Host: Jenifer Hixson

[Uncanny Valley theme music by The Drift] 

Jenifer: [00:00:12] From PRX, this is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jenifer Hixson. The Moth is true stories told in front of live audiences all over the world. In this episode, we go to a dance audition, a hot dog stand, a bridal shop, and prison. Just your average day in the life at The Moth. 

The first story is from Jessi Klein. She began telling stories for us in 2003, early in her comedy career. These days, a lot has changed. She was the head writer and executive producer for Inside Amy Schumer, and more recently an executive producer on Dead to Me. 

When we put together an evening of stories with our friends, The Kitchen Sisters, we thought it would be fun to explore a theme they've spent a lot of time with, the hidden world of girls. 

We knew that Jessi Klein had recently gone through a not-so-hidden ritual, getting ready for her wedding. So, we reached out. I've never been wedding shopping with anyone before,- [audience cheers and applause] -and I have to say I had no idea. Here's Jessi Klein, live at The Moth in New York City.

Jessi: [00:01:14] Immediately after I got engaged, every woman I know started asking me, "What are you going to do about a wedding dress? What kind of wedding dress are you going to wear?" And I would always say the same thing, which was, "Oh, I'm not going to wear a wedding dress." As I would watch their heads explode, I would feel this wave of self-satisfaction washing over me. [audience laughter] It was kind of similar to the smug feeling I have when I tell people that I don't personally find Brad Pitt attractive. [audience laughter] I understand why you, but he's just not my thing. [audience chuckles] Equally shocking to humans. 

But the truth is, genuinely, I've never really related to wedding dresses like the Cinderella-ness of them, the poof-ness of them. I've always thought they look kind of cheesy, and I've just never related to that traditional femininity. You know what I mean? Like, even though I am a straight woman, I've never been able to really plug into the kinds of things that straight women are supposed to do, like drink Diet Coke and do ballet and laugh and laugh. [audience laughter] Just be in a good mood or whatever. [audience laughter] 

And also, as a feminist, I've never really liked what I perceive wedding dresses to stand for. It always seems to me these gowns are designed to eliminate your individuality and just level everyone into this universal symbol of femaleness, like you know that faceless woman in the triangle dress on the door of every ladies’ room in America, [audience chuckles] I feel that's what a lot of people look like in wedding dresses, and I didn't want to be in a triangle dress. [audience chuckles] 

So, in reality, my plan was like, I’ll go to a department store and I’ll just spend a little more than I normally would on just a pretty dress, and that's going to be what I do. What I was not expecting was how many of my friends actively wanted to take me wedding dress shopping, really wanted to do it. And not even just my close friends, like acquaintances. Like people I didn't know well, started to feel maybe this is one of those experiences that you're supposed to have just so you can say you had it.

Like, when I dated a guy who had a motorcycle [chuckles]. I just was like, I have to do this. Although the side note to that is I didn't find out until after I slept with him that he had only borrowed the motorcycle. [audience laughter] So, that should probably have been a foreshadowing to how this was going to go. Whatever, I have to do it just to say I did it. And so, I let my friends make an appointment for me at Lovely Bridal. That's what it's called. And it's this bridal boutique in the West Village. It's very girly. Obviously, it's a bridal boutique. They all are. It's twee chandeliers. 

I go with my friends and I'm trying on dresses. I didn't know that there's a very specific way that this goes, which is that someone, a sales lady, has to help you into the dress, because they're very complicated and big. And so, what that means is that there's a stranger in a dressing room with me, seeing me naked except for a strapless bra and heels, which they make you bring. And for me, those things are paired with the most raggedy pair of Gap underwear, [audience chuckles] because I like to wear my underwear until it's ratty, an old pirate flag. [audience laughter] So, it's not a good look and you have to check your dignity at the door.

And then, once you're in a dress, and it's always either super too big or super too small, they use an industrial clip, like clip it to you, and then you shuffle out into the room and you stand on a pedestal [audience chuckles] and your friends look at you. Me and my friends would engage in a verbal tennis match that was the same for every dress. But towards the end of my hour-long appointment, I do try on this one dress that feels a little different. It's this cool art deco column of a dress, sparkly beads or whatever. It's a little rock and roll. It looks like something Kate Moss would do a ton of coke [chuckles] in and then pass out on a bed at the Ritz. [audience laughter] 

I'm looking in the mirror and I'm, “I have to really think, do I want to look like a coked-up Kate Moss on my wedding day?” And a very large part of me was like, “Yeah, [audience laughter] probably.” Anyway, I didn't buy that dress, but I did feel something stirring for the first time, which was for the first time I was like, “Maybe there is value in wearing a wedding dress the day I get married. Maybe there is some deeper meaning to just yielding to this hyper feminine version of myself for just literally a day, just so I can check the box and move on with my life.” So, anyway, I decided like, “Okay, I'm going to do that.”

