Driven: The Moth Radio Hour

This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host, Jennifer Hickson.

“Have you ever heard the advice that if you want to have an important conversation?”

Have it in the car? There's no place to go at 55 miles an hour, so it's a pretty strong strategy for getting your talking points heard, and the car is an intimate space. The content of the conversation will hit targeted ears only. It was completely unplanned, but during one car ride,

I explained the very basic elements of how babies are made to my children. My son was silent for a moment and then asked, "But how do they talk the men into doing?"

“I had to add a couple extra miles onto that trip.”

In this hour stories of the driven, both literally and figuratively.

In this first story, both a beloved car and very fierce determination.

Juliet Holmes' story begins in the 1940s when she was still a little girl. Juliet told me, growing up in the segregated south, many places that were called public were actually restricted for black people. It wasn't unusual for her family to observe the world from the safety of their car. At the Williamsburg Hall of Music in Brooklyn, where WNYC is a media partner of the month,

here's Juliet Holmes. Well, I guess you all can tell that I had two men walk me on the stage.

In other words, ladies, you are never too old to have two men.

Not one, but two.

“And I'm going to tell my age tonight so that you all could say, "Huh?”

I still have it going on at 84." I'm not going to talk trash tonight. I'm going to get to the business of telling my story. I grew up in Savannah, Georgia, in the low country. And Savannah was like all segregated apothecities in the south and what an experience.

But I really didn't know that I was living in a segregated world. Because my mama and my daddy took such care of me and my sister and the community. We lived in the village. Savannah is a beautiful city with a lot of other islands around the mainland in Savannah, like white bluff, pinpoint, skit away island, so many other islands.

But one of my favorite places to go was to tieby beach. Tieby beach was like 28 miles from the city of Savannah, and on Sunday afternoon after church. My daddy and mama would take us on rides or drives in our green shovely. And my daddy loved that green shovely, and so did we. My sister and I were sitting in the back.

And each one of us would have a window. My mama was sitting in the front and my daddy would drive. And my baby brother many times was sitting in my mama's lap or either crawl in the back and sit between us. And on our drive to tieby, oh, it was wonderful because the Savannah, you could see the grass so even.

And the marshland in the sea life and to smell the ocean to smell the Atlantic ocean.

“And on our drive, we would talk because we couldn't wait to get to tieby island.”

When we would get on the island, my daddy would say to us, now look, look to your left, look, look, look. I'm going to pull over and we knew what that meant. The amusement park, all with the merry-go-round, and the various wheel, and all of the excitement.

And you could hear the children and the people laughing and having said so much fun.

And we weren't the same thing, but we sat in the green shovely, watching and just having fun and laughing. As my daddy would slowly go down the main street, we would look out the window and we saw women walking with their bathing suits and shorts and sunbat dresses and hats. And the men, the same thing walking with their bathing suits and just having so much fun and the little children going in and out of stores and restaurants. And the ice cream parlors.

“And after while someone would hit on the car, where are you going, boy?”

My daddy wouldn't say anything.

Did you bring her down here to work? Or are you working in one of the restaurants? Are you playing in one of the bands? There were silence. And every time we would go through the same thing, my daddy didn't answer. We don't want any trouble down here this day, so I would say to you, turn that car around, boy, and you go back. Go back to Savannah.

Everything would be quiet.

“And as we were leaving, Tybee, my mama would say, one day, one day is going to be different.”

That is God's Atlantic Ocean, and that's God's saying, and we have to abide by someone else's rules. And she would start to hum. God's going to trouble the waters, wait in the water, wait in the water, Lord, wait in the water, God's going to trouble the water. And one day, one day, my girls will be able, my son will be able to go on Tybee Beach, my grandchildren,

and my great grandchildren, and people who look like me, who look like us. Everything would be quiet, and then daddy would turn on the radio to listen to the gospel music. And we would sing in hum, and the closer we got to Savannah, my daddy would say, "We're going to stop and get some ice cream." We would lighten up this mood in the car. As I look back, and after I finish college, I move to New York City. But the movement was on, the civil rights movement.

I would call home to find out what was going on in the movement. And one of those times I called, my daddy said, "I got a telephone call from one of the members of the NAACP."

to the way then down at Tybee Beach.

