you're taking this really seriously.” [audience laughter] And we go. I'm really excited. He just acted like we were not there because of his attentions to me and there was nothing between us. It was the first of many heartbreaks. The roller coaster of my sophomore year with Caleb. And later on in the year, I said to my mom, I am so over him. And she goes, “Okay, good. Well, just please can we not develop feelings for anyone else in this class? It's becoming a little bit disruptive.” And I was like, “Oh, who could I possibly like in the class?” She raised her eyes at me and was like, “Umm, Patrick.” [audience laughter]
I don't know if it was motherly wisdom or teacherly wisdom, but Patrick and I are married [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause]
We are expecting our first child this fall. I am not a teacher, so I'm going to have to figure out another way to really shape and influence my child's life, both academically and romantically.
[cheers and applause]
Samuel James: [00:41:04] Annē Linn works on global public health and is based in Bozeman, Montana. When she told this at a StorySLAM on theme of mothers, she was about to become a mother herself. And now, she's getting ready to do it all over again with her second child.
I asked Annē, if her mother had used her teacherly wisdom to predict anything else in her life. She said, her mother predicted both that Annē would be able to hold her own out in the world, but also that she'd sometimes struggle with letting things go. According to Annē, both, especially the latter, are definitely true. You can see a picture of Annē and her mom, aka Mrs. Hoblit, on our website, themoth.org.
If you happen to be in Fremont, Washington, at the height of summer, you might come upon the annual Fremont Solstice Parade, which features people on their bikes in various states of nudity covered in body art.
Our final storyteller, Evie O'Reilly, told us about her first time joining this annual tradition at a StorySLAM we produced in Seattle, Washington, where we partnered with local public radio station KUOW. Live from the Abbey Arts Center, here's Evie O'Reilly.
[cheers and applause]
Evie O'Reilly: [00:42:37] So, the first time you do the naked Solstice Cycle, you want to look amazing, and you have a lot of plans and you have a lot of objectives, and they fall away because you have life. And so, the day before you get body paint and that morning you wake up earlier than you ever normally wake up on a Saturday, and you paint yourself and you look in the mirror and you think, oh, I look fantastic. My God, I should do this every day. I thought I was bad at makeup, but this is amazing. [audience laughter]
Now, this was established with clown paint down the center of my body, a smashing green side and orange side, because I was going to be the Irish flag. [audience laughter] And then, you have this moment where you look at yourself, this is brilliant. God, just such a- What about my back? [audience laughter] And so, you panic and you think, he'll be up. Never mind he'll be up. He'll do it. And so, you ring your friends and you get that morning like, “What? Hiya. What are you up to?” “I was asleep.” “Great. That's brilliant. I love that. Look, would you mind coming over?” “Are you all right?” “Yeah, I'm great. I need you to paint my bum.” [audience laughter] “I'm sorry, what?” “I need you to paint my bum.”
Long, long pause. [audience laughter] “Okay.” Click. Minutes later, I'm being painted now. The next thing was, I hadn't actually worked out at the time I lived in Capitol Hill, how to get to Fremont. Normally, I would have taken a bus, but that seemed like a very bad idea under my current situation. [audience laughter] Plus, I now had a bike that I wasn't entirely confident could make it to Fremont. I was sure it could make it somewhat along the race, whatever we're calling it. But to Fremont, I don't know. So, I now think, and I look at my friends, I'm like, “Your boyfriend has a car, right?” She goes, “Yeah.” “So, what's Dan doing this morning?” [audience laughter]
Next thing I know, this poor exhausted teacher is getting me in my car going, “Try not to get paint—too late. There's going to be paint. There is paint to this day.” So, he gets me there. And then, I have the next bit which I can't work out, which I'm like, “Oh, there's all these people. How are we actually going to drive in to drop me off? I'm a proper part of this parade.” I realized the only way to do this is to be dropped at The Nickerson Street Saloon, get out and then run across the bridge with my bike holding it, and then scream at the crowds, “I'm sticky. Let me through.” [audience laughter] This works very well. If you're ever in an emergency, [audience laughter] people scatter.