And the women at Lovely Bridal remind me that I have to buy the dress or whatever dress I get, I have to get six months in advance of my wedding day, because it has to be made, it has to be altered, blah, blah, blah. I'm like, “I got this. It's no big deal. It's March, my wedding is in November, I have plenty of time, I'm fine.” I also decide I'm not going to bring my girlfriends to go shopping with me anymore, because I am not a baby. I am a feminist [chuckles] grown up. 

And so, a few weeks later, I go to this other bridal boutique and I try in a bunch of stuff. It's not that great. And then, towards the end, I see a dress in the back of the store, stuffed in the corner. It's this vintage off white dress, and it's multi-tiered on the bottom, kind of looks like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree of dresses. [audience chuckles] And that appeals to me. So, I put it on. I guess the best way to describe it, is that it looks like something a saloon owner from the old west would wear. [audience laughter] I'm like, “I kind of love this.” 

I'm looking in the mirror, and I don't know, it's whimsical and bohemian. It feels like me, but it is a wedding dress. And I'm like, “I think I'm done here.” I take a picture of myself in the dress. And just to make sure I'm not crazy. I text the photo to my friend Jenny and I just wait for her permission to get the dress and be done. But I don't get that. What I get instead is like, I've texted her the photo and then she texts back. But I get those three dots that you see on an iPhone when someone's texting you back, and they're stopping, and starting a lot [audience laughter] in that way [chuckles] that three dots stop and start on an iPhone when someone has something deeply unpleasant to tell you and is really struggling. [audience laughter] 

When her text finally comes through, her text is, "Interesting dress. Happy to keep shopping with you." [audience laughter] And I was like, “Oh, all right. Well, obviously Jenny doesn't like the dress, but whatever, it's one person.” So, I text the photo to all my friends, and I just get back a wave of three dots. [audience chuckles] Everyone's three dotting it, and all the three dots are followed by very tepid comments. 

It's weird. I don't understand why people aren't more enthusiastic about the dress, but everyone's being polite and no one's being straightforward, and I'm like, “All right, well, still no big deal.” Like, “Whatever, here's what I'll do. I'll shop for two more weeks. I'll see if I can beat it. And if I can't, I'm just going to buy the Charlie Brown dress. I don't care that much about this. I can't invest that much time. I'm a very busy feminist.” [audience laughter]

But then my next stop is at Saks. Something bad happens at Saks, where I go and my saleswoman is a slightly older woman. I think her name is Barbara. She's from New Jersey. She reminds me of my Jewish aunt. She's very sweet. I feel like 10 minutes into my appointment, we're kind of best buds. She likes me and I like her. I'm trying stuff on, and again, I never feel comfortable. And finally, I'm like, “You know, I tried on this other dress at this other shop, and I'd like something that's like this. And I have a photo.” She's like, "Oh, honey, show me the photo." I show her the photo and her whole demeanor [chuckles] changes. [audience chuckles] She scowls and she literally says, she goes, "You look pregnant in this dress. This is a maternity dress." [audience laughter] 

And I was like, “What?” This is the moment that my wedding dress search stopped being about a dress and became an existential crisis of faith in myself where I was like, “Why can't I do this? What is wrong with me as a woman that I can't look feminine for literally not even a whole day?” It's really five hours of my whole life, and I feel like a failure as a woman. I really start to think like, maybe I'm also-- Like, “Is this the first time I fail my fiancé Mike? Am I going to be a failure as a wife?”