“I said, "Well, daddy, what are you going to do?" He said, "Well, you think I'm going to do. I'm going to take them."”

Everything now and then I would call back to find out how was the way then going. And he would tell me exactly how it was going on. And many times they would try to go into the swim in the Atlantic Ocean, but the policemen would stop them. And there was a lady who owned a restaurant and a ruling house.

“And she told the members of the NAACP that some of the people could come and change into their swimming outfits.”

To go swim in the waters. And when the powers that they found out about it, they told her, "If you permit, if you let them come and use your house, we will chase you off of the island." So she didn't permit the children to come, but the children started to wear their bathing suits under their clothing. And some of them would wade with their clothing on. And sure enough, Tybee became integrated. If you go a visit, Savannah, and go to Mark Gilbert's Black Museum, you will see a picture of the front of the Green Chevrolet, and a plaque with my dad's name, where he helped integrate Tybee Beach.

Now as a grandmother, first a mama, then a grandmother.

One time that we went down to visit, and my mama was still living. The grandchildren, the great grandchildren, who are my granddaughters, and all of us, the family, was able to go and sit on the scene at Tybee Beach and to wade and swim in the Atlantic Ocean. And that is how it was growing up in Savannah, Georgia. Thank you. [Applause] That was Juliet Holmes. She was resplendent that night, dressed in gold. She got a standing ovation and said this to the audience.

[Applause] I am thrilled and overwhelmed. And this king that I'm caring is the San Cove of Bird that I bought when I was visiting Africa.

And the head is turned, because it says, "Never forget where you came from.

“Never forget. And that's why I'm caring my king tonight."”

[Applause] Juliet told this story in June, and just two months later in August of 2022, a plaque was erected outside of Tybee Beach to commemorate the waitings.

The first official waitin was in 1960, 11 students were arrested on the Whites Only Public Beach.

Undeterred, the protesters kept coming, sometimes driven by Juliet's father and his beloved green Chevrolet.

To see a picture of the plaque at Tybee Beach, and of Juliet's parents, visit them off.org where you can also download the story and share one of your own on our pitchline.

“Do you have a story of being not just a witness to history, but part of history? We'd love to hear a pitch from you.”

You can pitch us by recording it right on our site. The best pitches are developed from offshows all around the world. [Music] In a moment, a very different definition of drive, stories of determination that don't take no for an answer sort of drive.

That's when the Moth radio hour continues.

[Music]

“The Moth radio hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.”

[Music] This is the Moth radio hour I'm Jennifer Hickson. Driven is the theme this hour, and in the case of these next two stories, the odometer is internal only pushing forward. Tracy Quazier was on a mission. Here she is at the Seattle Grand Slam, which was supported by Public Radio Station KUOW. Here's Tracy. I was a little nerdy child. I did not engage in a lot of spontaneity. I might have just been born this way. I also moved around a lot, so by fourth grade I'd already been in five schools.

And I found a lot of comfort in both the band hall where I played flute and piccolo and also in the library. I decided at age 10 that I needed to pick a career path. This is what you do when you don't actually have playmates. You think of into the future of happier days. And I decided that I loved Barbara Walters, and that she would need to be replaced. God bless that woman man. She didn't make title a cup of years ago, but in 1974 I was 10. I did the math.

And I figured out that when I was 30 she'd be 65 and ready to retire. So I had it mapped out. Then I got to high school and you know how fun that is. And I sort of thought, I don't think I'm the person that can actually stand in front of a microphone. I just don't think that's my thing. And so I was also loving Mary Tyler Moore, Lou Grant, and Ted Baxter. And I thought that's it. I am going to be a newscast writer. And this is going to be my thing.

“And so I went to college in the fall of 1982. And I decided that the best way to really kick off my newscasting career is I would apply at the radio station at the college head.”

And the one problem was that they just played music on the radio station really all the time from 8 a.m. until midnight. It was just music. Now this was in Dallas, Texas. They did not even do football scores.

There was no news at all. And so finally in January of 1983, and Barbara Walters still on the air. Good Lord.