This was a while ago. At the time, there's still this vague fear of it being illegal and people-- Basically, I had no clue where to meet the other cyclists. So, I'm looking around, looking around, looking around. Finally, it's a moment of delight. You see another naked cyclist, you're like, “Fantastic, Great, we're all here. I'm doing something proper.” So, I meet up with them. We're all outside Hales, and they're like, “Oh, we do this little cycle to Ballard first and then we come around.” And I'm going, “I don't know what you're talking about. I live on Capitol Hill, but I'll follow you anywhere.”
It was brilliant. It was the year of the World cup and a lot of people were in different countries. So, the Irish thing, I got a lot of people screaming, “Go, Italy.” And I was like, “Yeah, EU, we're all alike. It's great.” [audience laughter] Well, up until recently, but that's another story. So, we're cycling along the area and it's great. We're almost at 15th, and suddenly, that feather boa that I put on my bike is bringing back that quote from the Avengers where they say “No capes.”
It turns out no feather boas either, because it gets stuck in my chain. They all keep going. And I'm going, “Wait. Wait for me. Please wait. Please. Oh, no.” And so, I'm there outside a coffee shop, furiously tearing feathers from my bike chain, fully naked painting as I as families are getting their morning coffee with their small children, [audience laughter] looking at me going, “Oh, isn't that authentic?” [audience laughter] And now, all I can do is cycle around the free large area, which, as I said, I had no clue where I was. I keep cycling and cycling, I'm looking for them, no clue where they are. I would come across random people and I'd go, “Hello, have you seen a large group of naked cyclists?” And they go, “No, just you.” [audience laughter]
Now, this went on for 20 minutes. [audience laughter] The longest 20 minutes of my life. And yet, I had a little dress. I never put it on. I kept going. I looked endlessly. And finally, I found them. I had this amazing race and it was like this amazing justification. I'd been at my lowest low and I'd found them. At the very, very, very, very end of the whole thing, I was at PCC. I put the dress on, but I had the silver wig and I was still painted. I felt a hand on my bum and I thought, what the job? This is not that time. I turn around and there's nobody there. I look down. There's a tiny little person. She's about five. She looks at me and she goes, “Are you real?” [audience laughter] And I was like, “Yeah, I'm pretty sure.” I mean, it's up for some debate at times, but yeah. She goes, “Awesome.”
[cheers and applause]
Samuel James: [00:47:51] That was Evie O'Reilly. Evie says that in addition to the Fremont Solstice Parade, she has also appeared naked on a bike in a Flaming Lips video, Watching the Planets. She says, she'd like to give a shout out to Wayne Coyne for normalizing and empowering nakedity, and poor Russ for helping with that first paint job and all her friends who have helped in the years since.
To see pictures of Evie painted as the Irish flag, and a pineapple peacock zebra and even Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise, you can find them all on our website, themoth.org.
The Moth hosts SLAMs all around the US, in the UK and in Australia. If you want to throw your name in a hat for a chance to tell a story, you can find out all of the info for cities, dates and upcoming themes on our website, themoth.org.
The Moth finds a lot of storytellers from our StorySLAM series. But if you have a story you'd like to share and there isn't a slam in your area, you can always pitch us. Just go to our website, themoth.org, look for tell a story and you will find all the info for how to leave a two-minute pitch.
That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time. And that's the story from The Moth.
[overture music]
Jay: [00:49:33] This episode of the Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Catherine Burns, and Meg Bowles and Samuel James, who also hosted the Hour. Coproducer is Vicki Merrick. Associate producer, Emily Couch. Education program and GrandSLAM coaching by Michelle Jalowski and Larry Rosen.
The rest of The Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Jenness, Jenifer Hixson, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Klutse, Lee Ann Gullie, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Glodowski, Sarah Jane Johnson and Aldi Kaza. Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the Storytellers.
Our theme music is by the Drift. Other music in this hour from Stellwagen Symphonette, Cory Wong, Victor Wooten, Paul Motian, Bill Frisell and Joe Lovano, Wolf Pack and Michael Hedges. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts.
The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And 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.