Quick side note about Mike. He'd been putting off buying a suit, right? He was not getting it together, and I'm finally like, “Babe, this process takes way longer than you think it will. [audience chuckles] You need to get on this.” And he's like “All right.” [audience laughter] And so, one Saturday, he's like, Let's go.” We go to one store, and he tries one suit, [audience chuckles] and it looks awesome on him, and he buys it. [audience laughter] And he doesn't cry, and no one told him he looked pregnant. [audience laughter] 

I really love my husband a lot, but that day, I was like, “I hate you.” [audience chuckles] Because for me, the search is just continuing and continuing, and looking for a wedding dress starts to become literally another whole job. And the whole time, though, I'm thinking about the Charlie Brown dress. It's haunting me like an old lover. And finally, it's Memorial Day weekend. I see the Charlie Brown dress is online. It's on sale just for this weekend. I call my friend Zubaydah, and she comes to my house, and I basically, I beg for her permission to buy the dress to put me out of my misery, so I can be done. I'm like Old Yeller and I'm like, “Put me down. I'm done.” [audience chuckles] 

And she's like, "Let's look at the photo of you again." We look at the photo, and she's like, "You know what? You look super pretty. Just buy the dress." And I'm like, "Are you sure?" She's like, "Yes, I'm sure." I go, "Are you sure?" She's like, "I'm so sure." I have my finger on the mouse of my computer. I'm about to click purchase, and she's like, "Wait." [audience chuckles] And she goes, "I feel the tiers of the dress hit you at a weird angle." I look at her face and there's desperation in her eyes. I will just say this about her. 

She is my oldest friend. We've known each other since we were 11. We went to junior high school together. She knew me when I wore a night brace. I knew her when she wore suspenders every day. [audience chuckles] I know she loves me and would not tell me something if it wasn't true. And this is how I find myself the next day, trudging in 98-degree heat to the snootiest department store in New York City, Bergdorf Goodman. I have to tell you, I know for a fact that at this point, I had tried on over one hundred wedding dresses. I know this, because I kept count. Literally, I think 101. 

I'm going to Bergdorf Goodman. I'm a little intimidated, because it's a very snooty store. I've never been there, and I'm like, “Is this one of those places that doesn't let Jews in?” [audience laughter] But they do. There were tons there. I was not the only one. [audience laughter] I was crawling with them. But anyway, I'm walking through Bergdorf Goodman. I'm in a haze. I look like Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men, [audience laughter] just taking it all in through my dead eyes. [audience laughter] And then, I see, at the end of this hall, clouds part, I see the dress. I see this little white, beaded, A-line cocktail Audrey Hepburn dress. It's a Valentino dress. It's the dress of my dreams. It's simple and perfect. 

I run towards it, I grab it, my size, I run into the dressing room, I put it on. Perfect. I love it. I don't exactly look like Audrey Hepburn. I look like Audrey Hepburn if she just escaped from a fire. [audience laughter] But I'm like, “Good enough. I can work with this. That's a look. I'm doing it. I'm done. I'm done. I did it. I did it. I'm a woman. I bought a wedding dress.” I just quickly look at the price tag, and it costs $10,000. [audience laughter] I suddenly hear this very high-pitched foreign voice go, "Just do it." [audience laughter] I look around and I'm like, “Who's that?” It was me. That was my own voice in my head. [audience laughter] 

I start to engage in this insane inner monologue with myself where I'm just like, “Okay, here's the plan. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to put this on your credit card, and you're never going to tell a living soul how much it costs or where you got it. You will lie to everyone, including your own husband, about the origin of the dress. And that's totally cool. It's fine. You'll just lie. You'll be a liar, and you'll just have this dress.” [audience chuckles] 

And after a minute or two of this, I realized this is the kind of narcissistic reasoning that married men recite to themselves when they're buying an escort on their Amex, [audience chuckles] where just any reason is justification like, “My wife makes me do laundry, so I had to do this. She trapped me.” [audience laughter] I realized I don't want to think about this like that. I put the dress back on the rack, and I go home, and I call my friend Becky, and I start to sob.

I'm crying. I'm crying, because I've lost my way. I'm like, “I've lost my bearings. I've become somebody I don't recognize. I've become the worst cliché, the cliché I feared at the very beginning of this.” Becky calms me down, and she's like, "This happens to everyone. It's okay. And just be gentle with yourself. Whatever you feel good in, just buy it. And that's how people will see you. So, get the Charlie Brown dress if that's what you feel pretty in." And somehow, she got through. Aye.

She gets through, and I hang up with her, and I pick up the phone, and I call the Charlie Brown dress store, and I order the dress, and then I have the biggest glass of wine, because I just threw this hundred-pound weight off of my chest. I literally feel like Chief at the end of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest [audience chuckles] when he takes the concrete sink and lugs it through the window and then just runs. And I was like, “That's how free I felt.” 