I decided I needed to take matters into my own hands. And so I called and I left an answering machine message for the station manager. And I gave him a little elevator pitch, which kind of went like this. Listen, I get that your demographic is the young hip college people of today. And I get that you're competing with MTV, which at that point was one year old. This is what I think. Even if you're cool and you're going to like parties or whatever it is that everybody else is doing that I'm not invited to. Even if you're a cool rock and roll person. You kind of need to know if it's raining because you'll want to put your little marijuana cigarettes in a zip lock bag.

Before you go to your fun outdoor concert or so I'm told. Now this actually worked because the station manager called me back. I'm envisioning I'm talking to Lou Grant. And we make an appointment for me to come in the following Wednesday at three. Now it's not that I have a good memory. It's just that Wednesday and three are important things to remember. So I go in and my station manager is not Lou Grant.

And I know I'm a little bit of a nerd, but he's drinking the beer during my interview, which I'm trying to I'm trying to look slightly cool, you know, and then as he's drinking his beer the phone rings and he actually takes the call and it's short.

Yep. Yep. Yep. Okay. Friday. And then he and then he spins so that he's not even looking at me anymore and this is really getting awkward very fast.

And he's packing up his backpack and he puts it over shoulder. He stands up all shagging and ripped jeans and everything and he says, well, that's my dream job. I'm starting and Houston on Friday. And I said like two days from Wednesday Friday and he said, yeah, so I got to go because I got to, you know, find a place to live and stuff. And then he reaches into his shaggy jeans and he throws me the keys and I'm not being, I'm not being figurative here. I mean, he gave me a key ring and he said, this one's to the front door.

Please play the music until midnight and lock up when you're done. And I said, is there a host? 'Cause again, I'm still married to the morning, I'm typing and I'm handing my witty words to Ted Baxter. And he said, no, I was the host and I'm leaving. So don't overthink it, kid. The one rocker switch, you push up and the mic comes on and then you talk.

“And then the red button is if you want to cough and it's three. So yeah, just spin some records for another nine hours.”

And then he, and then he leaps. And so there's an album on the turntable, which some of you may remember, and first of all, I'm a little pissed off because I put a lot of time and effort into this new station proposal that I had put together for shaggy. And now he's not even here to hear it.

Second of all, as a nerdy library and loving band flute playing person, did I know rock and roll, I didn't.

“I didn't. My musical expertise stopped with John Phillips, Susan, who I think died in 1890.”

So then I'm mad because I feel like I have been booby trapped. Well, if you want this little news nugget here, you're going to have to do something that it terrifies me. So so, and then I go from mad to terrify because the other thing he said is, listen, you can't have more than five seconds of silence or you're going to hear from the FCC in the morning. Yeah, no, no pressure. And you know how many rockers, which is there are on a board there a lot. So I look at it and I think, okay, I have two choices, both involving crashing and burning failure.

The first choice is that I just leave because no one knows I'm here.

“I don't work here. I sure, I don't know anything about no rock and roll stuff. And I can leave, but then being a good kind of Lutheran person, I was like, but who would I give the keys to?”

I can't leave a radio station unlocked because then whose fault would that be? Would probably be mine. So then plan B is that I will just suck it up. And I figure that my public humiliation is going to be less than the FCC yelling at me for some kind of five seconds silence. And so I, I'm so scared of the music that I don't even, I wait for the album to go to the end where it makes that, that noise. And and I had a fiscal oppressed releases in a window. And so I looked out and I said, good afternoon and welcome to your campus radio station. We've had a mild January day here in Dallas with temperatures in the 50s.

And and then there were clouds and I'm like, looks like it's going to be a rainy rush hour home. And and then I just did it for nine hours and I put albums on and I got albums and bands mixed up. I kept saying, here's that nice breakfast in America group with their new super tramp album. I probably cut off Bohemian Rhapsody more than once in my career because Sally Ride was going to be the first astronaut, the Dow Jones Industrial average was now holding its head above 1100 first time in history. I mean, music could wait. News was important. Now here's the funny thing. There was no station manager and I had the keys and so nobody fired me. I just kept coming in.

And then about 10 days into this, this girl stops me on campus and she goes, wait a minute, I recognize your voice. Are you the Tracy from the radio and I was like, oh, this is where it starts.