So, at the end of my wedding night, I'm so happy, I'm so drunk, I'm in my Charlie Brown dress. I've had the best time. I actually bought a $25 cheapo dress to dance in, and I change into it, and I take the Charlie Brown dress, and I throw it on the ground. I don't even think about it. It's like, whatever. I don't think about it till the next day when I see that my wedding planner has very carefully put it back in the garment bag that I brought it in and zipped it up. 

And that bag is now at the back of my closet in my house. I've only peeked at it once. My husband Mike says I should get it professionally cleaned, because it's very dirty. [chuckles] The hem is black, and there's a lot of wine all over it. [audience laughter] But I don't think I'm going to get it cleaned, because it actually means more to me in this disheveled, wriggled-off state. It is like that translucent, wrinkled skin that a snake sheds off once it's been outgrown. Thank you, guys, so much.

[cheers and applause] 

Jenifer: [00:16:51] That was Jessi Klein, Emmy and Peabody award-winning writer and comic.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. You want to see the dress? I did, too. It turns out a wedding website featured Jessi's wedding. They called it a chic fall Brooklyn winery wedding. You can get the link on our radio extras page. But in case you're driving your car right now, keep your eyes on the road. I'm just going to tell you, she looks absolutely beautiful and you can check it out when you get home at themoth.org. 

When we return, two stories. One about a man who travels to Malawi and hears voices that change him forever, and another about the haunting memory of a Guatemalan hot dog stand.

[uplifting music]

Jay: [00:18:14] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.

Jenifer: [00:18:26] This is The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jenifer Hixson. This next story is from Al Letson. 

When most people travel, they spend time in places of great beauty, visit historic landmarks, natural wonders. When Al traveled, he found something sacred where most people would never think to look or listen. 

[cheers and applause] 

Here's Al Letson, live in St. Louis, Missouri.

Al: [00:18:55] So, I get an email one day with this amazing opportunity. See, this organization is looking for a playwright. They are taking this playwright to Malawi, which at the time I didn't even know where Malawi was. But I did a quick Google search and it turns out that Malawi is a small country in Africa, kind of on the east side, but not on the coast. And in this email, they were looking for a playwright with these specific qualities. I felt like I was playing perfectly fit for this one. 

First of all, they were looking for a playwright who had some journalistic chops. And I thought, check. Secondly, a lot of the people in this play were going to be people of faith. And so, I thought, “Hey, my dad is a Baptist preacher.” I grew up in the church and I still go to church every now and then. [audience chuckles] I mean, I'm a little church-ish, you know? Check. Three, it was going to Africa. I'm Black. Check. [audience laughter] So, I'm thinking, "This is perfect for me." 

So, I fill out the information, I send it in, I send some samples and all that stuff. And literally, six weeks later, I am on a plane to Malawi. Now, when I get to the airport, it's the first time that I meet the collaborators. There's Bob Shop, who is the creator and has his big idea about this story, and director Pam Berlin. And so, we're going to Malawi to tell the story of Malawi's transition from dictator to democracy.

Now, getting on the plane with these two people that I didn't really know, I was a little bit worried. I travel a lot, and sometimes you get bad travel partners, and that's not good, but Bob and Pam were amazing. I fell in love with them. We just became family. And the whole ride over there, I'm thinking to myself, "All right, so, I'm not going to buy into that whole narrative of a Black man coming home to Africa.” It's just so corny and played out. 

Listen, I have every single Erykah Badu album ever recorded. [audience laughter] I love all of that stuff. But I just thought, “I'm just not going to buy into that. I'm going to treat the Malawians the same way I treat people when I go to London or Barcelona. They're just people and high different culture. It's going to be good." I'm glad that I thought that way, because when we got to Malawi, the Malawians treated me just like the white people I was with. No big deal. I don't know. Deep down inside, secretly, I was expecting a "Welcome home brother" parade, but [audience laughter] that didn't happen. But look, it was fine. 

So, we're there, and we're researching, and we're learning about Malawi, and we're learning about this dictator. And this dictator did what dictators do, bad things. He killed people. He locked people up in prison for no reason. And as the writer, I told everybody, "I really need to see what a Malawian prison looks like. Because I've seen American prisons, but I don't know what a Malawian one looks like." And so, I want to wrap my head around that.

And so, we went to this prison called the Makuyu Prison. And the Makuyu Prison was the worst of all the prisons during the reign of Kamuzu Banda. And so, we get into the prison and we're in this little vestibule-type room, and it's really dark. While we're in there, we're talking to the warden and to the guards, and they're like, "You cannot take any pictures." But I'm a radio guy, right? So, I've got my audio equipment. And they say that, “It's fine. You can take your audio equipment." I'm really excited, because I am here to document all this, and I've got my radio equipment, and I am prepared. Because before I went on this trip in America, I'd been doing some reporting, and I'd gone into a prison, and I had learned how to do the prison thing as a reporter.

And it's really simple. You just go into the prison, you puff your chest up, and you do this, "Don't fuck with me. Tell me your story. [audience laughter] Don't fuck with me. Tell me your story. Don't fuck with me. Tell me your story." So, I am in that vestibule, and I'm just getting ready. Just getting ready, and then they open the doors up, and it leads to the yard. And the light just pours in. It is so bright that I can't see anything, except these figures begin to walk towards the door. I can see them, and it's just these black shadows. After a couple minutes, my eyes begin to adjust. I look out, and they were all Black boys between the ages of maybe 14 and 20. And it just broke my heart.

And I thought, "What is it that it is a crime in this world to be a young Black boy?" I mentor some kids back home in Jacksonville, Florida, and I'm looking at these boys and I'm seeing their face. I'm looking at them, and I'm seeing my children's face, and my heart is just ruined. But I think to myself, "You've got a job to do. Go out there and do it." So, I take a deep breath, I grab my microphone, and I walk into that prison. And once we get inside, there's a deacon with the church who works with the boys there, and he says that the boys have this choir. They never get a chance to sing for anybody, and would we mind if they sung for us. And I thought, "Oh, yes. I mean, I got my recording. Yes, let's do it."

[00:25:02] And so, we walk around the corner into this other room. Now, this prison doesn't look like any American prison. The floors are a red clay material, as are the walls. The area that we're in has a corrugated steel roof, but you can still see puddles of water on the floor. There's a little bit of human feces in the corners. The boys are dressed in dirty white tank tops and shorts. Some have flip flops; some don't have any shoes on, and they line up. There's about 25 to 30 boys in front of me. And the boy facing me opens his mouth and begins to sing. It is the clearest note, and it hits me. And then, suddenly, all the boys behind him join in.

Now, the whole time that we've been in Malawi, all the singing that we've heard has been call and response. And that's exactly what this is. The boy sings at the beginning, and then everybody joins in. And as they sung, the song hit me like a wall of sound. I could feel it hitting my nose, going through my face and coming out through the back, and it just surrounded me. And on that first song, I was being very much a reporter, just holding my microphone and trying to take it all in. But by the time the second song came around, I found myself rocking with the boys. And in the third song, I was in the middle of all the boys. I'm dancing, [audience chuckles] I'm singing words. I don't even know what the hell I'm saying. [audience laughter]

I'm rocking with it, and my hands go down. In the midst of that, I can feel my heart coming back together. So, I'm dancing and I'm looking at these boys and feeling the connection, that connection that I didn't think I'd ever have in Africa. It is happening right there with these boys right now, that these are like my children, that we are one. And in that, I'm feeling my heart come back together. So, I go to move my hands to my chest. Ad as I go to move, I feel resistance. The first thing that came to my mind was, am I underwater? Because that's what it felt like, the way you move underwater. Like, there's resistance there. Of course, I'm not underwater, but it felt like it.

And then, all that Southern Baptist preaching that my father had given me over the years hit me like a ton of bricks, and I thought, "I am in the presence of God." I just wanted to fall on my knees, because I didn't feel worthy of it. But I'm working and I'm with these boys, and I can't fall on my knees. So, I just stayed there, and let that feeling envelop me, just like the song. I started to get these feelings. I think it is so arrogant for me to say that I heard the voice of God. But you know how you have an emotion and you pair that with a word, so you feel good inside and that's happiness. You feel upset and that's sad. 

Well, I felt these feelings and they became words, and it was just, "It is well. That even in this shitty little jail, it is well." And I got this. The boys finished singing, and I held on to that feeling in my heart. Afterwards, the boys came up and I talked to them. I tried to give them words of encouragement. We got in the Land Rover, and headed back to the hotel. While we were driving, Bob, Pam, and the driver, they all wanted to talk about this thing. They were being very intellectual about what had just happened. I couldn't do it. I could not deal with that. So, I just put my headphones on.