So half the very small campus thought I was being irreverent on purpose. And the other half thought that I needed a little help. And at the end of the day, I connected with people like I never had before. And I actually had fun along the way.

That was Tracy Quavier. Tracy did launch a nerdy financial advice radio show for a hot minute, but eventually landed her dream job as a high school librarian.

Tracy is also the proud mom of twin girls and an avid dragon voter.

“I asked her about her first concert. She said her parents were very strict. They even forbade her to attend a flute concert, but I think she made it out okay because her first official concert was Prince in Austin, Texas.”

Pretty cool, Tracy.

Our next story is by Jennifer Leahy. She told it at the Oberon Theatre in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where we partner with public radio station WBUR and PRS. Here's Jennifer Leahy.

So I arrived to the hospital about 30 minutes before my shift. I'm a resident doctor and the night shift is both exciting and just terrifying. I dropped with my backpack full of snacks, a pager and just a can do attitude. And I sit and listen to the daytime team tell me about all the patients I'm going to take care of for the night.

“And one I remember from the week, and that's Mrs. P. And she is currently dying. She's also DNR DNI, which means that if her heart stops or she stops breathing, I meant to do nothing.”

Which is hard for a type A personality like me who went into medicine to help people to not do anything.

I actually met Ms. P. a couple nights previously. I had been called to her room by her nurse because she was having trouble breathing. I went in. And the first thing I noticed was that she had one of those homemade crochet quilts on her bed. And that's one of my favorite things I see in a patient's room is something from home. It reminds me that they're loved. It's a nice gentle reminder that there's somebody's someone. She felt better after some oxygen and I left her room only to run into some family members. I personally love talking to family members, but it's really hard when you're the nighttime doctor because really I just know enough to just get through the night.

And oftentimes people come in after work, which is really reasonable, and they want to talk to the doctor about what's going on with the person that they love. And all I can say is, "There's still year." I have no idea what happened during the day, but I will get them through the night. I'm most of the time that's true. So my night that night just starts off like it normally does. I have a pager that just is non-stop. And I run around. This is the only job I've had where I could work 18 hours and still wish I had two more.

And as I'm going about all the things that I have to do, my pager goes off and it's the nurse. She believes that Ms. P has died, and she would like me to come evaluate. I looked at my attending, who's so kind and offers to take the pager, and then he asked me if I'm okay with taking care of this. And I say, "Sure, I totally got this." And in my head I'm like, "Oh shit. I've never done this. I've seen it once, and there's a motto in medicine. See one, do one, teach one." And so in my head I think, "I don't know if I can do this, but it's expected of me." And I think, and I'm just going to try.

“But it feels impossible. So I do what any person would do is that I Google. How did it clear someone dead?”

And I think there's a wiki how. And like a good student I take notes. And then go upstairs. When I enter the room I realize that she's actually not alone. She has two family members with her. And at first I'm really excited or glad that she does because that meant she didn't die by herself. And then this just scares me because it means that someone's going to be watching me as I fumble about. And so I approach her. I rubber chest and call out her name and she doesn't answer. If you've seen any TV drama there's normally like this big beeping thing that then flat lines and the doctor takes off the cap throws it down.

I pull out my set of scope which has been with me since med school and has been with me for births but this is our first death together. If you've ever been to a doctor the doctor has probably listened to your heart and lungs for what a total of five seconds. Like, oh you've got them.

“This time I'm trying to listen to see if there's anything. So I listen to all the parts that you're supposed to get hurt on all your visits and I close my eyes and just sit in the silence just thinking who's breath in my hearing.”

And I hold her hand so I can feel for her radial pulse if she has one and my set this goes on her heart just to see if I can hear or feel anything. And all I feel is my own heartbeat that's just beating so fast. And I take a moment to try to collect myself and I realize I haven't heard anything she's not moving. So I look up and look around the room where all of her stuff is. I take a look at the clock and I turn to the nurse and I call time of death. Which I think is just ridiculous because she's died before I even walked into the room but it's me saying the time of death that makes it so. And then I pull up a chair and sit with her loved ones. And I talk about as much as I can about her because remember I don't know her and I tell her about that one time I met her.

At least they know that she just wasn't you know just a name just this random person. They of course call her daughter on the phone and then hand the phone to me. This is someone else I haven't met.

“And so now I'm telling someone over the phone in the middle of their night that their loved one has passed away.”

I stay with them as long as they want me to because people want time with you know the person they love by themselves and I stand up to go and they offer me their gratitude which I begrudgingly accept but I feel like it's not my place to take in this moment. I step outside I go on the stairwell sit down and cry.

There's a lot in my job that's impossible and there's a lot that I'm asked to do that I just say sure and I just find a way to do it.

And with every person I meet it's because of them that I feel like I can do the next impossible thing.

“So I sit there and take a moment and thank Miss P because even in death she took a moment to teach me on how to do something.”

To remind me that I can do that next impossible thing even when I feel like I can't.

And then I stand up go back to the workroom get hand to the Peter and that time that I just stopped just beats back up in a double time.

And I start all over again. Thank you. Jennifer Leahy is a family medicine obstetrical physician just outside of Boston. Being a doctor and mom to a toddler during the pandemic was a huge challenge. But she's grateful to be on the other side of it now.

In a moment a harrowing car chase through Chicago when the Moth radio hour continues. The Moth radio hour is produced by Atlantic public media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. I'm a child in Maldo, and I'm the founder of Yaui, a singer who is a specialist in art and art and has a specialised object. To be able to find out who is the best artist in the world. New episodes drop every Tuesday.

Listen to and follow crimes I've read it available now wherever you get your podcasts.

Our final story is told by Omar Correshi.

“Omar told this for us at the Broad Stage in Santa Monica.”

Here's Omar.

I like hearing my dad tell stories is one of my favorite things and my favorite story that he tells all the time is about when he came to the United States for the first time.

He came to the United States from Pakistan to go to school. He was going to Western Michigan University, but they had no money at all. So really they had to graduate as quickly as possible. This is my dad and my uncle, and so my dad graduated college in two years and my uncle graduated with a master's in two and a half years. And it was in between times at college they would go to Toronto where there are other brothers lived and they'd go like work at a machine shop like late late into the night so that way they'd have enough money for like food and rent when they got back to Western Michigan.

And so one they were scheduled to graduate in the winter but they were back in Toronto and they knew there was no way the family could afford to come all the way to Western Michigan just for a graduation. So they were like, "All right, I don't think we can do this." But as the day of graduation got closer and closer my dad and uncle were like, "All right, you know what? Let's just do it. You and I together. Let's just go to graduation together." And they had no money so they took a 76 gas station credit card which you can just use for like gas and like candy and they got in a beat up old car and the middle of winter they took the drive from Toronto to Western Michigan.

And about 15 minutes into the drive the heater breaks in the car. And it's the dead of winter in one of the coldest places in the world.

And so they just wrap themselves up in like coats and blankets and then just like try to stay warm. And then the window start fogging up. So they occasionally have to look out the side of the window to just see where they're going like they're driving Ace Ventura style on their way. All right. And so once they get to around Detroit like very, very late into the night they're in a pretty bad area and they're going to fill up gas their car breaks down.

“And they have no money and they don't know anybody. And so my uncle nodder says, "Oh boy, we better, I think I got a plan."”

You see that phone booth right over there? I'm going to go and I'm going to go call somebody and we can agree that that's not enough of a plan. You got to have more to it than that. And so he's like, no, no, trust me, what I'm going to go do is I'm going to go look for a Pakistani name and then call. And so he's like looking to the phone book for like the most common Pakistani name he could think of and he looks up the name Khan and he sees a guy named Shakir Khan and he gives him a call. So he dials up Shakir Khan and he's like, "Hey, Shakir Khan, it's neither in Gazan for Karashi from Pakistan."

And our car just broke down into Detroit. Would you come get us? And Shakir Khan was like, "Yeah, not because of her Karashi. I'll come get you, just sit tight." And so this man drives in the middle of a snowstorm into the most dangerous part of Detroit and picks up my dad and my uncle and then he takes him back to his house and he and his wife cooked them an amazing dinner.

“Like it's totally incredible and they're really hitting it off as a night progresses. And Shakir Khan, he says, "You know, I got it met. I don't remember you guys from Pakistan."”