As we were driving, it just hit me full speed. I could just feel myself getting bigger and bigger with all these emotions. I felt like I was about to pop. I don't know what Pam saw, but she grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and the tears just flowed out of my eyes. I must have cried the entire ride. It was about 40 minutes. We got back to the hotel, and I had one last interview to do. This was the big one coming up. And so, I collected myself. I knew that I had to empty my recorder, because I'd just done a lot of recording in the jail. Now, when I walked in the jail, I had 10 files on the recorder. When I walked out of the jail, I had 14 files on the recorder. When I went to my room to download all the sound, I had 10 files on the recorder. The 10th file was corrupted, and it messed everything up after that. 

I felt like a complete failure. Because I came all the way to Malawi to document this, and I failed. So, I had to go downstairs, and talk to Bob and Pam. I told them that I didn't have it. And I cried. Pam grabbed my hand, and she said, "It's okay. It's all right. We were never supposed to have that audio. Because if we did, we would just be looking for the moment when God appeared, and we would never find it. It would never be there. It's got to live in our hearts, in our minds. We have to hold onto it there." 

I finished up the next interview, and a day or two later, I hopped on a plane and I went home. It took a while. But a year later, I finished that play. And Pam was right. I didn't need a recording. I hold that memory in my heart and go back to it all the time when I need it. When I was in Malawi, I thought that when I came back to America, I was going to go to church, that I was going to be the kid that my dad always wanted me to be [chuckles], that hell, maybe I'd be a preacher. I don't know. I felt like I was going to change. When I got back to America, I drove by a church and I couldn't even look at it. I couldn't comprehend it and I can't talk to anybody in my family about it. They just won't understand. But I haven't been to church since, because I feel like my entire life growing up, I had been handed this glass of water. When I was in Malawi, I swam in the ocean. And no glass will ever be good enough again. Thank you.

[cheers and applause]

Jenifer: [00:32:50] That was Al Letson. He's a writer, poet, and a playwright. He's also host of the public radio program Reveal and the podcast Errthang. I hope I'm saying that right, Al. It sounds so cool when you say it. Errthang. [chuckles]. 

As you heard, we don't have a recording of the boys from the Makuyu Prison, but here's a bit of the traditional call and response a cappella singing you can hear in Malawi. Al recorded these women at a little church outside of Zamba, about a week before his recorder conked out. 

[Malawi song] 

Our next story takes place in Guatemala, but was told at one of our open mic StorySLAMs in Houston, Texas. The theme that night was Scarce. And Marco Huertas, who came to the United States as a Fulbright Scholar, chose to talk about the kind of scar you feel but can't see. Here's Marco, live in Houston, Texas.

[cheers and applause] 

Marco: [00:34:06] So, I was perhaps 16 years old, living in Guatemala. That's where I grew up. I was raised in a lower middle-class family. My dad was an accountant, my mom stayed at home. But she always found ways of making money cooking, or sewing, or doing something like that. So, they always provided for us. But we didn't have extra money for things that we wanted to buy, like allowance or something like that. So, they encouraged us to find ways of getting money. You can wash a car, get at the grocery store, or something like that. So, the way I did it is, I was very good in math, and so I became a tutor for kids. So, I helped them with their algebra and stuff like that. And that's how I made money. But of course, the money that I made was just for me. I didn't have to really use that money to help support my family or anything like that. 

So, around that time, a lot of the gas stations, very close to where I was living in Guatemala, were changing. They started selling more American food. They had nachos with cheese, and they had these sodas and chips and all that stuff. And as a teenager in a third world country, you say, "Oh, American food, I have to try that." And of course, I had some money to do it. So, one day, I saw that there was this gas station where they were selling these huge hot dogs, which I really liked. And so, I said, "Okay, I'm going to go and buy one." 

So, I went and I didn't get one, of course, right? I got two. And they were huge. Big bun, sausage, chili, the works, everything in there. So, I came out of the store with one hot dog in one hand, the other one, I started eating. As I was walking on the street away from the gas station, I saw this man coming towards me. He was walking with a kid. He was perhaps, I don't know, 10, 11 years old. As they approached and they went past by me, the kid looked at me. And of course, he looked at the hot dogs. And of course, from the way they were dressed, I quickly picked up that they were a poverty-stricken family. They were poor. Most likely the kid was working with his dad, so he might be his assistant or something like that.