And my dad and uncle admitted that they lied and I said, "Look, the reason why we lied is because we were on our way to our own graduation." And Shakir Khan and his wife were so proud of them for sticking together and for going to graduation together they said, "Hey, we want you to sleep in the master bedroom and we'll sleep in the living room because there's an important celebration for you." And the next morning they woke up and Shakir Khan took them to the gas station, got their car repaired and gave them some money and said, "Look, I only ask for one thing in return."

And that is that when you get home you call me so they know that you're safe. And to this day they have never called that man.

And monsters are you people? I was talking to my dad about this the other day, I'm like, "Oh, dad, don't you feel guilty?" I was like, "Yeah, not so you brought it up right now." I couldn't even, I was like, "What that? I couldn't believe it. And we owe such a debt to this dude." And we don't even know who we know where this guy is and all. And I resolved then that to pay back my debt I was going to make any Pakistani that came to this country feel awesome.

So I'm like, "I'm going to show him the best time." All right, so we're in Shakago and I was taking him to all the sites that took him to Rigglyfield.

I took him to Navy Pier. We put him on a Ferris wheel in the whole time this guy looked map.

“All right, my cousin Hamsa looked infuriated the whole time. And I was like, "What's going on?" Have you ever seen somebody frown on a Ferris wheel?”

It's a weird, I mean it's such a joyful thing. And so he was feeling bad and I just wanted him to have such a good time so badly that I decided, "All right, let's go take him to Shakago style pizza and maybe that'll make him feel better." And so we're standing outside waiting to get our table and Hamsa is still looking kind of nervous and I'm like, "Yo, Hamsa man, what's going on?" And he's like, "I don't know. I guess I'm just scared of gangsters." I'm like, "Dude, you're from Pakistan."

All Kaita is from Pakistan. It's the most gangstership imaginable. What are you talking about? And apparently he'd seen the sopranos. And so there was a car park right in front of us and there was a guy wearing white wash jeans and like an ad-hardy shirt with like a bedazzled lion on it. And Hamsa was like, "Is that guy a gangster?" I was like, "No, Hamsa, that's not a gangster. That is a tool. All right, that guy's not a threat. All right, that guy's a total scrub. Don't worry about him."

And Hamsa was like, "Bummer by, what's a scrub?" And I didn't know exactly. So I was like, "All right, a scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly." And if you don't know what I'm talking about right now, it's, that's your way. (laughter)

I'm referring to the hit TLC song, "No Scrubs." In which they describe a scrub as a guy that absolutely could not date one of them, like just a total loser.

“And so if you know anything about that song, when you start singing it, you're not going to stop, all right?”

And so I'm in it. I'm like, "No, I don't watch a number, and I'm now in front of this guy's car dancing." And no, I don't want to give you my end. He is justifiably upset. He knows what a scrub is. All right, so we go inside and we enjoy our pizza and everything's good. Then we all get out. It's my cousin Hashem, my little brother, Sean, and Hamsa from Pakistan. And we all get back into the car and as we're about to pull out, another car comes and cuts us off.

And out of that car is Ed Hardy guy. And he's pissed. He was like, "Get out of the freaking car!" And I was like, "Yeah, we shouldn't do that at all, this guy." He seems so upset. And he walks up the driver's door and he pulls it open. And my cousin Hashem is buckled in, so he's in an incredibly vulnerable position. So my little brother, Sean, jumps out of the car. And one thing to know about my little brother is that he is a nuclear physicist.

So he's never been in a fight before.

And you could tell, because he hadn't worked shopped any of his insults. As soon as he got out of the car, he was like, "Step back, before I punch you in the penis bro." I was like, "All right, not great." And then the guy was like, "Well, then punch me in the penis then." And I was like, "All right, fellas, let's take it back." He's embarrassing to all parties. And now these guys are yelling at each other, man. And you know what?

“They get a little too emotional, they're yelling at each other, and they're so close to they could kiss. That's how close these guys were.”

And at this point, I'm thinking, man, this guy is like, I mean, they're four of us in just one of him. Meaning, this guy is either crazy, has a gun, or is crazy and has a gun. So I was like, "We got to get out of here." So I pull my brother back and we all get back in the car. And we jump onto the curb and we back out and we drive away. Humza is hyperventilating in the back seat. He's like, "There are gangsters, there are."

I was like, "All right, Humza, I admit that that was not great." But let me just tell you, America is totally safe, don't worry about that. And so we're driving, and I'm just like, "We got to do something for this guy." And I think let's go take him to some ice cream to calm his energy. And so we're driving for like 15 minutes, and then I hear thuds on the side of the car.

And it's at hearty shirt. Throwing quarters at us.

And I've never known like monetarily how much someone had hated me until that moment.

That guy hated me at least five, 25. Could have been more. You might have just run out of change. And he rolled down his window and he yelled, "Pull over. You Indian rats."

(audience laughs) I was like, "Hey, the time or the play is stuck. I don't think he cares." So we're panicked at this point. This guy's crazy. He's following us, throwing change.

“That's what we're like, "All right, we got to just go drive to a police station and park there.”

There's no way he's going to continue to harass us if we're at a police station, obviously." And so we go to a police station and it works like a charm. He drives away. We sit there for 10 minutes and I'm like, "Okay, let's go ahead and get that ice cream." Because I can feel that I'm not doing my duty to Humza here. So I'm like, "All right, let's go ahead and try to make this right."

So we go to ice cream and he has the best time. He absolutely loves it. And so I'm like, "All right, let's go home. It's been a hectic day." And when we're about five minutes from home, I look in my rear view mirror. And it's at Hardy shirt guy again. And he is pissed and he's right behind us and we are weaving in and out of traffic.

Because we don't want to go back towards home because then he's going to know where we live and he's going to hurt us. And so we're weaving in and out of traffic, freaking out. And I decided that I got to call 911. So I call the cops and I'm like, "Hey, there's a guy who's been following us. He three quarters of that. I didn't have to know his crepes on us.

I don't know. Can you please then help?" And they were like, "Sir, please don't prank call us and they hung up." And I realized that, "Okay, the authorities were not going to help me in this particular dispute." So I was like, "I don't know what to do in a situation like that.

Never been in it before." So what I decided to do was have Hashem drive us to Wisconsin.

“Now, I don't know if you know how much of a coward you have to be to leave the state.”

Because so much of the quarters at you. So the answer is this big a coward. And as we sat there and the connocial Wisconsin buffalo wild wings. I have failed my duty to make humza feel at home. And I could not make eye contact with my little brother or my cousin Hashem.

We were so mad at me. And I definitely couldn't make eye contact with Hamza. So I'm just looking down. And Hamza says, "Omer by." That was freaking awesome!

What are we going to do tomorrow? I'm like nothing, dude. There's gangsters down there, man. And I was so happy in that moment that Hamza felt great.

And I know that no matter what I do, I'll never be able to repay the debt that my family owes.

Shekir Khan. But I'm going to keep trying one Pakistani at a time. Thanks. That was Omar Plesh. When we first met Omar at our stories to Lancet Chicago, he was a law student.

I was always astounded that he found the time to come tell stories and be in law school. He's now a lawyer with his own firm and has less time to get out there. But said, he's angling to get back soon. As for Hamza, he still talks about his wild ride with fondness. Shakir Khan.

The man that Omar's father cold called from the White Pages.

“If you are listening to this story, won't you please contact the Moth Office?”

We'd love to put you in touch with Omar's family who finally want to thank you and give you that call back you asked for it.

To see pictures of Omar's dad and uncle around the time of their graduation and pictures of the family out eating in Chicago, visit the Moth.org where you can also download this story. Thank you to all the storytellers in this hour and a special shout out to everyone listening in their cars. That's it for this episode of the Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time.

This episode of the Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Catherine Burns and Jennifer Hickson, who also hosted and directed the stories in the show. Co-producer is Fiky Merrick, Associate Producer Emily Kouch, additional Grandslam coaching by Larry Rosen. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haverman, Sarah Austin, Genes, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cluché, Susan Rust, Brandon Grant, Inguk Ladowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and all the Kaza. Moth stories are true as remembered in the firm by the storytellers.

Our theme music is by the drift. Other music in this hour is from Epidemic Sound. Podcast music production support from Davy Sumner. We received funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media and Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including Executive Producer Leah Rees Dennis.