So, the kid looked at me and said, "Wow, these are great. Where did you get them?" And I said, "Oh, you can get them at the gas station." So, he looked at his dad and like, "Can we get one?" I turned and looked at the dad and the dad had this face, "We cannot afford something like that." So, at that point, I can assure you that I heard a voice in my head, something like, "Come on, man, you have two, right? You just need one. You don't need two, one is enough. Give one to the kid." Well, I didn't do it. [audience chuckles] I just turned around and kept walking.

But I can tell you that really, there's something broke inside me, because that second hot dog didn't taste as good as the first one. I remember very clearly that I walked that street for maybe the next couple of days, up and down at about the same time, just hoping to find the kid again, just making sure that I had another chance to do something that I knew I didn't do. But of course, it didn't happen. I realized that this was one of those random opportunities that life gives you to assert yourself as a decent human being. I clearly missed that opportunity that day, and it has haunted me the rest of my life. Thank you.

[cheers and applause]

Jenifer: [00:38:14] That was Marco Huertas. He's a PhD in physics. Marco came to The Moth StorySLAM, because he wanted to challenge himself to do something difficult, speak in public, a very common fear. He wrote me, “When I looked at theme scars, the story I told came easily. I don't know how long I had suppressed this memory, but it came back to me. I was riding my bike back from work, thinking about this event, and I cried almost all the way. I thought, ‘This is really something that has marked me.’ I'm glad I didn't cry on stage, but I was trembling.” 

These days, Marco Huertas is a research scientist studying computational neuroscience at the University of Texas Health Center. In his spare time, he volunteers at three different nonprofits. He told me, “Clearly, I'm trying to not let that boy go by again without doing something." 

In a moment, a dancer who grew up in a small town where everyone knew her moves to the biggest city.

[soft melodious music]

Jay: [00:39:46] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.

Jenifer: [00:39:58] You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jenifer Hixson. 

Our final story is from Mary Archbold. She performed this story as part of a Moth community showcase. Here's Mary Archbold, live at The Moth in New York City.

[cheers and applause] 

Mary: [00:40:14] So, when I auditioned for the dance program at the University of Michigan, I quickly realized that one of these things is not like the other. All the girls there were perfect. Long, lean hair in a perfect bun, no flyaways. And there I was in a brightly colored leotard, tan tights, and a ponytail with my curly frays going everywhere. And then, they all did their audition pieces, which were meaningful pieces of modern dance. [audience laughter] And then, I did my audition piece, which was a jazz routine to Huey Lewis and the News, Hip to Be Square. [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause]

When I finished my piece, the director of the program looked at me and said, "Wow, we've never had one like you before." [audience laughter] And I quickly realized, “Wow, he's talking about my arm.” You see, I am an amputee. I'm a congenital amputee, so it's always been this way. I have worn a prosthetic since I was about three months old, except for a short stint in high school when I had an injury. I lived in this bubble that everyone knew about it and didn't seem to judge me for it. I was just Mary to them. And to have someone point this out to me so blatantly, I realized that's how the world sees me, not as normal, as something different. And it freaked me out. [chuckles] 

So, that summer I told my mother I wanted to go back to wearing prosthetics before I started to go to school with 20,000 of my new friends. And she agreed. And $20,000 later, I had a lovely arm that I went to school with. And then, I started college determined to appear normal and no one would know. There was a problem right off the bat. I had roommates, and you live with them. [audience chuckles] You might not know, but you cannot wear a prosthetic 24 hours a day. It's terrible for your skin. Your skin will actually break down and bleed. 

So, my way of hiding it was at the end of the night I would get into bed, pull my covers up really tight, and take off my arm underneath the covers. And the first thing I did in the morning was put it back on, and then get out of bed gracefully, I'm sure. [audience chuckles] And I succeeded. I appeared normal. And then, eventually, I was getting married and I was looking for the most important part of your wedding, the dress. And I found the dress. And I knew it was the dress, because my mother started to cry when she saw me in it. [audience chuckles] 

And there was only one problem with the dress. It was strapless. And that meant that my arm would be showing, and on my wedding day, I wouldn't appear normal. And so, my mother had these wonderful long gloves made, and they covered my arm beautifully. But somehow on the morning of my wedding, I decided, I'm not going to wear them. I'm just going to go as me. And there I stood at the back of the church about to go to my wedding, and I pulled my veil over my arm, and then I moved to New York, and I'm a professional actor. chuckles] Yeah.

And so, I'm performing and I'm working with a wonderful company that's called an integrated company, where they have able-bodied and disabled actors performing together. And everything was going great. I did a wonderful new piece by Neil LaBute and the New York Times came to review it, and they said it was wonderful. They pointed me out and they said it was only unfortunate that it was performed by an able-bodied actress. This was my coup de grace. [audience laughter] The New York Times said I was able-bodied. [audience laughter] So, it doesn't get better. I have arrived. And then, just at that moment, I got the biggest challenge to appearing normal. I became a mother. Yeah.

So, luckily when you're pregnant, which is 10 months, not 9, just for clarification’s sake, [audience chuckles] you have a long time to think about how you want to deal with your prosthesis and your children. Because you worry not just about yourself, about what will they face, how will they explain it, what will they think of it? Will they see me not as normal? I decided, before I had my son, I wasn't going to let him see me not normal. So, I was going to take care of my son with my prosthesis on. 

So, when he came home, I was working with my arm and taking care of an infant. And I realized as I'm feeding him, his head is resting on my prosthesis, which is metal. And I realize I'm changing his diaper and a squirming baby is moving, so I place my arm across his chest to try to hold him down and I'm resting two and a half pounds on a five-pound 10-ounce baby to keep him in place. And I'm thinking, “Well, I will appear normal. So, it's fine, it’s fine.” And then, I got my biggest challenge yet. I had to bathe him. 

Prosthesis, just so you know, can't get wet ever. Bad, metal water, not good. So, after about 10 days of my son being home, my mother said to me, you must bathe your child. He's filthy. [audience laughter] So, I set it all up. Got in the sink, got the little leaning board for him to be on, the towel, the soap, the washcloth, the secondary towel in case there's spillage. I'm all set up, and I realize I am freaking out. I do not know how I'm going to do this.

So, as I turn on the water and place my son into the sink, this is a new experience for him and me. And I am trying desperately to do this all with one arm. So, I take my prosthesis behind my back, and I start trying to wash him, and put the soap on the washcloth, and rub him down. He is starting to slide down this, deeper into the sink, and I feel like I can't pick him back up because my hand's now slippery. I'm trying to lift him up, and he starts crying. And the one person he looks to for trust, the one whose heartbeat he heard for 10 months, is crying too. I was freaking out. I didn't know how to take care of my son, because my arm was in the way.

So, I took off my arm, threw it on the ground, and took care of my son. And in that moment, I was me with him. [cries] And it was one of the most beautiful connections I've ever dreamed of being a mother. And things since then have been great. He's three. And for the most part, I don't wear my arm in front of my son, so much so that if I put it on, he asks me, "Are we going out?" [audience laughter] 

And now, I know as he goes into the world there will be questions and there will be times that he will have questions. I know he'll look at other mothers and see things that I can't do. I can't play patty cake, I can't hold him with my fingers and lift him up into the air. And I know someday, he'll look at those mothers that can do that and say, "Wow, I've never seen one like that before." Thank you.

[cheers and applause] 

Jenifer: [00:48:34] That was Mary Archbold. She's an actress, dancer, wife, and mother of two. To see a picture of Mary with her husband and kids, go to themoth.org. 

[upbeat music] 

We'll also link to her website where you can watch her short film Jazz Hand. I asked Mary about that New York Times article, “Did she ever write to correct them?” She answered very simply, “No way.”

If any of the stories today are conjuring up your story, please pitch us at 877-799-MOTH, or online at themoth.org. We love hearing from you. We listen to every single pitch, and you just might get a follow up call, work with a Moth director, and end up here. 

That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time.

[Uncanny Valley theme music by The Drift]

Jay: [00:49:37] Your host this hour was Jenifer Hixson. Jenifer also directed the stories in the show along with Larry Rosen. 

The rest of The Moth's directorial staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Jenness, and Meg Bowles. Production support from Whitney Jones. 

Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Moth events are recorded by Argot Studios in New York City, supervised by Paul Ruest. Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour from The Transatlantics and Carla Kihlstedt, and Dan Rathbun. 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 Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, committed to building a more just, verdant, and peaceful world. The Moth Radio Hour is presented by the Public Radio Exchange, prx.org. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.